At one, my phone buzzed with a link to Victoria's morning press appearance. She had held a short news conference outside her real estate office and accused unnamed residents of harassment. She spoke in a dark blue suit, her hair fixed perfectly in place. She said she had been targeted by a vindictive homeowner and a government official using public authority for private purposes.
When a reporter asked about the truck, she called it "a regrettable misunderstanding in an emotionally charged neighborhood dispute." She didn't mention the crowbar until a journalist asked a second time.
"I cannot discuss an active investigation," she replied.
I turned off the video. There was nothing I could accomplish by arguing with a recording.
At one-thirty, the center was full enough that people began taking seats on the adjoining covered terrace, where the audio feed could be heard clearly. By the time we checked the sign-in list, representatives of ninety-one households had arrived in person, and more were following the member livestream. Some households had sent two people. The neutral security attendant stood near the main entrance, helping direct people to the appropriate seating areas.
The crowd was larger than any regular association meeting I had seen. Still, it was only a fraction of Willowbrook's 847 homes. I kept reminding myself of that. We were not about to establish a new government because ninety-one households had finally gotten angry. We were about to begin a process that had to be fair to everyone, including the people who disagreed with us.
I looked for Maria. She was seated toward the side in an ordinary gray sweater, her hands folded around a paper cup of coffee. She gave me a small nod. Nothing dramatic. No secret signal. Just a person telling me she was there.
At two minutes before two, Victoria appeared in the doorway.
She had brought a lawyer, a thick briefcase, and Randy, who stood half a pace behind her. She looked toward the cameras, adjusted her jacket, and smiled as though she were arriving at a ceremony in her honor. Her confidence faltered for a fraction of a second when she saw the packed rows of chairs.
Then she recognized me beside the projection screen.
"You have no authority to conduct association business," she said before she had even reached the front table.
Nadia stepped forward and introduced herself. She handed Victoria's lawyer a copy of the meeting notice, membership request, and bylaws provisions governing the gathering. The lawyer took the papers and began reading them. Victoria did not.
"We are here to review the records, receive member questions, and consider the actions properly listed on the agenda," Nadia said. "If you have a procedural objection, it can be entered into the minutes."
Victoria looked toward the front row. "This is how people destroy communities. They stir up resentment, attack volunteers, and invite the media to humiliate anyone who tries to maintain standards."
Mrs. Chen raised a hand. "Can we start with the money?"
The room murmured. Victoria turned sharply, clearly surprised that the interruption had come from somebody she had fined so often.
"You will have an opportunity to speak when recognized," Victoria said.