“If that’s true and your overall goal is building community, then why are you hosting this meeting with so many people missing?” I school my features, not wanting to let anyone see how much joy I feel in getting a rise out of Nate. “I know there wasn’t anything posted in the Facebook group, and my parents, Anderson and Kim Carter, who have been homeowners in this neighborhood for thirty years, had no idea about this meeting. Maybe I’m missing something, but that doesn’t seem very conducive to your supposed ‘building a stronger community’ mission.”
His face turns bright red beneath the recessed lighting when I use air quotes while talking. My toes curl in my sneakers as I watch his feelings play across his face.
Pissing off Nathanial Adams is my kink.
“She’s right,” an older woman I recognize from Nate’s morning walks says. “It is important to have everyone involved. Why weren’t they invited?”
“I can answer that one for you,” I say before Nate can respond. I weave through the small crowd until I’m standing beside him at the front of the room. We’re shoulder to shoulder and the heat radiating off him elevates my body temperature. “I think my good friend Nate here is hosting tonight in order to keep me off of the ballot for HOA president. I grew up in this neighborhood, but because I moved out for a few years, he’s worried I’m not qualified for the job.”
Nate shifts beside me. His anxiety is practically tangible.
“No, no. That’s not it at all.” He raises his hands in front of him. “What my old friend here is leaving out is that as we’ve reconnected, she’s mentioned more than once that her time in the Reserve is temporary. Mr. Bridgewerth leaving was a surprise to everyone, and we don’t want something like this to reoccur. Since she’s not a homeowner or a renter and is only sleeping in her childhood bedroom for the time being, we can’t be sure she’s dedicated to staying at all.”
As far as digs go, calling me a loser stuck in my parents’ house is pretty fucking effective. I even see Ashleigh flinch from the impact of it.
“Well, do you have to be a homeowner to run for the HOA? If so, I think that makes all of this meeting nonsense pretty unnecessary.” Mr. Stanley, who hasn’t aged a day since I graduated from high school, asks from a chair in the corner. “Also, what’s all this I keep hearing about you hating the founding fathers? Are you some kind of communist or something?”
I bite my tongue so hard I taste blood and it’s a testament to my self-control.
Not only did I tell the Karens about Nate killing my Ben Franklin, I also stuffed every mailbox full of flyers that may or may not claim that Nate thinks the Declaration of Independence is a hoax and that Ben Franklin never existed.
It’s almost scary how many people didn’t even question that it was the truth.
“I do not hate the founding fathers, nor do I believe the Declaration of Independence is a conspiracy created by the deep state. I’ve seen the flyers going around and I can guarantee that they are just someone’s idea of a joke. It’s unequivocally false,” Nate says to Mr. Stanley before aiming a scathing glare my way. “Now, on to your other question—”
Nate begins, but I quickly cut him off. If there was one thing I was prepared for tonight, it was this question. And I’m not letting Nate put his negative spin on it.
“No, Mr. Stanley, you don’t have to be a homeowner to be part of the board. You can be a renter or even live with a family member.” I recite what I read online before I came. “All you need to be a member of the HOA is dedication and the desire to serve. As someone who has lived in this neighborhood since the day my parents brought me home from the hospital, nobody is more dedicated to seeing this community thrive. I’m running because I’m for less overreach and more homeowners’ rights. Just like the founding fathers envisioned.”
“Me too! That’s what I’m for too!” Nate tries to steal my thunder before shifting the conversation. “Now that we have all of that figured out, I have drinks and snacks in the kitchen for everyone. Please feel free to help yourself.”
Nobody needs further encouragement. Everyone leaps out of their seats and heads toward the aforementioned food and drinks. I start to follow, thinking Nate probably splurged on good wine to impress everyone, but before I can make it, his fingers wrap around my wrist.
“Collins?” Something in his voice tamps down my irritation. “Would you mind staying after everyone leaves?”
It sounds like a setup and my serial killer theory is beginning to feel more and more plausible, but I’m nothing if not a glutton for punishment.
“Sure,” I agree, my curiosity more than a little bit piqued.
Plus, if all else fails, I’m pretty sure I can trick him into saying something else incriminating enough to put on my next flyer.
Chapter 13
As the last two women leave Nate’s house, leveling me with a final glare before the door shuts behind them, a heavy silence falls over the now-empty space. It’s later than I thought it would be. Apparently, suburban folks love a good spread on a weeknight. There’s not a single scrap of food left over on the many platters scattered across his kitchen. Empty wine bottles and glasses litter every surface in sight.
“So . . .” Nerves I didn’t expect come out of nowhere. “What a night, am I right?”
His back is toward me as he finishes locking up and I take a moment to stare without him knowing. I was right when I guessed his outfit earlier. His khaki pants mold to the backs of his thighs, which have grown thicker since our high school days. As the night wore on, he undid the buttons on his sleeves and rolled them up. He’s always so uptight, so polished, that the barest sight of his forearms sent a few of his guests scrambling.
“That’s one way to put it.” He runs his hand through his slightly overgrown hair. He sounds tired, run-down even, and I can’t help but wonder if he’s regretting asking me to stay. “You were a hit though.”
Much to my shock and awe, he’s not wrong.
After I said goodbye to Ashleigh with promises to text her when I got home and meet her for lunch to debrief tomorrow, I was forced to mingle with Nate’s other guests. I tapped into my extrovert reserves and made my way around the room.
I made sure to say hi to the neighbors I’ve known throughout the years, asking how their spouses and children were doing, but also made sure to introduce myself to the attendees I hadn’t yet met. I even managed to wrangle an invitation from Mrs. Morris to join her and Nate on their morning walks. Nate’s eyes almost popped out of his head when she offered, and although agreeing was on the tip of my tongue, I politely declined.