Chapter 4 - The HOA’s Great Miscalculation
Greg grabbed the document, scanning it with a condescending scowl that quickly dissolved into sheer panic.
"This is a formal notice of intent to sue the Sycamore Heights HOA for tortious interference and unauthorized fee collection," Harold explained, his voice loud enough for the gathering neighbors to hear.
"For six months, you have been assessing monthly HOA dues, landscaping fees, and 'overnight guest restriction fines' against Michael and Jenna Vance, despite knowing that Helen Vance was the sole deed holder on record."
"You personally signed a letter telling Helen she was not permitted on the premises without resident approval," Harold continued. "That constitutes illegal restriction of an owner's access to her own real estate asset."
Greg stammered, looking at the legal notice. "I... we... the board assumed—"
"You assumed a widowed mother wouldn't fight back," Harold interrupted coldly. "Helen Vance is currently filing a lien against the HOA for two hundred and forty thousand dollars in illegal fees and damages. If this cul-de-sac isn't clear of unauthorized vehicles in ten minutes, I will add a federal civil rights claim to the docket."
Greg’s face turned bright red. He looked at Jenna, then at Michael, realizing that the "wealthy young power couple" he had paraded around the neighborhood were nothing more than tenants on a ticking timer.
Without saying another word, Greg stepped back onto his golf cart, threw it into reverse, and sped away down the street, leaving Jenna standing alone on the gravel driveway.
Inside the house, the oven timer chimed softly, signaling that the pre-heated stove was ready for the Thanksgiving turkey that would never be cooked.
Michael sank onto the stone porch steps, burying his head in his hands.
"Jenna..." Michael choked out, his voice hollow. "What did you do?"
"What did I do?!" Jenna screamed, turning her fury on him. "Your mother is a psycho! She’s doing this to embarrass us! Call her right now! Beg her! Tell her she can come to Thanksgiving!"
May you like
Harold paused at the end of the walkway, turning back one last time.
"It’s too late for a seat at the table, Jenna," Harold said softly. "The table has been sold."
