FanStory.com
"Milton vs the HOA"


Chapter 1
Milton vs the HOA - Chapter 1

By Jim Wile

Warning: The author has noted that this contains the highest level of language.

For those of you accustomed to Jim Wile’s golf stories or his tales of marvelous new inventions and scientific discoveries, you will find this story to be a pleasant change of pace. Nothing quite as profound as the creation of a replacement for opioid medications or a golf training aid that will revolutionize golf instruction. No, it’s just an offbeat little story of a shy, unassuming accountant named Milton Frobish whose life is about to change dramatically when he buys a home in a homeowners’ association, or HOA.

If you are unfamiliar with what an HOA is, check out the footnote below.* An HOA is only as good as the people living in it and the people running it. Milton is about to learn that lesson most vividly.
 
 
 
Chapter 1
 
 
“C’mon, Milton for Christ’s sake, put a little more muscle into it. Just two more steps to go.”
 
“I’m doing the best I can, Geordie. This wouldn’t be as difficult if you tried helping a little more.”
 
“Don’t go blaming me now. If not for that bitch HOA president, this wouldn’t even be necessary. We oughta sue her ass!”

George Frobish, paralyzed from the waist down since he smashed his car into a tree five years before while on a bender, was dependent on his brother Milton to get his wheelchair up the five steps and into the home they had recently moved into together.

“Just take a breath, hold it, then push, dammit. I’ve gotta get inside and take a piss,” said George.

Milton’s brow was perspiring, and he was winded after the first three steps. He was not a very strong man. At six foot one, he weighed just 148 pounds, and although he had little fat on him, he had even less muscle. A modern-day Ichabod Crane, if you will. He hadn’t thought pushing the wheelchair up the steps was such a good idea, but George had been adamant that he try. He was accustomed to following George’s orders just as he would now.

“On the count of three now, Milton. One… Milton inhaled deeply.… two… he held the breath and prepared to push… three!”  Putting all his might into it, he was able to push the chair up another step and, without stopping, tried to gain the last. The big rear wheels almost made it over the edge of the final step up to the stoop, but Milton’s meager strength gave out at that moment. He could no longer support the weight of the chair and his brother, and the chair came crashing back on him. It threw him backward onto the brick walkway, and he cracked his head hard against it as the chair flipped ass over teakettle over the top of him. The last thing he heard before passing out was George crying, “Oh, shiiiiiiittt!”
 
 
 

It was late afternoon when he awoke, and the light was fading. He’d been unconscious for hours. His head throbbed, and it took him a moment to get his bearings and remember what had happened. He had been trying to push George up the steps into their new home. There had been a ramp there to wheel him down when they left, but it was no longer there when they returned.

As Milton stewed about the probable cause of its absence, he suddenly remembered his brother. He sat up and looked around. He could see George’s limbs protruding from beneath his overturned wheelchair. He stood quickly, but he was light-headed and nearly fell over. He bent from the waist and put his head down to allow the blood to flow back into it, and in that attitude, he stepped over to the overturned wheelchair. When he’d lifted it off his brother and cast it aside, he was met with the sight of George lying prone and unmoving. “Geordie?”

No response.

He nudged him with his foot. “Geordie, wake up now.”

Still no response. When Milton turned him over, he was met with George’s open eyes looking straight at him in a frozen stare. There was a look of fright on his normally imperious face, and his neck was cocked at an absurd angle with his head resting on his shoulder. It was clearly broken.

The vision of trying to push his brother up that last step came flooding back to him. “Oh, Geordie! What have I done? I’m so sorry, Geordie. I just couldn’t manage it. I’m so sorry!”

He sat down beside his brother, took his cold left hand between his two, and wept. In his grief, he didn’t notice a car pull into the driveway of the home next door, and an elderly woman got out. 
 
Esmeralda Green, or Esme as she was known to everyone, heard the gentle weeping from next door and made her slow, torturous way (she has bad feet) over to the house to see what this was about.

“Oh, my goodness! What has happened here? Are you alright, young man?”

Milton stared up at her. “My brother is dead, ma’am. I’ve killed him because I’m a weakling.” Milton’s whimpering turned into wracking sobs then.

Esme’s heart went out to this poor soul, whom she felt needed comfort at this moment, and she lowered herself gingerly to the ground (it would be hell getting herself up again, but she felt it was more important to give comfort) and placed her arms around the sobbing Milton. “There, there.”

Milton let go of George’s hand and hugged this kind woman back. They sat this way for a long time, with him continuing the wracking sobs and her gently rocking him while patting his back and repeating, “I’m so sorry, so very sorry.”

When he was finally cried out, Milton released himself from her embrace and looked at her. She had a kindly face. She was perhaps 75 years old and on the plump side. She reminded him of his mother, whom he had loved dearly.

“I’m Esmeralda Green, but you can call me Esme. I live next door. Have you called 911 yet?”

“No, ma’am. I’ve been unconscious for a while. I’m Milton Frobish, and this is, or I suppose was, my brother George.”

“Milton, you’ve obviously had an accident here. I see blood on your collar and a rather large lump on the back of your head. Are you hurting, dear?”

“I have a pounding headache, and I’m seeing double right now.”

“I think I’d better call 911 for you.”

“That’s probably a good idea. Thank you.”
 
 
 

The paramedics arrived within 15 minutes. There were two of them, a man and a woman. The woman addressed Esme, “Are you the one who called 911?”

“Yes, ma’am. I’m Esmeralda Green. This is Milton Frobish, and this was his brother George,” she said, pointing to the corpse. “My neighbor here has suffered a fall down these steps.”

The female paramedic knelt down to speak to and examine Milton, who remained seated on the sidewalk, while the male paramedic began examining George.

“Mr. Frobish, can you tell me what happened and when?” she asked.

“It’s been several hours. I don’t know exactly when, but it was early afternoon. I’ve been unconscious.”
 
He then described as well as he could the events of the fall and how he now had a pounding headache and was seeing double.

At some point during this recap, a sheriff’s car arrived, and a deputy joined the group. The neighborhood was in a suburban area just outside of Elkhart, Indiana and was under the jurisdiction of the county sheriff’s department.

After the paramedics completed their initial assessment but before loading Milton into the ambulance, the deputy had a few questions for Milton. “Now, Mr. Frobish, can you tell me what happened here?”

“I’ve killed my brother.”

“Did you now?”

“Yes.”

“And how did you kill him?”

“I let his wheelchair fall down the steps.”

“And you had just come out of the house?”

Milton was confused by the question and wasn’t thinking quite clearly at this point. His head was pounding, and his sense of time was distorted. “Yes, earlier. He had a doctor’s appointment.”

“And you were on the top step, and then what happened?”

“Well, partway down from the top step to be exact, and then I just let go.”

“Did you and your brother have a good relationship, Mr. Frobish?”

Milton thought briefly about this, and images of their past life together floated through his mind. George was three years older than Milton and a much more assertive person. He could be cruel to his little brother when he paid attention to him at all. Although Milton was considerably smarter than George, he was never able to best him in an argument because George would always shout him down and call him names.

“He could be a bit of a tyrant at times.”

“And you resented him?”

“Sometimes.”

“One last question, Mr. Frobish. How exactly did you get injured?”

“I fell down the steps too and hit my head on the walkway.”

“Lost your balance when the chair went over, did you?”

“I guess you could put it that way.”

“Thank you, Mr. Frobish. I think that will be all for now. I’m going to submit my report, and more than likely you’ll be contacted by a detective with some further questions.” He nodded to the paramedics then, and they loaded Milton into the ambulance to take him to the hospital.

The deputy turned to Esme and said, “And you are?”

“My name is Esmeralda Green. I live next door.”

“Did you witness the mur… excuse me, incident, Ms. Green?”

“No, sir. I had just come home and heard Mr. Frobish crying. I came over to see what he was crying about, and I saw him sitting by his brother, holding his hand.”

“So, you didn’t see what happened?”

“No, sir, but I don’t think he did it on purpose.”

“No? And why not?”

“He’s such a nice young man. Very polite and seemed very sorry it happened.”

“And how long have you known Mr. Frobish?”

“I just met him an hour ago.”

“Thank you, Ms. Green. I think we’ll let a detective sort this out. Now I’m going to call for one, and I’ll also call the coroner’s office to send out the coroner, so you are free to go.”

