Mr. H.O.A.

by Carina Taylor

  "I have. I know things have been crazy this week—especially with our new roommate. But I didn’t forget what this week was."

  Nola pressed her lips tightly together.

  "Maya went home this week, didn’t she?"

  Nola nodded stiffly.

  I pulled her against my chest and rubbed small circles on her shoulders. "I’m sorry. I wish I could make it better."

  "It’s okay. Actually, it’s not. It hurt to say goodbye. But Bane, she was so happy. She was so, incredibly happy to be going home with her mom. Both of them were. I want to be glad for them."

  I twisted a lock of her hair around one of my fingers. "You will be, someday. Right now, it’s okay to be sad she’s gone."

  "Hey!" Sally’s loud voice echoed through the house, breaking us apart. "I could use some help."

  "Moment ruined," Nola grumbled.

  I couldn’t have agreed more...

  After I finished helping Sally sharpen the blades on the lawn mower, I took on the task of mowing the yard. When that was finished, Sally and I did a little yard work together.

  It was something I liked about him. He wasn’t afraid of work and he'd jumped right in helping around the house.

  Propping the shovel against the house, I knelt down and pulled the rest of the weeds by hand. This was getting out of control. I was the head of the HOA. Why did I suggest the HOA pay to lay bark dust in front of all the houses at the last meeting? Because I was an idiot, that's why.

  Sally pushed the wheelbarrow past me, full of the old shrubs that we'd uprooted. If we were going to lay bark dust, we might as well replant the new up-to-code shrubs. Turns out, I was a code violator with the oversized shrubs in the front flower beds.

  "Whew, we should have done this early this morning." Sally swiped at the sweat on his forehead as he sat down on the porch steps next to me. I tossed a few more weeds into the wheelbarrow.

  "I never knew I hated gardening so much."

  He chuckled. "Not one for good honest labor?"

  I shrugged. "I grew up in an apartment building. Never really had the chance to do outside work."

  Sally frowned at that. "Well, that's a shame. Every kid should have chores to complain about."

  I nodded. I agreed. That was why I hoped my future children would have that. It was never a complaint I voiced to my parents because they had enough on their plates. But my lack of a yard and space to play had given me pretty clear ideas on what type of growing up I wanted my kids to have.

  Nola's stories of playing outside all day had seemed so charming. Her dad taking the time to teach her how to repair things. Skills that I'd never learned. I hoped I’d be able to meet her parents, some day.

  "You know, sometimes I wonder what she sees in you."

  "Sees in me? What are you talking about?" I stood up and grabbed the shovel that leaned against the house.

  "Nola."

  "Eh?"

  "I was asking what Nola sees in you."

  "A roommate."

  Sally chuckled. "No, definitely not that. She's got other ideas for you."

  I grinned at that. "I think she’s a special person myself."

  We worked for another fifteen minutes. Sally was oddly quiet.

  "Have you found anything out about the deposits?" I asked as I put away the tools in the small garden shed.

  "I looked into that man you told me to. Sterling Parsons. I found something interesting. He and my apartment manager are brothers-in-law."

  "What?" I slammed the door with a little more force than necessary. "How is that possible?"

  "Sterling is married to Chippy’s sister. Here’s another interesting piece: Sterling Parsons owns the wrecking company that was recommended to me." Sally cleared his throat. "Mercier is being overcharged, and when I drove by the site, the work is stalled out."

  "You're going to talk to him today?" I asked.

  "Yes, but I'll be going with a summons and a sheriff," Sally said as we walked into the house.

  "Why is that?"

  Sally smirked. "Because Chippy stole the deposits. I think he might be splitting those profits with Sterling. Their demo crew is being paid minimum wage."

  "Aha. The classic apartment manager thieving bit."

  "Yup." The 'p' popped on the end of the word. "It’s even worse that Sebastian Mercier hired Chippy's brother to head up the demolition of the building without checking more thoroughly."

