"And what do we do if someone catches us here?"
"Well, I know it’s okay to stay here, but it would be harder to explain to the neighbors. That’s why we might as well pretend to be married and own this house."
I squeezed the grapefruit. "Pretending to be married is the worst idea I’ve ever heard."
Nola narrowed her eyes at me. "Are you always so pessimistic, Bert?"
"Are you always so annoying?" I smiled as I asked.
"Yes. It's one of my better qualities; at least that's what my kids tell me."
I dropped the spoon on the counter. "What do you mean your kids?"
I glanced over my shoulder and listened for the sound of pitter-pattering feet. Maybe Maya had been hers. I hadn’t stopped to consider it. I assumed Nola had been a nanny to the girl.
Nola laughed. "Not my kids. The kids I work with. I work in a group home at the edge of town. Why did you think I was at the park with Maya?"
With a sigh of relief, I picked up the fruit and spoon and made my way to the barstools. "I just assumed you were watching a friend's kid or something like that."
She began opening and closing cupboards, seemingly taking stock of the contents. They appeared to be fully stocked.
"You said your friends are traveling."
"Yes, they like to go on long trips. I don’t even know if they’ve really lived in this house."
"Are they gone like this often? It doesn’t make sense that they would have fully stocked cupboards if they’re always gone."
Nola didn’t bother to turn around to look at me. "I have no clue. It doesn't make sense to me either. But they’re well off, so maybe they just don’t like the idea of empty cupboards. Some people always seem to have a surplus, while others seem doomed to struggle."
I nodded.
"People like you."
I sputtered as I accidentally squirted the grapefruit in my eye. "What do you mean people like me?"
"I mean, you lived in a run-down apartment while this house sat empty."
"The same could be said for you," I shot back.
"Yes, but I made that choice. I wanted to stand on my own two feet, but I also wanted to see what Sebastian Mercier's apartments were like. I'd heard about them but wanted to experience them for myself."
"And what did you experience?"
She laughed humorlessly. "Mold and asbestos exposure. And a growing certainty that Mercier is a ruthless businessman. I wondered if you were similar to him. But then again, you lived in those crappy apartments too."
"Maybe I lived there by choice."
Nola walked over to the counter and leaned her elbows on top. "Now why would you do that?"
I tapped the grapefruit with my thumb while I debated how to answer her. "I have a budget. I don’t like to go outside of that budget."
She cocked her head to the side. "So you stayed at The Market Street Apartments because it was within your budget?"
"Yes. I don’t like to overextend myself."
"Sebastian Mercier should take some money managing lessons from you. He obviously overextended himself if he had to keep those deposits." She began muttering under her breath, something that sounded suspiciously like, "Unscrupulous old goat."
I thought back to my unanswered emails about the return of our deposits. She had a point. If a man like Mercier was going to keep the deposits, that meant there weren't a lot of scruples involved. Two thousand dollars was a hefty deposit on such a trashy apartment in the first place.
"You talked to the owners about staying here, right?"
Nola cleared her throat and straightened her shoulders. "Not exactly."
"What does that mean?" I ground out. "Do we have permission or not?"
"They told me to come stay any time I wanted. I can’t exactly call them up right now!"
"We live in the twenty-first century! Of course you can."
"You haven’t spent much time in Uganda, have you?" She snapped.
I rolled my shoulders, trying to release the tension residing there. "Okay, fair enough. Can you email them? Then the next time they get service they can answer you. But we're not going to stay here long, right?"
"Right. Just until something better opens up." She crossed her chest with her fingers.
"Okay. Where did you park? I didn't see a car when I drove in."
"In the garage."
"How did you get in there? It's a key-code."
"I'm good at hacking?"
"Is that a question?"
"I'm good at hacking," she replied firmly with a nod.
"Remind me never to make you mad."
She grinned. "Just kidding, I knew the code. Now, let’s go look at the rest of the house. We'll decide which rooms we want."
I tossed the rest of the grapefruit in the trash and began my self-exploring tour of the house. The main living area was open concept. The kitchen had a large island and bar separating it from the living room and a dining room running parallel to it. It was walled off from the front entry, however. On one end of the house, we discovered an enormous master suite with a laundry room through the bathroom.
On the other end of the house, there were two more bedrooms and a bathroom.
Upstairs, there was a sizeable bonus room, a study, and another bathroom.
"You want the master suite?" I asked her once we finished the house tour.
"Oh no, you go for it. I like one of the bedrooms on the other end of the house better."
"There's no ensuite bathroom on that side though."
She shook her head. "It's not that far down the hall. Besides, the master bedroom had that king bed. You're taller than me. I don't mind sleeping on a queen. We can be the king and queen of our castle!"
She flung her arms out to her side and spun around in a circle where she stood in the living room.
Her carefree grin set my heart racing.
She reached out and grabbed my hands, dragging me with her in a full revolution. I dragged my feet, lost in watching her excitement.
"Loosen up, Bert. This is the answer to all of our problems. It will be fun! I’ve never been married before."