“And where will they take the body?”

“To the place where all bodies go under suspicious circumstances: the Elkhart County Morgue.”

Author Notes * HOA: (Homeowners' Association) An organization in a residential community that enforces rules, manages common areas, and oversees shared amenities. Homeowners within the community pay dues to fund its operations and maintenance.

Picture courtesy of Imagen-3


CHARACTERS



Milton Frobish: A meek 41-year-old accountant, who moves into an HOA with his brother, George.

George Frobish (Geordie): The 44-year-old invalid brother of Milton.

Esme Green (pronounced Ez-may): Milton's next-door neighbor. She is 75.


Chapter 2
Milton vs the HOA - Chapter 2

By Jim Wile

Recap of Chapter 1: Brothers Milton and George Frobish have just moved into a house in an HOA. Milton, who is meek and insecure, attempts to push wheelchair-bound George up the five steps to his front door because the ramp that he’d had installed is now missing. But Milton is a stringbean of a man, and he doesn’t quite have the strength to do it. The wheelchair comes crashing back on him, knocking him unconscious and breaking George’s neck.
 
Milton comes to after a few hours and realizes George is dead. He starts crying, which attracts his next-door neighbor, Esme Green, who comes over and comforts him. She calls the paramedics, who arrive soon, as well as a sheriff’s deputy who takes a statement from both Milton and Esme before the paramedics take Milton to the emergency room.
 
 
 
Chapter 2
 
 
Milton was diagnosed with a concussion. He also had several lacerations, and a large contusion on the back of his head where it had hit the walkway. He spent the night at the hospital for observation while under the supervision of another sheriff’s deputy. He was under suspicion of murder, after all. The hospital released him the following day with instructions for his recuperation.
 
Esme had offered to pick him up at the hospital, and he called her. When he’d settled himself in the front seat and they drove off, she asked, “How are you feeling, Milton?”

“Much better, thank you, Esme. I can only see one of you now. Still a slight headache, though, and I’m a bit stiff and sore from the fall. It quite jarred me.”

“I can imagine—falling backwards like that with that heavy weight smashing you against the bricks. It’s a wonder your neck wasn’t broken. I’m so sorry about your brother.”

“Thank you. If only I’d had the strength to push him up that last step… but I’ve never been very strong.”

“I’m sure you did your best, dear. I’m a bit confused, though. A week ago, I noticed an aluminum ramp had been installed, which went from your walkway up to the front door. Then yesterday afternoon, before I left to run errands, I noticed the ramp was gone. I assumed it was no longer needed.”

“I can see why that’s puzzling you; why indeed was the ramp removed when it was still needed? I’m afraid that wasn’t my doing. Before we moved in, I had the ramp installed, but the HOA must have removed it while I took George to the doctor.”

“Why on earth would they do that?”

He related how he suspected Mrs. Dorothy Clodfelter, the president of the HOA, authorized its removal for reasons of aesthetics.

“That makes me so angry, Milton! It isn’t right. That’s just one more item in a long list of grievances I have against this infernal HOA and that woman. I think you may have grounds for a lawsuit. The only thing about a lawsuit against the HOA is that we all end up paying for it.”

“I’m not very litigious by nature, and I certainly wouldn’t want to penalize my neighbors when the fault seems to be attributable to one person’s unfortunate decision.”

“Unfortunate? You’re too kind. Mean and nasty, I would characterize it. And typical of our HOA president. It makes my blood boil to hear of this. I just wish there were something we could do about it.”

In a few minutes, they arrived back home, where a sheriff’s car was sitting in the street out front to keep an eye on Milton. Esme parked, took his arm, and escorted him toward the front door. As they passed the spot where George had expired, Milton stopped momentarily and looked down. He had a sudden flash of those lifeless eyes as they stared up at him from that horribly cocked head. He shuddered and resumed walking—up those fateful steps and finally inside.

Esme came in with him and made him sit on the recliner in his living room while she made them both tea.

“I can’t thank you enough for your kindness, Esme. I don’t know what I would have done without your help.”

“It was my pleasure to help, Milton. It was the neighborly thing to do.”

“It’s just that I’m not used to such kindness from people. Most tend to ignore me.”

“Well, you’ll find the neighbors in this neighborhood are quite decent people. Most, but not all, but that’s a tale for another time.”

Esme left soon after with a promise to call that night.

 
 
 
An hour later, Milton got a phone call. “Is this Milton Frobish?”

“Yes,” said Milton as his heart leapt into his throat.

“This is Detective Arnold Zimmerman from the Elkhart County Sheriff’s Office. Will you be at home this afternoon, Mr. Frobish?”

“Yes.”

“I would like to come talk to you. Are you available right now?”

“Yes.”

“I’ll be there in 20 minutes.”

“Yes.”

Zimmerman hung up.

Milton expected this call since the deputy had notified him about it yesterday, and he had seen a sheriff’s car with a deputy inside parked in front of his house. He shouldn’t be nervous now because it was clearly an accident. He couldn’t quite remember what he’d told the deputy yesterday, but surely it was enough for him to realize nothing untoward had happened, wasn’t it? But still, Milton was nervous. He’d been tongue-tied on the phone, but he would have to control his nerves and come up with more than one-word answers when speaking to the detective in person.

While waiting for him to arrive, Milton began doing the one thing that always relaxed him. He began to sing, and he started with the song he had been practicing lately.
 
 
    Life could be a dream (sh-boom)
    If I could take you up in Paradise up above (sh-boom)
    If you would tell me, I'm the only one that you love
    Life could be a dream, sweetheart
    Hello, hello again, sh-boom and hopin' we'll meet again, boom (ba-boom)
 
 
Milton had a lovely voice with great range and sang lead in a barbershop quartet named Chordially Yours. For such an unassuming and shy person, this may seem incongruous, for being the lead, he carried the melody and had many solo parts. 
 
It’s often the case that introverts make excellent musicians, though, because music provides them with a way of expressing themselves without actually having to talk to people.

In addition to the old barbershop quartet classics like “Sweet Adeline,” they sang a more eclectic program including jazz and swing standards, Christmas songs, and even rock songs such as “Bohemian Rhapsody.”

As Milton got into “Sh-Boom,” his heart rate slowed, and he began to enjoy it.
 
 
    Sh-boom, sh-boom
    La-la-la-la-la-la-la-la-la-la
    Sh-boom, sh-boom
    Life could be a dream, sweetheart.
 
 
Singing was perhaps the only thing he and George had had in common. George had sung bass in Chordially Yours, and the two would often sing together at home aside from their rehearsals with the group. There was little that Milton would miss about George, but singing together would be one thing.

While Milton continued through his quartet’s repertoire, he lost track of the time, and having just sung the ultra-high falsetto part from “Bohemian Rhapsody,”
 
 
    Thunderbolt and lightning, very, very frightening me
    (Galileo) Galileo, (Galileo) Galileo, Galileo Figaro, magnifico
 
 
there was a loud knock on the door, and Milton stopped singing.

When he opened the door, a man in a brown suit was standing on the stoop. He was 50ish and balding. He said, “Are you Milton Frobish?”

“Yes.”

Author Notes



CHARACTERS



Milton Frobish: A meek 41-year-old accountant, who moves into an HOA with his brother, George.

George Frobish (Geordie): The 44-year-old invalid brother of Milton.

Esme Green (pronounced Ez-may): Milton's next-door neighbor. She is 75.

Arnold Zimmerman: The detective investigating the accident on the steps.

Dorothy Clodfelter: The president of the Riverwood HOA.

Picture courtesy of Imagen-3


Chapter 3
Milton vs the HOA - Chapter 3

By Jim Wile

Recap of Chapter 2: Diagnosed with a concussion, Milton spends the night at the hospital under a deputy’s supervision. Esme picks him up the next day and drives him home. On the way, he describes to her the circumstances surrounding the accident and reveals that the HOA president, Dorothy Clodfelter, had ordered the ramp removed because it failed to meet the aesthetics of the neighborhood.
 
Soon Milton receives a phone call from the detective, who will come right over to interview him about the event. To ease his nerves, Milton begins to sing songs that are in the repertoire of his barbershop quartet.
 
 
 
Chapter 3
 
 
“You have an intriguing voice, Mr. Frobish. I couldn’t help but hear you from out here. I’m Detective Zimmerman. Could you please step outside and join me on the stoop so that we may look at the scene of the incident yesterday?”