  I couldn't fight the chuckle. "Keeping it all in the family, I see. Well, Mercier's bound to feel like a fool if this is true."

  "I agree with you on that." Sally grabbed the keys to his truck from the kitchen counter. "Care to come with me?"

  I snagged my coat off the chair. "With pleasure."

  Following Sally out to his car, I took a moment to lock the front door, since Nola had headed over to Tori’s.

  "You're pretty careful with this house, aren't you?"

  I shrugged. "Well, technically it's not mine, so I should take even better care of it than I would my own property. I'll drive."

  Sally's eyes narrowed on me as I unlocked my car. "You're something else, aren't you?"

  I ignored his comment and started the car, rolling the windows down to let some fresh air in. It wasn't miserably hot yet, but it would get there eventually. Ten in the morning was when it usually started warming up. We pulled out of the neighborhood and I stopped at the gas station next to the supermarket. I pulled out a couple twenties and paid the attendant to fill it up.

  "You pay cash for a lot of stuff, don't you?" Sally asked.

  "It's a good policy. Makes sure you don't get in over your head."

  Sally nodded. "I knew I liked you right away. So tell me why you haven't bought a place. I hear you're good at what you do as a real estate agent. I imagine you could get the inside scoop on any house you wanted."

  "I opened my own real estate office last year. I've been operating it on a cash basis, and it's been growing. I've put buying my own house on the back burner because I want to pay cash for that too. Of course, I owe Nola's friend rent for the time we've lived in their house. That will set back my plans a bit."

  "You paid cash for your business? And plan on paying cash for your house?" Sally asked incredulously. That usually was the response I got from people. Most people accepted debt as a way of life. I'd learned the detriments of that.

  He reached over and slapped my shoulder. "Sorry—that didn't come out right. I think it’s great. Now let’s go talk with the sheriff. He’s been helping me gather evidence."

  "I’ve never caught a thief before."

  Sally smirked. "It’ll be a first time for both of us."

  CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

  Homeowners Association Rule #84:

  Porch colors must be chosen from the HOA approved list.

  Work seemed to drag by. My mind was occupied with thoughts of Chippy stealing money. Money that I’d accused my dad of stealing.

  When Bane and Dad came home the night before, the two of them had big fat grins on their faces and were acting like the best friends in the world. I’d become a third wheel, even though Bane and I were dating. I think. There had been no dates yet.

  After their best friend bonding moment, they came home and told me all about how Chippy and Sterling had run a long con to steal over eighty thousand dollars from the tenants, Mercier, and the city.

  They decided we needed to celebrate the discovery with dinner and dessert that they planned on making together. Bane and Dad were practically doing happy dances around the kitchen.

  So we were going to eat. Together. The three of us.

  Sure, I was happy to spend time with my dad. I was glad we were working on repairing our relationship. But I wanted some time with Bane by myself.

  Dad and Bane were in the kitchen, cooking dinner while I responded to my mother’s email. Her handle was Junebug4. It made me smile every time it popped up. She was on her way home. A few days of debriefing in the States, and then she would be coming to Rive
rly. I missed her. Maybe she’d be able to break up the tricycle in this house, as Nate would call it. Which only led to another issue. How did I explain this situation to my mom? Dad was a good sport playing along. But Mom would be ready to come home and spend time with her family, not pretend like she was a stranger in her own home.

  "Nola, we need to talk."

  Words I never liked to hear coming from one of my parents. "What is it, Dad?"

  His stern face softened. I glanced away, realizing I'd called him 'Dad.' The past couple of weeks had shown me exactly how much I missed the man who had raised me. The man who had taught me how to fix a sink and throw a softball. The person who had been the hero every young girl needed...until he wasn't.

  "I think...I think that it's time I set some things straight."

  I glanced up in surprise. He turned around and pulled an iced tea out of the fridge and passed it to me.

  "Let's sit down and talk about it."

  "Where’s Bane?"

