Day eight, Patricia called me herself instead of texting. That was new.
“Daniel,” she said, “something interesting has happened.” Good interesting or complicated interesting?
“Very good interesting,” she said. “Apparently, your letter to the HOA board, specifically the part about Sandra accessing your property with a code she wasn’t given opened a door. Four other homeowners have now contacted the board with complaints about Sandra. Three of them involve her accessing or attempting to access parts of their property without permission. One woman says Sandra entered her backyard through an unlocked gate to photograph a patio that she believed was a violation without ever knocking or announcing herself. Another says Sandra used a master key she obtained from the property management company to enter a homeowner’s garage while they were on vacation to confirm whether they were storing items in violation of HOA storage guidelines.”
I sat up straighter. She entered someone’s garage with a master key. Apparently, the property management company had given her a master key for emergency HOA business, and she interpreted emergency HOA business very broadly.
“Patricia,” I said, “is that legal? Entering a private residence or attached structure without consent using access obtained under false pretenses?” She paused for effect. “No, Daniel, that is very much not legal.”
I let that sink in for a moment.
“The board is now conducting a formal review of Sandra’s conduct as HOA president,” Patricia continued. “They’ve also suspended her access to the property management company’s master key pending the outcome of the review. The four homeowners who came forward are very motivated. One of them has been waiting 18 months for exactly this opportunity.
I thought about Sandra, her binder, her measuring tape, her 7:45 a.m. doorbell rings, her absolute certainty that the rules existed to serve her.
“Okay,” I said, “what do I need to do?”
“Nothing,” Patricia said, “enjoy Seattle. Come home when you plan to. I’ll be in touch if anything requires your attention.”
I went back to work. I ordered Thai food that night. I watched a movie. I slept extremely well.
On day 12, Patricia sent me a text that said simply, “Sandra has retained a different attorney. Bryce apparently concluded this wasn’t going well.”
On day 14, the last day of my trip, she sent another, “Board meeting tonight. You don’t need to be there. I’ll send you the summary tomorrow.”
I flew home the next morning. The flight was smooth. The landing was clean. I picked up my bag from baggage claim, got into the ride share I’d booked, and watched the city go by as we drove toward Maplewood Estates.
It was a Tuesday. The neighborhood looked exactly the same as when I’d left. Same trees, same lawns, same street, but something felt different, and it took me a moment to identify what it was.