“Yes,” and Milton joined Zimmerman on the stoop.

“Now according to the deputy’s report, you were taking your brother George to a doctor’s appointment, and you had just left the house and were at the top of the steps when you started to push the wheelchair down over the edge. Then you decided to let it go, which caused the wheelchair to plummet down the steps, causing your brother to break his neck. At the same time, you lost your balance and fell backwards down the steps, striking the back of your head and knocking yourself unconscious. Have I got that right so far?”

Milton was speechless. If his answers to all of Zimmerman’s questions thus far had been but a single word, now he had none at all. He was totally nonplussed by this description of the events. Could that be what he’d told the deputy yesterday? If so, he must have been far less lucid than he’d thought.

When his silence continued for 10 seconds, Zimmerman said, “Mr. Frobish? You’re not much of a talker, are you? Could you please answer my question?”

“Um… I think there’s been some misunderstanding.” He said no more for the moment.

“Isn’t that what you told the deputy yesterday—that you killed your brother?”

“Well, yes, but not intentionally.”

“The deputy also said you thought your brother was a tyrant and you resented him, correct?”

“Yes, I did, and he was, but I still loved him. He was my brother. We used to sing together.”

Zimmerman closed his notebook and just looked at Milton. “Mr. Frobish, why don’t you tell me in your own words what happened yesterday?”

“I will endeavor to do so. Do you suppose we could walk down the steps and start at the bottom?”

“By all means. Whatever will help you describe the scene.”

Milton led the way down the five steps, walked forward a few paces, and turned around to face the steps. Zimmerman did likewise and stood next to him.

Milton began, “We had just arrived back from the doctor’s appointment, and I was wheeling George up the walk when we discovered that the aluminum ramp I’d had installed was no longer there. It was there when we left for the doctor but was gone when we returned.

“Having no other means to ascend the steps to the front stoop, and at my brother’s insistence, I pulled back on the handles to raise the front wheels off the ground and pushed hard to get the large rear wheels over the first step.  This was extremely difficult for me, as I lack upper body strength. I managed to push him up the first three steps but had to rest to gather my strength for the other two.”

Milton paused to catch his breath after that many consecutive words. He was not accustomed to speaking so many at a time.

“Go on.”

After a brief moment, Milton resumed his account. “With great… uh, encouragement from my brother, I took a deep breath and attempted the last two steps. Putting forth immense effort, we achieved the fourth step and nearly the fifth. The large rear wheels almost made it over the edge, but it was not to be. My strength gave out right then, and… and…”

Milton stopped as he replayed that horrible scene over in his mind. He could feel the sudden weight of the laden wheelchair as it crashed back into him. He shuddered and let out a strangled cry as his arms flew out to his sides. He felt suddenly faint and turned ashen. He began to wobble as Detective Zimmerman grabbed him by his upper arms to steady him.

“Perhaps you’d better sit down, Mr. Frobish.”

“Yes, perhaps I should.”

Zimmerman helped him over to the steps, where he sat down on the second one. “I think I get the picture now. Do you know who took down the ramp while you were gone?”

Milton put his head in his hands and shook it slightly. “Before we moved in, I had the ramp installed. I can show you the rental agreement from the rental company. The day we moved in, I was approached by the president of the HOA, who told me in no uncertain terms that the aluminum ramp was an eyesore and had to be removed. If we were to have a ramp at all, she said, it must meet the approval of the Architectural Review Committee or somesuch, and I should submit plans for a more unobtrusive ramp forthwith.”

“Could you tell me the president’s name?”

“Yes, it’s Dorothy Clodfelter.”

Zimmerman made a note of it in his notebook. “So, what was the big hurry to have the ramp replaced?”

“Mrs. Clodfelter claimed it would reduce property values. Just yesterday morning, she called me and asked me why I had not yet submitted my request for a new ramp. We were still in the process of moving in, and, although I had previously told her I fully intended to comply with the rules of the HOA, I told her that I simply hadn’t had time in the single week we had been there to do it. I had planned to address the ramp situation as soon as we were settled in, and I apologized to her for my inaction thus far.”

“You apologized to her?”

Milton looked down and began scraping at a hangnail. “I sought to mollify her. She seems like a formidable woman.”

Zimmerman scratched his head and studied the deputy’s report for a moment. “Mr. Frobish, the deputy reports that he interviewed an Esmeralda Green from next door who was at the scene. What was her part in this?”

“She played no part except to provide me with great comfort several hours after it occurred. She could vouch for the presence and removal of the ramp, though.”

“Alright, Mr. Frobish. I think I have the picture now, and I have enough information to follow up on. You’ll be hearing from me again when I’ve had a chance to question Ms. Green and Mrs. Clodfelter. Thank you for your time, sir, and I wish you well in your recovery.”

“Thank you, Detective.”
 
 
 

Later that evening, Milton sat at his kitchen table eating a cup of chili he’d heated up for his dinner. He and George had always shared the evening meal. Having such disparate interests, they rarely spent time together, but this was one of the few times during the day when they did.

Milton enjoyed pursuits of the mind. He was an avid reader and especially loved a good mystery. He had read almost everything by Agatha Christie, his favorite mystery writer. But he also loved the classics and was especially fond of anything by the Brontë sisters as well as Victor Hugo.

He didn’t watch television except for PBS and an occasional show on the History Channel.

George, by contrast, had loved sports, especially baseball, but football, basketball, and hockey had not been far behind. He had spent hours in front of the TV watching sports with beer and/or spirits and a variety of snacks as his constant companions, while Milton spent his time reading in his room.

While eating his chili, Milton thought back to their history together. They’d had occasional fun times as kids but only when George couldn’t find any of his friends to play with and deigned to play with Milton.

They would go exploring together. There were a couple of houses in town that had been abandoned for years, and some said they were haunted. George would convince Milton to explore with him, always insisting that Milton be the first one to climb a set of rickety stairs or enter an unfamiliar room.

“Why do I always have to go first, Geordie?”

“What are you, a little chicken? Bwawk-buk-buk-buk,” teased George, and Milton always did what he was told for fear his brother wouldn’t play with him anymore.  George would sometimes jump out of a closet and scare him half to death. Once, it even caused him to wet his pants. George teased him unmercifully and told everyone he met about it.

Following George’s accident that put him in a wheelchair five years before, Milton had invited him to live with him. George was 44 and Milton 41. Neither was married, although George had once been. Their parents were both dead, and because George was unable to work at his former job as a warehouse foreman for a plumbing supplier, he required both the financial and physical assistance of his brother.

It was a decision that Milton later came to regret because it was George who had accidentally burned the house down. Even now, Milton had trouble thinking about that event without a great deal of angst.

They had ended up living in a motel while Milton found a new house for them in a neighborhood that was part of a homeowner’s association known as Riverwood. There were 42 homes comprising the HOA, and it was governed by a three-person Board of Directors. Having never lived in an HOA before, he was unfamiliar with the rules and constraints that needed to be followed. He would learn quickly.

Author Notes
CHARACTERS



Milton Frobish: A meek 41-year-old accountant, who moves into an HOA with his brother, George.

George Frobish (Geordie): The 44-year-old invalid brother of Milton.

Esme Green (pronounced Ez-may): Milton's next-door neighbor. She is 75.

Arnold Zimmerman: The detective investigating the accident on the steps.

Dorothy Clodfelter: The president of the Riverwood HOA.

Picture courtesy of Imagen-3


Chapter 4
Milton vs the HOA - Chapter 4

By Jim Wile

Recap of Chapter 3: Milton is interviewed by Detective Zimmerman and tells the story of the accident accurately this time. We learn that the president of the HOA, Dorothy Clodfelter, had ordered the ramp to be removed for “reasons of aesthetics.”
 
Over dinner alone, Milton reminisces on his past relationship with his brother George and how different they were. We learn what a bully George had been to Milton while they were growing up and how seemingly ungrateful George was to Milton after Milton began caring for him following his auto accident five years ago. We also learn George had accidentally set fire to the house, which necessitated their move to a new house in the HOA.
 
 
 
Chapter 4
 
 
It had been two weeks since George’s death. A week ago, Detective Zimmerman called to tell him the investigation had been closed and the death had been declared an accident.

