She rattled off a treasurer’s statement—what did we even use that money for besides keeping up the pool?—then old business and new. Dawn reminded everyone about lawn maintenance, house paint colors, pressure washing driveways, and her favorite topics: keeping garage doors closed and wheeling trash cans up from the curb in a timely manner.
“I think this was a mistake,” Parker muttered under his breath.
I chuckled. He really had no idea.
“George? Do you have the slate of officers for next year?”
George stood then, a glint in his eye. “That I do, Madam President.”
He read through the slate, starting with the secretary and working his way up. No one, including himself, seemed to be running opposed until he got to the president’s position. “And for president, Dawn Crawford and Harriet Moore.”
The crowd gasped.
No one had seen Harriet since ... the Incident.
Dawn schooled her shocked features into something almost cruel. “A person has to be here in order to be placed on the ballot, and I don’t see Harriet.”
“I’m here.”
The clubhouse almost turned over with all the heads swiveling to look toward the back of the room at the same time. I almost got whiplash, too.
Ha! Abi and Rachel are going to be mad they missed this.
At the back of the room stood Harriet: neatly dressed in a pantsuit, well put together, and not at all like the last time I’d seen her.
“So you agree to being on the ballot?” Dawn asked carefully.
“Oh, yes,” said Harriet. “And this would be just as good a time as any to let you know that the renters have moved out of 1415 Sacagawea Trace, and I have moved back in.”
“Surely there’s something in the bylaws that prohibits someone who’s not even lived in the subdivision recently from holding office.”
“Nope, I checked. Besides, I’ve been here the whole time. I just spent the last few months living in the apartment above the garage.”
“But—”
“But nothing, Dawn. It’s all legit. Isn’t it, George?”
“Why, yes,” he said, even though he clearly wanted no part of the catfight that seemed imminent.
Parker put a light hand on my knee and leaned over to whisper into my ear. “This is far more interesting than I thought it was going to be.”
I held very still and told myself not to stare at his hand. His warm, reassuring hand. Someday, I would want to be touched again, and I wanted it to be with a gentle hand like his.
He noticed my stare and took his hand back. “Sorry.”
“No, it was fine. I like your hand,” I said, a little too loudly.
George cleared his throat in that do-you-have-something-you’d-like-to-share-with-the-class way. “What were you saying, Vivian?”
“Nothing, nothing.” I hadn’t had time to recover from telling Parker I liked having his hand on my knee, so my blush was extra fierce as all eyes turned to me.
Except Parker’s.
He was making a concentrated effort not to look at me, but a quick glance at him showed that little muscle in his jaw shifting ever so slightly.
Vivian, get it together!
“No problem here,” I said before turning to Parker with a whisper-squeaked subject change. “I bet business is about to pick up in the Heritage Park Book Club, too.”
