On the Thursday before mediation, Kent called again. Residents had invoked the HOA's own procedures, and a properly noticed board meeting had voted to replace Darlene as president pending completion of the financial audit. She remained an owner, with whatever rights the governing documents gave her, but no longer controlled the association's agenda. An interim board selected Thomas Patterson, another accountant, to handle the dispute. I had never met him. Kent said he was the kind of man who asked for receipts before approving a check.
That night Lyle came to my porch with the pleased expression of a fellow who has just watched an obnoxious team lose a championship. "She's done," he said. "You've won."
I looked toward the creek. "There's still a hole where my bridge was."
He followed my gaze, and his smile faded. We stood quietly for a while. Then he said, "You want me there tomorrow?"
"More than you know."
Friday evening, the township municipal building filled before the meeting was scheduled to begin. The fire marshal limited admission to the room's legal capacity, so late arrivals watched a video feed in an adjoining hall and online. Reporters lined the back wall, and a table of microphones waited beneath a faded photograph of the town's original council. I sat with Mitch near the front. Across from us were Patterson, two interim board members, the HOA's counsel, and Darlene with an attorney of her own.