Although Milton was relieved to hear he was no longer a murder suspect, in truth, he had never seriously considered that he would be charged with murder. If he had truly wanted to kill George, pushing him down five steps would surely not have been a logical, guaranteed way to go about it. He couldn’t fathom how anyone could think it would be. Evidently Zimmerman’s interviews with Esme and Dorothy Clodfelter had borne out his version of the story.

He stood now at the end of a pier at Washington Park Beach in Michigan City, Indiana holding an urn containing George’s ashes. It was a fine, clear day in late spring, but it was breezy, and there were white caps on the water. A number of seagulls glided on the breeze as they searched for fish.

Milton’s family used to come to Washington Park Beach during the summers when he and George were kids. It was about an hour from Elkhart. George had been especially fond of coming here. On this late spring day, Milton decided he would drive to Michigan City and spread his ashes. 
 
He had debated whether to keep the urn at home, on the mantel above the fireplace in the living room, but that somehow felt ghoulish. He thought it best to release George to the winds and let his ashes scatter where they may at a place George had enjoyed.

Milton unexpectedly found that he missed his brother. It surprised him because George had been a source of torment and resentment during much of their lives, especially these past five years since they had been living together. George had no other income than a small disability check and did little to help around the house. He expected Milton to manage most everything.

 Milton didn’t have many friends, perhaps only two—the other members of the barbershop quartet—and he didn’t often socialize with them or with the people he worked with. For the most part, his human companionship had been George, and he found that he felt lonely without him. Perhaps Esme would become a friend.
 
With a heavy heart, he grasped the urn and flung the ashes into the air to release them to the wind. “Goodbye, Geordie. I’m sorry for… for… ”

But what exactly was he sorry for? That he was too weak to push George up that last step? That he and George had not had a closer relationship? That George, in reality, had been a terrible person whom he both loved and hated? These were uncomfortable thoughts that Milton did not wish to dwell on.

“I’m just sorry you died, Geordie.”

He turned and walked back along the pier, carrying the empty urn. The last vestiges of George’s earthly body were gone, and now Milton was truly alone.
 
 
 
 

As he retreated down the pier, he was unaware of the fate of the ashes. Some had caught a downdraft and been blown into the water, while others truly were scattered to the wind to be carried perhaps for miles and settle wherever they would. But the vast majority hovered in the air, coalescing into an amorphous mass that moved and swirled randomly until a form gradually took shape.

It was a human form that hung there just above the wooden pier. It began moving along 20 paces behind Milton as he made his way back to the beachfront, where he would cross the sand to the parking lot and to his car.

Milton stepped off the pier and onto the sand and began the trek to his car when, from behind, he heard a voice say, “Wait for me, Milton.”

He froze in place. That was George’s voice! Did he imagine it? Was this some trick of his subconscious that was unwilling to leave George behind? He decided that’s what it must have been and resumed his walk back to the parking lot. A few seconds later, he heard it again.

 “Milton, please wait.” The voice sounded so real! A little subdued maybe—not the clear, confident, perhaps overconfident voice of his brother—but certainly close enough.

Milton slowly turned around, and what he saw startled him to the very core of his soul. It was George, or an approximation of him anyway. He wasn’t in a wheelchair, though, but standing on two legs. The semi-transparent apparition he was staring at was a ghost.

Milton was speechless and stood there with his mouth hanging open. He blinked a few times and rubbed his eyes, but the ghost was still there. He closed his eyes and shook his head, but when he opened them again, the ghost hadn’t moved. “Geordie?” he ventured.

“Yes, it’s me, Milton. Surprised, are you? Well, that’s to be expected. Look, Milton, I’ve come back because I have some unfinished business here, but first, I want you to know that I hold you blameless in my death. Just because you’re not very strong doesn’t make it your fault. The real blame goes to the witch who runs the HOA and had the ramp removed. But never mind that now. I’ve been sent on a mission, and that’s what I’ll focus on.”

“Sent on a mission? By whom?”

“Ah, now that would be telling. One day you’ll find out for yourself. Why don’t we head back to your car and return home?”

Milton remained rooted to the spot for a few more seconds, attempting to make sense of this new situation. Then he turned around and resumed his march toward his car, the ghost of George falling in beside him. On the way, they passed several people heading for the pier, but no one gave them a second look.

“Geordie, can anyone else see or hear you besides me?”

“I believe it’s only you, Milton. I’m not an expert in spiritual matters yet, so I don’t honestly know, but it would appear to be you alone.”

While they returned to the car, Milton noticed that George’s legs weren’t moving as they would when walking. He just floated along. When they approached the car, Milton used his fob to unlock the doors, but before getting in, he asked, “Do you need me to open the door for you, or can you manage to open it? Can you make things move?”

“In general, no, but in a pinch, maybe. But there’s no need. Just watch,” and George floated through the closed passenger side door and appeared sitting on the seat inside. Milton opened his own door and got in behind the wheel.

“I’m having a little trouble believing all this, Geordie. Am I just imagining you?”

“I assure you, you’re not. I’m not a figment of your imagination, Milton. You’ve never had much of one at any rate. You’ve always lived in a world of numbers and orderliness. You’re an accountant, a straight-arrow, who reads instruction manuals and always walks on sidewalks instead of cutting across the grass and who never jaywalks. You’re a rule-follower, Milton. There’s no room for an imagination in your orderly mind. I’m not knocking it, mind you. But you know what? Sometimes the rules are rigged, and sometimes people operate without any rules and will run all over you if you let them. It may end up taking a little imagination to figure out how to stop them.”

“So that’s why you’re here, Geordie?”

“We’ll see.”

Author Notes
CHARACTERS



Milton Frobish: A meek 41-year-old accountant, who moves into an HOA with his brother, George.

George Frobish (Geordie): The 44-year-old invalid brother of Milton.

Esme Green (pronounced Ez-may): Milton's next-door neighbor. She is 75.

Arnold Zimmerman: The detective investigating the accident on the steps.

Dorothy Clodfelter: The president of the Riverwood HOA.

Picture courtesy of Imagen-3


Chapter 5
Milton vs the HOA - Chapter 5

By Jim Wile

Recap of Chapter 4: At a beach on Lake Michigan where his family used to enjoy visiting, Milton spreads George’s ashes. He says goodbye as he flings the urn to release the ashes into the air, then leaves the dock he’d been standing on. Unbeknownst to him, most of the ashes coalesce into a human form that follows him. It turns out to be the ghost of George, who has returned to fulfill a mission, the details of which are unclear to him at this point.
 
Milton is startled but becomes convinced George is real. George suggests a possible reason for his return by hinting to Milton that rules have been broken, which may require some imaginative solutions.
 
 
Chapter 5
 
 
As they made the hour-long drive back to Elkhart, Milton kept sneaking peeks at his brother’s ghost.

“Yes, I’m still here, Milton. You’re not dreaming; take my word for it.”

“What’s it like, Geordie? Where did you go when the life passed from your body?”

“It’s hard to describe. I wandered until I came to a fork in a road, and I stood there for a long, uncertain time without any clue which branch to take. But it seemed like someone had already made the decision for me because, without making any clear choice, I found myself traveling down one of them. I came to an iron gate, but it was locked. Then, I either heard or somehow sensed a voice that told me I wasn’t ready to enter yet—that I had a job still to do.”

“Can you at least tell me what the job is?”

“I’m not all that clear about it myself. I guess we’ll figure it out together, but I think a good start will be to talk to your new friend, Esme. She may be able to help us.”

“So, you know about her?”

“Before I began wandering, I watched her with you, Milton. She seems like a very caring sort who you’ll be able to rely on. She may be able to introduce you to others who will also be willing to help. I warn you, though: Mum’s the word about me. You don’t want people to think you’re nuts. I have a feeling you’re going to need to make a very positive impression on folks in the future, and you don’t want to jinx it from the start.”

“It sounds like you know more about your mission than you let on, Geordie.”

“They’re only feelings at this point. I think we’re going to have to play most of it by ear.”

They were silent for a while as Milton pondered this strange new occurrence in his life. He was not one who thought much about spiritual matters. He and George hadn’t been raised with religion, and his mind relied solely on sensory experiences. He had feelings and emotions, of course, as evidenced by the sadness he felt in the immediate aftermath of the accident, but his thoughts and actions were guided more by logic than emotion.

