"You buried twelve years of my garden under dirt so your husband could build more houses," she said. "You used our neighbors' money to pay his company. Then you sent us a fine for the mess your machines left behind. I don't care what you call it. That wasn't leadership. That was taking things that belonged to other people and believing no one could stop you."
She paused and looked around the room. "And for everybody here who has been afraid to say something because of another violation letter, I want you to know we were afraid, too. Being afraid doesn't make what happened right. It just means we had to find a way to do the right thing anyway."
I watched Gloria reach for the hand of the woman seated beside her. Carol looked down at her notes. Hank removed his glasses and cleaned them with the hem of his shirt, though I doubted the lenses needed attention. Brenda had built much of her authority around making people feel they were alone with the consequences of disagreeing with her. Clare had just reminded them they weren't.
A homeowner in the second row moved that Brenda Whitfield be removed as president under the association's procedures. Nina reminded the room to follow the bylaw process for membership votes, and Carol confirmed the relevant requirements from the documents she had brought. The meeting chair put the question to those eligible to vote, and the raised hands filled the room faster than Brenda could understand what was happening.
The count was one hundred and thirty-six in favor, two against, and five abstentions among those recorded as present and eligible on the sign-in sheet. The motion carried under the meeting's governing rules. Gerald Hunt sat staring at his hands, while Patty Simmons wiped her eyes with a tissue and refused to meet Brenda's gaze. Brenda remained standing beside the white peonies, one hand gripping the edge of her portfolio.
Deputy Patterson stepped forward only when people began pressing toward the front table. He asked everyone to give the former president space and let the meeting conclude without confrontation. A process server accompanied by the deputy then delivered Dale a subpoena in connection with the ongoing investigation. Dale took it, glanced at the heading, and set his eyes on the carpet.
Brenda looked around the room with an expression I could not quite name. She wasn't sorry; at least I saw no sign of regret for the people whose homes were wet or the creek she'd ordered filled. She looked stunned that people she had regarded as an audience had suddenly acted as owners of the association. The board's authority had always depended on those people, and for the first time she seemed to understand the arrangement might operate without her consent.
I put the documents back in my folder. Someone near the back called out, "Tom, anything else you want to say?"