Page 12 of No Bones About It

Chapter

Six

The clubhouse swallows me into a beige-washed version of Fall. My nose wrinkles at the pungent artificial scent of cinnamon apple while harvest plaid bows and garlands of pastel silk leaves draped over every horizontal surface assault my eyes.

I let out an audible gasp when I see cream pumpkins.

Cream. Pumpkins.

It's like they managed to suck every ounce of Halloween out of Halloween, leaving behind this beige-washed nightmare. Not a ghost, goblin, witch, or nary a jack-o'-lantern in sight. The candy dish is filled with those little strawberry hard candies my grandma always kept in her purse instead of candy corn.

It's like Halloween Hell in here.

I tug at my Spooky Bitches shirt. I was brave when I pulled it on, but now I’m feeling so out of place. Exposed. Raw. I’ve never felt like more of an underdog than I do here at this moment.

With a shudder, I pass through the entryway and into the all-purpose room currently housing the emergency meeting. I sit in the last row between Dawn and Never.

Lois stands and proudly raps the gavel calling the meeting to order.

“She has a gavel? This really is preposterous,” I whisper out of the side of my mouth to Dawn, who snorts in reply.

“Welcome fellow Homeowners Association leadership members,” she says, bestowing a glowing smile on the people seated along the table she is presiding over. Her smile falls as she looks out over the crowd and says, “And…neighbors.”

When her eyes land on my face, hers goes stony.

“We are here today to discuss an amendment to the association rules as they pertain to holiday decorations outside of inflatables. While we certainly want everyone to,” she pauses as chooses her words, “express themselves, we must all do so in a manner that is respectful to our neighbors and our values as a community.”

Community values? This is exactly why I hadn’t wanted to purchase a home that had a HOA, but clearly I had lost that battle with my ex. And now he’s gone, and here I am, staring down the very ramifications I had been concerned about—interfering, nosy busybodies sticking their bony little fingers into everyone's business.

She grimaces at the crowd in an attempt at a smile and then sits down. I see Never texting out of the corner of my eye, followed by an audible chant that goes up from the crowd outside.

“Hey, hey! Ho, Ho! That H O A has got to go!” drifts into the room.

Lois’s face undergoes an amazing transformation through every shade of pink, red, and magenta I’ve ever seen. She raps her gavel loudly on the table and grits out, “This is a closed meeting. It will be respectful and orderly, or everyone will be dismissed.”

Dawn stands next to me, gives a slight bow, and says, “Esteemed Madame Chairwoman of the venerable Autumn Acres hallowed Homeowner’s Association."

A wave of laughter passes through the crowd. Even some of the members seated up front laugh.

Dawn continues, “Could you please tell me, under the HOA charter, what section one point three paragraph four states?”

Lois’s face mottles and she huffs out, “Of course I can. It states that meetings should be open. But that doesn’t mean they have to be.”

Dawn raises a finger. “Actually, no. It states they, and I quote, shall be open to residents. You see, ‘shall’ is very different from ‘should.’ You are correct, if someone had used the word should, then it could go either way. But whoever wrote it used the word shall.”

Lois stands up, her chair screeching back in the process. “I wrote them.”

Dawn gasps, dramatically placing her hand over her heart. “You did? Oh, I’m sorry. I wasn’t aware. Then you clearly know the difference between should and shall, and your intent was for open meetings.”

Dawn sits down, a pleased smile on her face. She leans over and whispers without moving her lips, “I knocked her off her game. Go in for the kill.”

I stare back at her. There is no doubt in my mind that Dawn will not in fact be the next state Attorney General. She will be so much more.

“Let’s get on with this,” Lois grits out. “I propose an amendment to qualify that any individual holiday decoration, not just inflatables,” her mouth twists on the word showing her disapproval of said items, “be limited to a reasonable four feet in height.”

Pam throws her a simpering smile and raises her hand, then says, “I second that.”

Lois continues, “We will now open for community comments. Each speaker gets ninety seconds to make their point. You must state your name and address for the record. We have thirty minutes scheduled for comments.”