As he thought more about this as yet inexplicable turn in his life, a few practical questions occurred to him. “Geordie, what do you require as regards living arrangements? Do you still need your bedroom with a bed to sleep in? I was thinking of selling or donating the bed eventually. Your clothes too.”

“My living arrangements? Don’t forget that I’m dead, so my requirements are quite different now. I don’t need a bed since I no longer sleep. Nor do I eat, get dressed, shower, or use the toilet anymore. I don’t need my bedroom because I’m nowhere and everywhere at the same time. It’s difficult to describe.”

“Will your presence be manifested at all times? I really prefer to be alone most of the time.”

“I’ll be there when you need me, Milton. At times, I may come to you out of the blue, but that will be when I sense you could use some guidance. You’ll have your privacy when you want it, and if you wish me to leave, I’ll leave.”

“Will you always be visible to me when you’re around?”

“Would you like me to be?”

“Yes, I think so. This will take some getting used to, and it will seem more real if I can see you.”

“Fair enough. Anything else you’d like to know before I leave?”

“How will I summon you if I need you?”

“Just talk to me. In your mind; no need to speak the words out loud. Whenever we talk, just use your mind.”

“One last thing. This isn’t some elaborate trick you’re playing on me, is it? You weren’t always very kind to me when you were alive, you know.”

“I can see why you might think that, Milton, but no: no trick. Now, if that’s everything, we’ll talk again soon. Goodbye for now.”

When Milton turned to say goodbye, the seat beside him was empty. “Goodbye, Geordie.”
 
 
 

Milton arrived back at his house at 2:00 PM. It was a Saturday, which explains why he wasn’t at work. He worked for a large recreational vehicle manufacturer as a senior accountant. He was quite competent at his job.

He parked in his garage and headed into the house. It was well past lunchtime, and he was starving. He was about to fix himself a sandwich when the front doorbell rang, and he went to answer it.

It was Esme, holding a lemon meringue pie in her hands. “I just saw you return, Milton, and I thought you might want a little company after such an event.” Milton had told her yesterday where he would be going and why.

“Come in, please, Esme. How thoughtful of you to bring a pie. That looks delicious.”

They retreated to the kitchen, where Milton showed Esme to the table and took the pie from her. “Would you like some tea to go with a slice of pie?” he asked her.

“That would be nice.”

Milton put on a teakettle and cut two slices—a large one for Esme and a small one for himself. They sat down to eat the pie while the teakettle heated.

“How did it go, Milton? I imagine it was very sad for you.”

“It was… it was… interesting. Not at all what I imagined. In fact, quite remarkable really.”

“Oh, how so?”

“I didn’t expect to feel the way I did. I said goodbye to him, yet he is still with me.”

“Memories can be like that. Treasure the good ones and let the bad ones fade from your mind.”

“That’s good advice. I wish I could let the whole incident with the HOA fade from my mind as well, but I don’t think I can ever forget or forgive Dorothy Clodfelter for ordering that ramp removed. Out of curiosity, I looked into the matter from a legal standpoint, and I believe the HOA violated state law by having it removed. The HOA can impose standards on it, but I don’t believe she gave me sufficient time to rectify the situation.

“As I’ve said, though, I don’t plan to sue and penalize all the members for this, and suing her would be pointless, for surely she is indemnified under the HOA’s insurance policy. It wouldn’t bring George back at any rate. But it just irks me. And to add further insult to injury, she fined me $100 for keeping the ramp there without sending a request to the Architectural Review Committee with plans for a replacement. This HOA business is new to me, and I’m not fully acquainted with the procedures yet.”

“That doesn’t surprise me a bit. You wouldn’t be the first to be fined for some violation or other that no one knows about.”

“There must be a set of rules written down somewhere, musn’t there?”

“You’d think there would be, but I’ve never seen it.”

“Hmm, you’ve just inspired me to do some research about this, Esme. I’m going to look into the governing documents of an HOA.”

“While you’re at it, since you’re an accountant, it might be worthwhile to look into the books too. Every year the dues go up, and the level of service goes down. I don’t know where all that money they collect goes.”

“For everything that you’ve done for me, I would be happy to look into the books.” He got up, fetched the teakettle, and poured Esme and himself a cup of tea while thinking about this. “Do they publish some kind of budget?”

“I’ve never seen one,” said Esme.

“Then it sounds to me like we may have a case of the fox guarding the henhouse.”
 

Author Notes
CHARACTERS



Milton Frobish: A meek 41-year-old accountant, who moves into an HOA with his brother, George.

George Frobish (Geordie): The 44-year-old invalid brother of Milton. After his death, George becomes a ghost that only Milton can see.

Esme Green (pronounced Ez-may): Milton's next-door neighbor. She is 75.

Arnold Zimmerman: The detective investigating the accident on the steps.

Dorothy Clodfelter: The president of the Riverwood HOA.

Picture courtesy of Imagen-3


Chapter 6
Milton vs the HOA - Chapter 6

By Jim Wile

Recap of Chapter 5: As Milton and the ghost of George are driving home, they discuss what it was like for George after he died. Apparently, he has been sent on a mission, but it’s uncertain exactly what it is, or at least George doesn’t tell Milton what it is. They will be able to communicate without words but just through thoughts.
 
Later that day, Esme comes over bearing a pie, which she and Milton share. Milton doesn’t let on about George, but he and Esme discuss the HOA and how the Board seems to be operating without rules. Milton vows to Esme that he will try to get ahold of the rules and will also begin looking into the HOA’s finances.
 
 
 
Chapter 6
 
 
That evening, Milton began his research into the laws concerning HOAs in Indiana. He learned that his HOA was classified as a non-profit corporation, and the rules for its governance would be defined in several legal documents, the main one being the Declaration of Covenants, Conditions & Restrictions, known as the CCRs. This document was the Bible as far as the HOA was concerned and he needed to acquire it to answer his many questions.

He would have to ask Dorothy Clodfelter for a copy, but he was hesitant. What if she refused his request? What could he do then? What would George do? Then he remembered that he could ask George—unless that whole episode earlier had been a complete figment of his imagination. But then, George had said he had no imagination, so perhaps it was real. Milton decided to give it a try.

“Geordie?”

“Yes, Milton,” and at the same time, a semi-transparent George appeared in front of him.

“It’s really true then.”

“Of course, but remember, you don’t need to speak words to summon or talk with me; you can just think them.”

“That will take some getting used to.”

“Give it a try now, Milton. Ask me whatever you’d like, but just think it.”
 
 
Hello again. Now that we know George is a ghost and Milton will be communicating with him—though perhaps communing with him is a better word for it—we need to discuss how Jim Wile will represent it.

He’s decided the best way to distinguish their thought-speech is through different colors, in particular Magenta for Milton and Green for George? He won’t even use quotation marks since this is intended solely for silent communication between them.
 
 
Okay, Geordie. Here goes. I need to possess a copy of the CCRs but I don’t know the best way to go about it. I’m sure Dorothy Clodfelter must have it on file, though.

Why don’t you just ask her for a copy of it?

I’m afraid of that woman. What if she refuses to give me one?

You can’t be afraid of people all your life, Milton. If she says no, we can rethink what to do.

I have her email from the fine she sent me. Could I just send her an email requesting it?

It might be more successful and quicker if you were to call her.

I’m afraid to talk to her, though. Maybe I’ll just start with an email.

Suit yourself, but I think you’ll be wasting your time. She probably won’t respond, and when you eventually give her a call, which she may also duck, she’ll deny she got such an email.

I still think I’ll try it first. I’ll let you know how it goes.

Goodbye for now, Milton.

I’ll talk to you later, Geordie.

Incredible! That really worked. There would be no more doubting if what happened earlier today was real. Now it was time to get going on that email to the president.
 
 
    Dear Mrs. Clodfelter,

    I would like to have a copy of the Declaration of Covenants,
    Conditions & Restrictions for the Riverwood HOA. Is this
    something you would be able to provide me?

    Sincerely yours,
    Milton Frobish
 
 
Milton requested his email client to include a read receipt to enable him to tell if she received and opened it.

The next day he discovered that she had indeed received and opened the email, but in three days’ time, he had not heard from her. George had been right after all, and it was now necessary to try another way.

I should have listened to you, Geordie, and called her. I guess I should do that now.

You can do it, Milton. I’ll be right here if you need me.

