"Mommy always said you have to tell the truth even if your voice shakes," Emma said. "Maybe you can do that tonight."
I kissed the top of her head. "I'll try not to shake too much."
Tom's wife offered to stay with her while I attended the meeting. As I left, Emma stood in the doorway with the book tucked against her chest, and I knew the most important person I needed to answer to was not Brenda or any member of the board. It was the child watching me drive away, hoping I would come home with something more solid than another promise.
Thirty-one homeowners walked into the clubhouse that evening. Most annual meetings had fewer than half that number, and the room looked almost strange with every chair occupied and several people standing near the walls. The treasurer had to borrow extra folding chairs from a storage closet. Brenda arrived at seven exactly, saw the crowd, and paused so briefly that anyone who did not know her might have missed it.
Carol Voss and Steve Pike took their usual places beside her. Doug Elmore sat farther down the table, his binder full of the records he had been requesting for weeks. Tom took a seat near the front, and Donna Boyd sat beside him with a manila envelope balanced on her knees. Glenn Crawford and the Walsh family occupied the next row. It was the first time many of those homeowners had attended the same board meeting.
Brenda called the meeting to order in a bright voice that made no mention of the county trucks. She led the group through the minutes, a landscaping contract renewal, and a discussion about holiday lighting as though the room had gathered to decide which shade of white best represented the neighborhood. I watched several people glance toward their photographs and invoices, struggling to remain patient.
When she opened the floor for homeowner comments, I stood. I had brought a portable projector and a folder containing a short statement, public records, the inspection summary, and graphics that showed the drainage paths without burying the room in engineering terminology. I asked to connect the projector and offered to send the material to everyone afterward.
Brenda looked at the projector, then at me. "We have a five-minute limit per homeowner, Nate."
"Then I can begin with the county's findings from this morning. If members want to see more, perhaps the board will allow time after the initial presentation."
Tom stood. "I move that we extend the comment period to hear the drainage report. A lot of us are affected."
There was a second from the back of the room. Brenda tried to rule it out of order, but Doug consulted the association's meeting procedures and said the membership could decide whether to extend the discussion. The homeowners voted overwhelmingly in favor. Brenda's smile narrowed, and I took the extension as permission to begin.