  Dad jerked his head toward the hall. "He said he was going to take a shower."

  I nodded. "I'd like to talk."

  We sat down on opposite ends of the couch. He adjusted the front of his shirt.

  "Nola, I know I've been absent. That was never what I wanted. I remember a time when you and I were inseparable. You were the best apprentice a guy could ask for."

  I nodded but let him keep speaking. Complimenting my work was his equivalent of a flowery speech.

  "And while I know I played a part in getting wrapped up in my business, I can't help but feel that there's something more to this. That I somehow hurt you."

  I swallowed the lump in my throat. I hated this. I hated seeing him hurting. I hated thinking that I could have been wrong. Because if I was wrong, I'd caused irreparable grief between my father and me.

  But voicing the issues meant that I would have to air some other hurts.

  "Riley’s disappearance really did a number on you, didn't it?"

  "Yeah, it did."

  "But that can’t be all. I've explained it, but I feel like there's more between us. What else has pushed you away?"

  If we were going to talk about this, it would be ten times better if I ripped off the band aid. "You used to give back to the community. Then you stopped! You changed. You became focused on business. You didn’t have time for helping other people."

  Dad blew a deep breath out of his lips. "Ah."

  "I know I shouldn’t judge you based on if you give money away, but it hurt. You had always taught me to help other people. To look out for the needs of others. And when you stopped doing that, it felt like a personal betrayal."

  Dad nodded. "I see. With Riley and the donations. You’re right. I did teach you that being a good friend is important. And hopefully I’ve taught you that money should be used to help people. I guess I hadn’t realized how closely you were paying attention to me anymore."

  I clenched my teeth together. "Whether or not I was paying attention shouldn’t change the fact that you help people."

  Dad took a sip of his ice tea. "Nola. We’ve talked about Riley. You know my reasons for it. I wish that things had been different, but I tried to help her the best I could in that moment. I hope we find her again, and that we can have her back in the family. I miss that girl. But she made a hard choice. A selfless choice. A choice I told her I would support her with. Just like I wanted to support you working in the DHS office and volunteering in the group home."

  The lump in my throat grew as I tried to imagine being in dad's position. Deciding between helping someone in need and disappointing his own daughter. It was an impossible decision. Now that I knew why he did what he did, I was glad he chose to help Riley.

  "As for the other issue, when people know that you have money, you start having friends and relatives you never knew you had. Everyone has an idea of how you can give your money. Everyone knows exactly which charity you should donate to. What startup you should invest in. When the community knows you like to help people, they begin pounding on your door demanding you help with whatever they have in mind—whether it's a charity or a business proposition. I got tired of that. I started making my donations a quiet thing. I don't go to benefits or fundraisers anymore. Instead, I make sure my donations are as quiet as possible. Sharon and Rob have been great about keeping it a secret that I help them. I can't help everyone—even my resources are limited—but I can at least make a difference in a few lives."

  I wiggled my jaw back and forth. "You mean you're the group home's sponsor?"

  Dad's eyes widened. "Well, yes. I figured you knew that."

  "No! No, I didn't!"

  Dad cleared his throat. "Hmm, Sharon and Rob are more tight lipped than I thought. I knew I liked them."

  I leaned across the couch and flung my arms around his neck. "I've been such a jerk! A straight up a—"

  "It's okay." Dad patted my back. "It was one big giant misunderstanding."

  "But I—"

  "Hey kiddo, don't you dare cry. Because if you cry, then I'll cry and it'll smudge my mascara."

  And that was when I knew he'd forgiven me.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

  Homeowners Association Rule #137:

  Garage sales strictly forbidden.

  Friday morning, I sat on the big king sized bed with my laptop open. I’d just thrown my first load of laundry in the wash. Nola was at the office, Sally could be anywhere for all I knew, and I had taken a day off. It felt marvelous. Maybe it was the fact that it had been a couple years since I had taken a Friday off, I don’t know, but it was glorious.