I’m not accustomed to this kinder you. Aside from being a ghost, you’re different now. In the old days, you would have rubbed it in that you were right and I was wrong. You would have shaken your head and called me a nimrod. I’m sorry to say it, but I like you better now that you’re dead.

Don’t be sorry, Milton. You’re absolutely right about me being different now. There are certain rules for this—my own Declaration of Covenants, Conditions & Restrictions, so to speak.

Milton dialed her number. It rang eight times before going to voicemail, where he left a message to please call him.

He tried again the next day and the next and received no responses to any of his calls.

Now what, Geordie?

I think you know what you must do: You’ve got to visit her in person.

I really don’t want to do that.

I’m well aware of that, but you’ve got to begin growing a backbone. I have a feeling you’re going to need it in the days to come.

I suppose you’re right.

No time like the present. Let’s get cracking. Hip-hip!

Milton could no longer put it off, and, knowing George would be with him to back him up, albeit silently, he forced himself to walk down the street to Dorothy Clodfelter’s house. It was 8:00 PM.

He rang her doorbell, which was one of those doorbell cameras with an attached speaker. His heart was pounding, and his throat was dry. He tried to work up a little saliva, but it was fruitless. After 20 seconds, he almost turned around to leave, but he’d come this far. Might as well wait a little longer.

After a full minute, he tried the doorbell again and waited another minute. Nothing. He quickly hurried away with some measure of relief.

What now, Geordie?

You’ll have to try again tomorrow. I happen to know she walks her dog—a yappy little thing, who seems able to sense my presence—right around 7:00 each evening. Why don’t you confront her on her walk?
 
 
 

The next evening, beginning at 6:45, Milton stood looking out a front window, watching for Dorothy Clodfelter and her dog. By 7:10, he was just about to give up, again with some measure of relief, when he spotted her coming around a corner. She would be passing by his house momentarily.

Milton’s heart began pounding, but he was determined to finally talk to her.

There she is. I’m heading out now, Geordie.

That’s the ticket, Milton. I’ll be right beside you.

Milton exited the front door and walked to the street, where he met the tall, broad-shouldered woman with a semi-permanent sneer marking her countenance as she passed by with her brown and white Shih Tzu. The dog began yapping and growling immediately.

“Mrs. Clodfelter,” said Milton as she stopped walking when her dog refused to follow on his leash. He was really barking now, and Dorothy yanked on the leash and said, “Hush now, Ridley.” The dog stopped barking but continued to growl and bare his fangs. He appeared to be staring right at George’s apparition, which stood directly beside Milton. “Ridley, be quiet!” Dorothy snapped at the dog whose growl lowered in volume but was still issuing from the little animal.

“What is it, Mr. Frobish?”

“I’ve been trying to contact you for some time now. I sent you an email that I didn’t get a response to. Then I—”

“I didn’t receive any emails from you.”

“Yes, well, then I tried calling you and left three separate voicemail messages for you, and—”

“My voicemail has been acting up lately, and I’ve been losing them. What do you want?” she said, with an edge to her voice.

Milton was cowed by this rude woman who kept interrupting him. He was a slow talker who was precise in his speech and was often interrupted by people. His hands were shaking, and his mouth was dry. He needed a few seconds to let his heart slow and to formulate his words.

C’mon, Milton. Speed it up now.

“Don’t rush me, Geordie. I’m doing the best I can.”

Dorothy Clodfelter looked at Milton strangely. “What did you say?”

Milton realized his mistake then, for in his frustration, he forgot to think that last statement to George. He was embarrassed and momentarily speechless.

After a few seconds when he had been unable to answer, she began marching off, and he could hear her mutter, “Weirdo.”

Don’t let her get away without asking her, Milton. It’s now or never.

“Excuse me, Mrs. Clodfelter.”

She stopped and turned around, frowning. “What is it, Mr. Frobish?” she snapped.

“Might you supply me with a copy of the Declaration of Covenants, Conditions & Restrictions for the HOA?”

“The what?”

“I believe they’re called the CCRs for short.”

“And what makes you think I have them?”

“Well, shouldn’t someone on the Board have them? After all, they spell out the rules by which the HOA is to operate.”

“I only have what was passed on to me by the former president of the Board, 15 years ago, and there was no such document to my knowledge. We have been operating just fine without it, Mr. Frobish.”

Ridley began barking and growling again. “Shut up, Ridley!” shouted Dorothy Clodfelter as she yanked hard on his leash. She was getting flummoxed. “By the way, you still owe us that $100 fine for failure to submit your request for a ramp in time. I expect that to be paid promptly.”

Tell her she can shove that fine up her ass, Milton!

“I shan’t be paying that fine, Mrs. Clodfelter. My brother is d—"

“Then you can expect an additional one to be added to it. Goodbye, Mr. Frobish!” She turned away and began striding toward her house. Ridley gave one last bark and followed her.

Author Notes
CHARACTERS



Milton Frobish: A meek 41-year-old accountant, who moves into an HOA with his brother, George.

George Frobish (Geordie): The 44-year-old invalid brother of Milton. After his death, George becomes a ghost that only Milton can see.

Esme Green (pronounced Ez-may): Milton's next-door neighbor. She is 75.

Arnold Zimmerman: The detective investigating the accident on the steps.

Dorothy Clodfelter: The president of the Riverwood HOA.

Picture courtesy of Imagen-3


Chapter 7
Milton vs the HOA - Chapter 7

By Jim Wile

Recap of Chapter 6: Milton begins researching his HOA and decides he needs to get hold of the governing documents. He figures Dorothy Clodfelter would be the source for these, but he is afraid of her. He enlists the ghostly George’s help, and after failed attempts to get in touch with her through email and phone calls, he finally meets her face-to-face while she’s walking her dog.
 
This meeting does not go well, and Milton is thoroughly cowed by the intimidating HOA president who is convinced Milton is a weirdo. Before she leaves him, Dorothy Clodfelter threatens to give him another fine.
 
 
 
Chapter 7
 
 
Well, that was a complete bust, Geordie. Do you think she really doesn’t know what the CCRs are?

She was lying about everything. I’m positive she has a copy, just as I’m positive she got your voicemails, and you know for a fact she got your emails.

And the gall of the woman to threaten me with another fine. I am acrimonious!

That’s the spirit, Milton. That’s what it’s going to take to set things right around this neighborhood. I think you’re going to have to lead the effort, though. You can’t just be a bystander now. This neighborhood has gotten complacent. It needs rousing up from what your friend Esme has told you.

But I’m no leader. How would I ever stand up to that woman, even if I were in possession of the facts?

Why don’t you gather the facts first, and then you may wish to rethink your position? No need for any snap decisions now. Just take your time.

Yes, that’s good advice. Incidentally, I saw what you meant about that dog sensing you.

Oh, yeah. I got right down face-to-face with him and snarled right back at him, the little shit… Tzu. Kind of fun, that was.

Milton chuckled.

I can see you haven’t changed in all respects, Geordie.
 
 
 

Determined to acquire the CCRs, Milton conducted further research that revealed they would be stored at the Elkhart County Recorder’s Office. If he had only known that earlier, he could have saved time and the frustration of confronting Dorothy Clodfelter. He simply hadn’t thought of it. He navigated to their website, where he downloaded an electronic copy, as well as a copy of the Bylaws, for a modest fee. He spent the rest of the evening reading these two documents and making notes.
 
 
 

After work the following day, he called Esme and asked her if he could come over to discuss some of his findings.

“Why don’t you plan on staying for dinner, Milton? I have chicken and dumplings in a Dutch oven cooking on the stove right now.”

Since Milton’s dinner plans had only included opening a can of sardines, he didn’t hesitate to say, “Thank you, Esme. That’s very kind of you. I will be there shortly.”

Milton made printed copies of the CCRs and the Bylaws for himself and for Esme before heading to her house. When he arrived, she led him into the kitchen where the aroma of the meal made his mouth water and his stomach rumble. “That smells divine, Esme.”

“I hope you’ll enjoy it, dear. I’ll serve it up soon. So, you said you made some interesting findings in your research?”

“Indeed, I did. I found out, for example, that the Board of Directors is supposed to hold an annual meeting of the membership to ratify the budget and to hold an election of the Board members for a two-year term. When is the last time Riverwood held such a meeting?”

