Jill nodded sharply. "Good. The board is united. That hasn't happened in ten years."
"That's what happens when tyranny arrives in orthopedic sandals."
She choked back a laugh. "Stay close when we begin. She's going to make this difficult."
Oh, I knew. Karen didn't breathe without making something difficult.
The residents filed in, some taking seats, others leaning against the walls like spectators at a boxing match. The room smelled faintly of coffee, anxiety, and mild resentment—all standard HOA aromas. Everyone was waiting for the show.
And right on cue, the door slammed open.
Karen swept in like a royal entering a coronation ceremony: navy blazer, fake earpiece, clipboard resting on her forearm like a sacred artifact, and a stack of her Mobility Council packets tucked under the other arm.
The room groaned collectively.
"There will be order!" she announced.
"It hasn't started!" someone muttered.
She ignored them. Instead, she marched to the front and planted herself beside the podium, glaring at the board as though daring them to challenge her.
Jill stepped forward. "Thank you all for coming," Jill began. "Tonight's meeting will address—"
"I'll be handling tonight's meeting," Karen interrupted. "Given the heightened threat level to neighborhood vehicular harmony."
"No," Jill said sharply.
You could feel the room freeze. Karen blinked, taken aback. She wasn't used to that word.
"No?" she repeated.
"That's correct," Jill said firmly. "The board will handle this meeting. You will sit down."
Karen's jaw dropped so far it almost unhinged. "Sit down?"
"Yes," Jill said. "In the audience. Like everyone else."