  My to-do list was a mile long, and I couldn’t decide which part I wanted to tackle first. Bills? Belated birthday cards to family? Laundry?

  I settled on laundry and emailing the owners of the house. Nola kept forgetting—which was fine. She wasn’t the most organized person I’d ever met, and to her, staying here wasn’t a big deal, but I wanted to find out how much I owed them in rent. I needed to clear up a few things before I could start house shopping.

  I’d earned two large commissions checks that week, and it had bumped up my savings to a new level. I had my eye on the perfect house. One that Nola would love. On one hand, I felt like I was moving fast with her and that we should at least go on a date before we talked marriage. But reality was that we had lived together for a couple months now. Seeing each other every day. Spending time together every day. And I never wanted it to stop. I knew without a doubt that I wanted to marry her.

  I could only hope she felt the same.

  I pulled up the county GIS maps and searched for 268 Cypress Avenue, Riverly, OR. All I needed was to find out the name of the people that owned the house. Nola never told me.

  It took a moment to load.

  When the selection was made, the information box popped up.

  Mercier, Sebastian.

  That couldn’t be right.

  I ran the search again.

  Mercier, Sebastian.

  Same answer. I tried a few other lots in the neighborhood to see who they were registered to. They all lined up correctly with the homeowner. Fredrick. Carol. Jan.

  Sebastian Mercier owned the house. A sucker punch would have been easier to breathe through. Was Sebastian the friend out traveling the world? She didn’t think to tell me that the man I thought was stealing from us, was also the man whose house we were living in?

  And now that we discovered none of it was Mercier’s fault, I felt even worse. Nola had lied to me!

  I tossed the laptop aside and stomped into the bathroom. I rested my hands on the bathroom counter as I stared at myself in the mirror.

  After ten deep breaths, I tried to think through Nola’s reasoning.

  She’d worked for Mercier before. Check.

  He’d been a type of mentor. Check.

  She knew I didn’t like him. Check.

  I knew the kind of person she was. Check.

  Therefore, I knew she hadn’t kept that information from me with
malicious intent. It had probably been with good intention—such as giving me a place to live.

  It hurt being surprised like that. But it made sense. It made sense why Sally was here. It made sense why she was so close with him. She'd probably known him for years and they'd probably worked closely together when she interned for Mercier. Sometimes their relationship almost seemed like father and daughter.

  Whatever Nola’s reasons were, I would wait to speak with her face to face before I jumped to any wild conclusions. It was against everything in my nature to not think ten steps ahead.

  So instead of overthinking, I picked up my second basket of clothes. Balancing my clothes basket on my hip while I opened the laundry room door was rather hard to do with narrow hips. When I opened the dryer to throw my already washed clothes in, I met with a road block. The dryer was already full of Nola’s clothes.

  Someday I hoped the girl would be able to switch her laundry, but it wasn't today. I sat down my basket of dirty clothes and grabbed the extra clean hamper, filling it with the laundry. I would fold them once I got the laundry switched. As I tossed her jeans, shirts, and blouses into the basket, something clunked when I reached into the bottom of the dryer.

  Her wallet.

  How did she send her wallet through the dryer? I pulled it out and set it on top of the washer for a minute. I finished emptying out the dryer and found a debit card sitting in the bottom of the dryer along with her license. I picked them up and scanned them to see if the washer and dryer experience had damaged them. They looked like they’d survived by some miracle. I swiped off a little extra lint, stuck to them, and prepared to put them back into her wallet.

  Crazy girl was out driving without a wallet, without her license, without any credit cards. Why was I not surprised? Just as I was about to slip her license back into the slot in the wallet, the name on the license caught my attention.

  Funny, I couldn't remember Nola ever telling me her last name. It hadn't seemed important all this time since she’d been calling herself Nola Fox to everyone in the neighborhood. But now, with my eyes riveted on her last name, it seemed incredibly important.