“Oh, dear. They canceled the annual meetings during the Covid years, and they just never started them up again, so it’s been at least five years now since our last one.”

“And from what you told me the other day, there’s been no member approval of a budget either? How about an election of Board members?”

“This Board has served for the past 15 years or more. I think they stopped holding elections long ago. They claim nobody else wants a job on the Board, but they never give anyone a chance to run.”

“One other thing, Esme: The CCRs mention a reserve fund for long-term capital expenses. Do you know what they are and if there is such a fund?”

“I suppose they would have to include the large brick wall that fronts the entry to the neighborhood, the road, which is a private road owned by the HOA, and the infamous community swimming pool, which is more like a private pool for Dorothy Clodfelter.”

“The neighborhood has a swimming pool? I never noticed it. Where is it?”

“It’s on common ground right next to the Clodfelter residence behind a tall brick wall—a requirement for safety, claims Dorothy—but what it does is walls it off from the neighborhood. Also, the few times anyone has tried to sit around or swim in the pool, that nasty little dog of hers sits on her screened porch and barks the whole time, utterly destroying the atmosphere. Of course, Dorothy herself is out there by the pool every day during the summer, but no one else, with the possible exception of the vice president, Penny Smalls, ever swims in it. And Milton, did you see the announcement sent out just today about a special assessment for a new pool liner and to do maintenance on the surrounding wall? We’re all to pony up $1,000 for this. I hardly think that’s right in view of the fact that almost no one uses the pool.”

“Aside from the fact that it isn’t worth it to the community, you’d still think it would be paid for from the reserve fund,” said Milton. “I don’t suppose you know how much is in the reserve fund?”

“I doubt we even have one anymore, or else why would we need special assessments all the time for this and that on top of the monthly dues?”

“What are they for, these special assessments?”

“Mostly for road repairs. It’s $500 here, $1,000 there, several times a year. They’ll get a pothole or two fixed now and then, but nothing that would seem to justify the size of the assessments they collect. And now this ridiculous $1,000 for pool maintenance!”

“Could we talk for a minute about the monthly dues? What exactly do they pay for?”

“We pay to have the grass mown once a week. We pay for the electricity for the eight street lights. There are a few other small things like pool supplies and insurance for the common areas, but nothing that would seem to justify $300 a month in dues. And every year, it goes up another five percent automatically. Many of us in the neighborhood are elderly and on fixed incomes, and the dues are killing us. Some have had to sell and move out.”

“That does seem exorbitant. Let me ask you: Aside from the president and vice president, isn’t there another Board member?”

“Yes, it’s Betty Kleinsmith who is the treasurer. She’s the only decent member of the Board, but she’s been suffering from dementia for some time. She’s a sweet old soul, though.”

“Perhaps we could pay Betty a visit this Saturday. I would dearly love to take a look at the financial records of the HOA. She’s required to produce a monthly financial statement, which any member should be able to see upon request. Do you happen to know if she does this?”

“I doubt very much she would be capable of that anymore, the poor soul.”

“Still, she must have some sort of records. Would you go with me and introduce me to her, and let’s see what we can find out on Saturday?”

“I would be happy to. At last, we’ve got someone who’s interested in looking into things. You’re a godsend, Milton, and now I think it’s time for dinner.”

Author Notes
CHARACTERS



Milton Frobish: A meek 41-year-old accountant, who moves into an HOA with his brother, George.

George Frobish (Geordie): The 44-year-old invalid brother of Milton. After his death, George becomes a ghost that only Milton can see.

Esme Green (pronounced Ez-may): Milton's next-door neighbor. She is 75.

Dorothy Clodfelter: The president of the Riverwood HOA.

Picture courtesy of Imagen-3


Chapter 8
Milton vs the HOA - Chapter 8

By Jim Wile

Recap of Chapter 7: Having been rebuffed by Dorothy Clodfelter in his attempts to get a copy of the CCRs, Milton discovers that he can get an electronic copy from the county recorder’s office. He downloads one and begins reading it. He discovers a number of infractions the current Board is guilty of and discusses this with Esme. She also schools him on financial matters in the neighborhood, painting a suspicious picture of misappropriation of funds. Together they decide to visit Betty Kleinsmith, the senile treasurer on the Board, to figure out what’s happening to the money.
 
 
 
Chapter 8
 
 
On Friday night, Milton got a call from Esme.

“I called Betty Kleinsmith this evening, Milton, and I told her I would like to come visit her tomorrow morning and that I wanted to introduce her to a nice young man who recently moved into the neighborhood. She said she would be delighted to meet you. Why don’t we walk over to her house together tomorrow morning at 9:00?”

“That would be splendid, Esme. Did you tell her why we wanted to see her?”

“No. We’ll let that come up naturally in the conversation. Betty has quite a sweet tooth, so I will bring a coffee cake with me. We’ll enjoy some cake and conversation, and I’ll gently steer it around to the HOA and what she does for it. Don’t be too hard on her, though, Milton. If the books are a mess, I would almost bet that that’s the way Dorothy Clodfelter prefers it. She will have a scapegoat in Betty if she’s ever called on it. Betty will have done her best, but, as I’ve said, she’s losing it.”

“I promise to be as polite and grateful to her as I can.”

“I have no doubt you will, Milton.”
 
 
 

It was a beautiful morning in early June when Milton and Esme set out together to meet Betty Kleinsmith. When they arrived at her house, they found her on her hands and knees planting flowers by her front walk. A youngish woman was sitting beside her, removing the flowers from their plastic trays for Betty to plant.

“Good morning, Betty. How nice to see you this lovely spring morning. What are you planting?” asked Esme.

“Well, hello, Esme. Haven’t talked to you in ages. It’s so nice to see you again. These are dahlias, my favorites.”

“Well, they’re lovely. Betty, this is Milton Frobish. He moved next door to me about a month ago.”

Betty had just removed her garden gloves, and Milton bent down to shake her hand since she was still kneeling. “It’s very nice to meet you, Mrs. Kleinsmith,” he said, extending his hand to hers.”

After a quick shake, she said, “It’s nice to meet you too, Merton. Help me up, dear.” Milton placed his left hand under her elbow and provided some extra lift. Even so, it was a major effort for Milton to try to raise her. Betty Kleinsmith was an unusually stout woman of 85. On Milton’s third try to hoist her up, Betty’s companion stood and gripped her other arm and helped Milton lift her to her feet.

“Thank you, dears.” She looked at Milton and Esme and said, “I’d like you both to meet my granddaughter, Rosemary.”

“Hello,” said Rosemary quietly. She was dressed in an old pair of baggy jeans and a raggedy, dirt-stained, overly large T-shirt. Her hair was atop her head in a tight bun, although a few strands had escaped and hung down her face, and she was wearing glasses. She was of medium height and possibly slender, but her clothes made it hard to tell. She had a pleasant face, though she kept her eyes downcast.

“Rosemary will be staying with me through the summer,” said Betty.

Esme said, “It’s wonderful to see you again, all grown up now, Rosemary. I can remember when you used to visit your grandmother when you were little. How nice of you to stay for an extended visit. I’m sure she will enjoy the company.”

“Hello,” said Milton.

Rosemary looked briefly up at him and then looked down again.

“She’s a bit on the shy side, but she’s a wonderful companion,” said Betty, causing Rosemary to blush.

“Betty,” said Esme, “it looks like you’ve about finished your flower planting. I’ve brought a coffee cake. Perhaps you’d like to take a break, and we could share a piece together?”

Betty leaned over and sniffed the still warm coffee cake. “Mmm, that smells divine. Why don’t we go inside and have some? Rosie dear, perhaps you could make us some tea to go with it?”

“Sure, Gram.”
 
 
 

When they were all comfortably ensconced in Betty’s living room with their tea and cake, Esme and Betty engaged in polite small talk for several minutes, while Milton and Rosemary sat and said little.

Eventually, Esme said, “Betty, I was sorry to see Cecille move out, but I’m happy Milton has moved in next door. He’s become a wonderful friend. Milton is an accountant, and he and I were talking the other day about the HOA dues and what they pay for, and, well… perhaps you’d like to speak for yourself, Milton.”

“Yes, Mrs. Kleinsmith, I was—”

“Call me Betty, please, Merton.”