She threw her head back and laughed maniacally, her hands still gripping mine. Her soft hands had a tenacious hold. I wasn't sure I could break away if I tried. And I didn't want to try. Holding her hands was the most natural thing in the world.
I was in deep trouble.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Homeowners Association Rule #57:
Each household must have a representative at each HOA meeting.
If Nola thought I was going to be the only one representing the Fox couple as long as we lived in the neighborhood, she was dead wrong. It was her idea to live in the house. It was her idea to stay here. It was her friend’s house. She knew way more about it than I did.
Faking marriage? Yes, that was my fault, but it was an attempt to have equal footing. Pretending to be a married couple had just seemed like an easy solution at the time of Carol’s inquisition. Why couldn't we be siblings? But no, she had to place those slender hands of hers on my bare skin, and now it felt like I'd been branded by her.
Nola’s explanations about the house were too vague for my liking, however. I’d have to check the county maps and find the owner’s name. I’d feel better if I talked to them—or emailed them—about staying there myself.
"Why can’t you come to the HOA meeting with me?" I asked her as I pulled on my shoes.
Nola sat on the couch scrolling through Netflix. "It’s Grace’s birthday tonight. I’m stopping by for cake."
"I’ll come with you." It didn’t matter that I had no clue who Grace was. I only knew that I did not want to go to a neighborhood meeting and pretend to be something I wasn’t.
"No, you should go to the meeting. We’ll need to know the HOA rules if we’re going to live here. Besides, I won’t be at the party for long. High schoolers usually don’t like to hang out with old people on their birthdays." She smiled at me but offered no further expl
anation of who Grace was.
"You owe me," I told her as I opened the front door.
"Good luck collecting!" She laughed evilly as I stomped out the door.
According to the flyer that the ever-helpful-Carol gave us, there was a large gazebo where they liked to hold their weekly HOA meetings. There was a large community space that held the outdoor pool, rec building, and gazebo. It was only two streets down from Cypress Avenue, so I didn’t bother driving.
It was the perfect evening to walk. Still sunny and warm and giving off that delusional bright feeling that everything was going to work out all right.
As I approached the community green space, the hum of voices filled the air. A few people were still walking towards the gazebo, while there were at least twenty more inside.
I walked up the three steps into the gazebo, and the chatter died down at the same time I reached the top step. The folding chairs spread throughout the gazebo were half-occupied. There were still several people standing together and looking at me. I nodded hello to a gentleman to my left. I recognized him as the man with the big white dog from the first day I drove through Willow Loop. He smiled and nodded back at me.
"Welcome! Welcome. Why don't you sit here by me, Mr. Fox?"
I turned to find Carol sitting in the front row, waving exaggeratedly at me. Why didn't I pack my stuff back into my SUV and get out of there? There was still time to get away.
I glanced around at the people filling the gazebo, and I knew why I wouldn't leave.
These were future clients. The gazebo was full of people who would either A) move for future work or B) buy an investment property. They would have the money to fund either of those. Most people who could afford a neighborhood like this either had substantial cash or a strong credit line to back them.
If I could play out this hand...make it through a week or two...I could build relationships with the residents. I could "move" but still maintain those connections. It would be the perfect out—as long as I could get Nola on board with me.
Carol patted the seat next to her. I wanted to sit anywhere but there. Instead of running like I wanted to, I smiled and said, "Thank you! It's nice to recognize a face in the room. Lots of people here." I gestured to the gazebo full of people. Most of them looked just about as thrilled as I felt to be there. A middle-aged woman stepped up to the make-shift podium, tapping a smartphone against the top.
"Hello, everyone. We'll be getting right to business tonight. I need to get home and get a cake out of the oven. Now, does anyone have questions or concerns from this month?"
Multiple voices spoke at once, crashing on top of each other, each growing louder than the next. I fought the urge to groan.
"Can we talk about dog walking costs being covered with the HOA fee?"
"How about the costs of watering the yard? It seemed to be a little more expensive this month."
"Why don't we fence in the green space for the dogs? And kids?"
The woman standing at the front frowned but took the time to answer the questions with the patience of a saint.
Carol leaned closer to me and whispered, "That's Jan, the current HOA president. I thought for sure I would be elected this year."
Her hand moved to rest on my knee. It was difficult not to flinch. I pretended like I needed to cough. I turned away from her and coughed into my elbow, shifting my whole body away from her. The man behind me—the dog man—caught my eye and smirked. He mouthed, "Subtle."
I raised my eyebrows at him before I turned around, careful not to get too close to Carol again. That look in her eye was not like my motherly Darla, who patted me on the shoulder all the time. Darla's hands never wandered to my inner thigh.
Fighting a shudder, I focused all of my attention on Jan, the HOA president.
She was saying, "With the housing influx, we need to vote on whether the through road will connect to the neighborhood over on Redwood Way. If we want it, we'll have to present the case to the county, though I don't think it will be difficult to get the approval due to the traffic jams at Fifteenth Street. Having a through road would make it quicker to the elementary school as well. Those of you in favor of a through road, raise your hands. I'll be presenting the case next Monday."
