I stared at him. For months, I'd felt responsible for every notice, every phone call, every damaged tire. Somewhere along the way, this neighborhood had become a group of people who were willing to help shoulder the load. It wasn't the community I'd expected when I moved in. It was better in one important respect: people had chosen to be involved.
"All right," I said. "Wake me in an hour."
Bernard grinned. "I intend to use a spreadsheet alarm."
I slept for forty-five minutes on Dolores's couch. When I woke, there was a plate of food waiting on the table, and my phone contained a message from Zoe: PLEASE EAT BEFORE THE MEETING. A second message followed, showing Gerald the garden gnome with a tiny paper sign taped beside him: NO TRESPASSING, EVEN IF YOUR MOM'S IMPORTANT.
I laughed for the first time since seeing the open front door. Then I ate lunch, straightened my notes, and got ready for the evening that would change Willowbrook Estates.
At six-thirty Friday evening, the Willowbrook Community Center looked like the scene of a wedding reception where nobody had come to celebrate. Cars lined the lot and overflowed into designated public parking farther down the road. People stood in small groups beneath the entrance lights, holding folders and speaking in low voices. I recognized neighbors from nearly every street. Some had never attended an association meeting before. Others had attended years ago and stopped because Vivian made dissent feel pointless.
Inside, the folding chairs were arranged in rows. A sign near the door explained the building's occupancy limit, and volunteers helped people enter in an orderly way. One voting representative from each attending household signed the membership sheet. Forty-six of the seventy-eight households were represented, comfortably exceeding the quorum required for the matters properly noticed. The remaining residents had been offered the records and could receive the results afterward. It wasn't a mob gathering in a room that couldn't hold it. It was a meeting designed to make the association answer to its members.
The smell of coffee drifted from an old percolator. Bernard was checking the projector cable for the fourth time. Phil sat beside the screen, reviewing his financial charts. Dolores moved among elderly residents, making sure everyone had a chair. Janet stood near the front with copies of the governing provisions and meeting notice. A reporter named Sarah Kim had arrived after hearing about the dispute and Trevor's arrest. She wore a charcoal jacket, carried a notebook, and had arranged permission to observe and report from the portion of the meeting opened to guests.
Sarah approached me before the meeting began. "Mr. Rodriguez? I'm Sarah Kim with the county paper. Could I ask a few questions?"
I glanced at Janet, who nodded slightly. "I can confirm what I personally know. I'm not commenting on evidence that hasn't been released by investigators."
Sarah looked at me with interest. "Most people would be eager to tell me their entire story."
"I have a sixteen-year-old daughter. I'd rather not make this a circus."