Hands raised all around the room. All except mine.
Carol glanced at me. "Don't you want the road to connect to Redwood? It would shave eight minutes off of the drive to the supermarket."
A few people turned to listen to her as she stared at me with that eerily penetrating gaze of hers. Her hands were inching closer.
"Well, Carol, I guess it depends on what's most important to you. A shorter commute or a safer neighborhood."
A collective gasp swept through the gazebo as though I'd asked if they preferred to be shot or beheaded. The now-retiring president of the HOA looked at me. "Welcome, Mr. Fox. We know you're new to the neighborhood, but we're always interested to learn a different point of view. What harm could a through traffic road cause?"
I pulled at the collar of my shirt, wishing I'd simply kept my mouth shut, or better yet, raised my hand with everyone else. I didn’t want to stand out. I wanted to be as forgettable as possible.
Unfortunately, I was on the spot now. "Adding a through traffic road will increase both car and foot traffic. It opens the neighborhood up to both speeding and possible break-ins. In the short time I've been here, I've seen that several of you have children. If Willow Loop were to connect with Redwood Way, commuters from Burnside to Riverly would start using it to save time on their commutes, making it less safe for your children to be biking and rollerblading down the street. The ability to maintain your property values will crash down. The HOA would become obsolete."
A few gasps sounded at such ominous words, but several heads were nodding by the time I finished speaking.
"What do you do, Mr. Fox?" Jan asked.
I cleared my throat before I answered her. "I'm a realtor."
"Oh, how marvelous! Then you understand the ins and outs of property values." Jan clapped her hands together. "You all, I think I'm going to have to reconsider my vote for a connecting road. A five-minute commute isn't that bad compared to the safety of the children and maintaining the property values in the neighborhood. Thank you to Mr. Fox for bringing it to our attention. What a marvelous addition you are to the neighborhood!"
Jan smiled at me, but I didn’t like the calculating look in her eye. Carol happily patted my arm and loudly explained to everyone that she lived next to "this smart man."
They spent another fifteen minutes chatting about keeping their property values up. The younger man, who’d teased me earlier, leaned forward and patted me on the back.
"You've done it now," he said with a wink and a smile.
I turned around to talk with him, and on a closer look, I realized it was the man I saw the first day I drove through the Willow Loop neighborhood. He was the man being dragged around by the big white dog.
"I didn't mean to cause problems at my first meeting."
"Nothing wrong with it. Except a possible civil war." His smile took the sting out of his words. He reached out a hand. I grasped it, and he gave mine a firm shake. "I’m Ian."
"Bane. You lived here long?" I asked.
"A couple years."
"Family?"
"Wife. You've probably seen her walking our dog in the neighborhood."
"I don't think I've seen her. I'm usually at work during the day though."
"Well, we'll have to do dinner sometime. You and your wife are the only other young couple in the neighborhood without children."
Me and my wife. Why did it sound so scary and right at the same time?
"But now you're probably going to be busier than ever." He motioned to the podium.
"What do—" I didn't have a chance to ask him to explain.
Jan tapped the picnic table. "This will be the last time I participate in these meetings as President of the HOA. You'll have to have your votes ready by the block p
arty on Thursday. So, make sure you make a wise decision. As for me, I know who I'll be voting for. Now, on to the noise complaints..."
I groaned and turned around as Ian chuckled quietly behind me. I hadn't heard how the voting process worked. Hopefully, we’d have a new place to live and would be gone from the Willow Loop neighborhood by the next HOA meeting.
CHAPTER NINE
Homeowners Association Rule #33:
Gluten-free options must be available at every neighborhood block party.
The door creaked open, and Bane walked into the front entryway.
He looked...tired.
"Was it bad?" I sat up and pulled my reading glasses off of my face. Grace had sent me home with the script for Beauty and the Beast. She'd made me promise to read it so that I could help her learn her lines since she'd been selected to play the part of Belle. She told me I had to since it was her birthday.
Going to an HOA meeting sounded like the most boring thing in the world. Reading a script out loud to myself in alternating voices? Much more entertaining.
"Worse." He yanked the tie from his neck, slipped his coat off, and flopped into the overstuffed recliner in the living room. The tied dangled from his fingers. He sighed and leaned back. "Is it too early to sleep?"
"No, you haven’t slept in a bed in a week. Of course you're tired." I pulled the throw blanket off the couch and tossed it at him. "Why don't you go jump in that big king bed? Everything will seem better in the morning."
He sighed and rubbed a thumb up the bridge of his nose. "You really think we should live here? You can’t even talk to the owners, and that concerns me."
I sat up and looked at him. He looked weary. Not just tired but worn out. What he needed was to get rid of some of the stress in his life. "I promise you the owners would be ecstatic to know we’re living here. I’m proposing we use the opportunity in front of us and simplify things by pretending we own the house. Besides, it’s not that much of a lie."
"So, are we married?"
"We could be..." I waggled my eyebrows up and down.
He shook his head. "No, that’s not what I mean. How are we going to get through this mess of a fake marriage? And pretending like we are the owners of this house? I’m homeless."
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