“It’s Milton, ma’am. As I was going to say, Betty, I only moved in recently, and I didn’t think to research the financial condition of Riverwood before the move, so I have a few questions now, and I figured you would be in the best position to answer them as the treasurer.

“What would you like to know, dear?”

“Could you tell me what our biggest expenses are?”

“Well, that would be landscaping and road maintenance. We own the road, you know.”

“How do you keep track of the revenues and expenditures?”

“The what, dear?”

“The money coming in and the money going out.”

“Well, I keep track on a pad of paper whenever I receive a dues payment. Let me show you. Rosie, sweetie, could you fetch me that yellow pad there on the desk, please?”

When Rosemary handed her the pad, Betty invited Milton to sit beside her on the sofa so that she could show him her work that she was quite proud of.

“Down the side are all the names of the residents, and across the top are each of the months so that we have a nice grid. When I get a payment, I mark the amount in the correct box. You see, Morton, there’s your name right there, although it appears I’ve misspelled it. No matter; I’ll fix it later.”

“What are the asterisks by some of the names, Betty? I don’t see any numbers on those lines.”

“Those are the prepaids who paid it all upfront in January.”

“I see. Do you also keep track of the monthly statements from the bank where you presumably maintain a checking account?”

She hesitated then. “Now what was it Dorothy instructed me not to show anyone? Hmm, was it the bank statements? I don’t remember now, but I think maybe you should ask her about it.”

Don’t worry about it, Milton. I’ve got this handled.

What do you mean, Geordie?

I mean, I’m memorizing the pages of this notebook where she keeps the monthly bank statements. I’ll share it with you at home.

Milton glanced at the desk, and he could see an open notebook, and pages were slowly flipping over. He was surprised, and it registered on his face. The others turned to look at what he was staring at and were treated to the sight of the pages of an open notebook slowly turning over.

How are you doing that? I thought you couldn’t make things move?

Apparently, I was mistaken. I guess something as light as paper I’m able to move after all. There’s some fascinating information in these pages, Milton.

And you can memorize the pages, even while talking to me? How are you able to do that? You were never all that bright while alive, Geordie, I hate to say.

I don’t quite know how I’m doing it, but it’s as if I have a photographic memory now.

Betty said, “Rosie dear, do you suppose you could close that window there by the desk? Apparently, the breeze is quite strong.”

Rosemary hopped up from her chair to close the window.

Better finish up quickly, Geordie.

All done, Milton. Just in time.

“I will simply ask Dorothy about the bank statements some other time if I have any further questions,” said Milton. “Just one last item for you, Betty: Do you prepare a monthly financial statement for the Board and for the community if they wish to see it?”

“Well, I used to, but no one ever asked to see it, and Dorothy says she doesn’t need it, so I stopped some time ago.”

“Thank you, Betty. That’s all the questions I have. I appreciate your sharing with me. I’ve never lived in an HOA before, and I just wanted to know how it works.”

They chatted for a while longer with Esme and Betty doing most of the talking. Milton and Rosemary sat quietly, only speaking when asked a direct question and answering with as few words as possible. Each, however, would steal quick glances at the other. Twice, they caught one another looking and quickly looked away.

Soon it was time to go, and, following goodbyes and promises to keep in touch, Milton and Esme headed home. To Milton, it had proved to be a very interesting morning—in more ways than one.
 

Author Notes
CHARACTERS



Milton Frobish: A meek 41-year-old accountant, who moves into an HOA with his brother, George.

George Frobish (Geordie): The 44-year-old invalid brother of Milton. After his death, George becomes a ghost that only Milton can see.

Esme Green (pronounced Ez-may): Milton's next-door neighbor. She is 75.

Dorothy Clodfelter: The president of the Riverwood HOA.

Penny Smalls: The vice president of the Riverwood HOA.

Betty Kleinsmith: The treasurer of the Riverwood HOA.

Rosemary Kleinsmith (Rosie): Betty's adult granddaughter. She is 35.

Picture courtesy of Imagen-3



Chapter 9
Milton vs the HOA - Chapter 9

By Jim Wile

Recap of Chapter 8: Milton and Esme pay Betty Kleinsmith, the 85-year-old senile treasurer of the HOA, a visit. After some polite conversation with her and her 35-year-old granddaughter, Rosemary, who is visiting for the summer, Milton begins asking Betty some questions about the HOA’s finances.
 
Betty shows Milton a list of dues payments made by the members every month, but six of them are conspicuously absent. The ghostly George also begins looking through the bank statements and begins memorizing them. The rest see the pages of the notebook containing the statements flipping over but attribute it to a breeze blowing them. George communes with Milton that there is some very revealing information in those statements.
 
Milton and the equally shy Rosemary begin sneaking peeks at each other.
 
 
 
Chapter 9
 
 
“He was certainly a pleasant young man, that Melvin, wouldn’t you say, dear?”

“Yes, Gram. He was, but I’m pretty sure he said his name was Milton.”

“Milton, Merton, Mutton—no matter. He was very nice. When are you going to get back on the horse, dear? Don’t you think it’s about time?”

“I don’t know, Gram. I’m content the way things are for now.”

“I just hate to see one bad apple spoil everything for you, Rosie.”

“One bad apple? Gram, the man was a monster. I can’t tell you the hell he put me through. Sometimes I feel lucky to even be alive. I don’t know if I can ever trust again after that.”

“Just don’t give up trying, dearest. All men are not like that one. Just keep an open mind.”

“I’ll try. I think I’m going to shower now and then go to the church to practice for the services tomorrow. I’m still just getting used to that giant organ.”

“Would you mind if I come with you? I love to hear you play.”

“Sure, Gram.”
 
 
 

Walking home together, Esme said, “Don’t think I didn’t notice you and Rosemary eyeing each other.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” said Milton, beginning to blush.

“Oh, now, don’t be embarrassed. She’s a wonderful girl. She was once in a horrible marriage to a man who beat her up, but that was a few years back. If you don’t mind my asking, what’s your status with women, Milton? Do you have a girlfriend?”

“I have never had much luck with women. I get awfully nervous around them and tongue-tied. I would like to have a girlfriend, but no one has ever shown the slightest bit of interest in me.”

“Well, it appeared that Rosemary did today.”

“Maybe you’re just seeing things that aren’t really there.”

“You can deny it, if you want to, but I saw what I saw.”

“Speaking of seeing things,” said Milton, eager to change the subject, “what do you make of those asterisks by some of the homeowners’ names on Betty’s grid? Do you think they really prepaid the entire year’s dues?”

“I think it’s highly questionable. I noticed six names that were starred, with two belonging to Dorothy Clodfelter and Penny Smalls—the president and vice president. The other four happen to be good friends of theirs. They comprise a clique in the neighborhood. I think it’s a bit suspicious, personally.”

“If I can view the January bank statement, we ought to be able to tell if there were large deposits of cash ostensibly for those pre-payments.”

“That may be no easy task if it’s up to Dorothy Clodfelter,” lamented Esme.

“Maybe there’s another way.”
 
 
 

After Milton finished a bowl of clam chowder that he’d prepared for himself, it was time to test if George’s newfound photographic memory was reliable. He headed into his den and sat down at his desk.

Can you still remember everything you saw there, Geordie, in terms of those pages from the bank statement?

George instantly appeared to Milton and stood next to him. I’m pretty sure I can, Milton. Would you like to test out my memory first?

How will we do that?

Find me a page of text for me to memorize, and I’ll display it back to you.

Milton pulled one of his old college accounting textbooks from a bookshelf, turned to a page that discussed year-end closings, and held it out for George to peruse.

George studied the page for about two seconds, and Milton’s printer suddenly powered up and began printing it out. Milton pulled it from the printer and compared it to the textbook. It was an exact match.

That’s incredible! And you even sent it to the printer. Alright, I’m convinced. Do you think you could print out the January bank statement and perhaps the February one too?

Not a problem. Here goes.

The printer started up again, and two pages printed out. They looked like exact replicas of a bank statement, including the bank logo and all the boilerplate language in addition to the transactions for the month.
 
 
Now, you’ve got to admit that’s a pretty good trick George can do. No, not a trick exactly; that’s what magicians do. Tricks involve sleight of hand, misdirection, optical illusion, and other means of deception. What George does is equivalent to a fax machine, scanner, or copier: store an image and repeat it back later exactly as it was stored. Where exactly was it stored? Not for you to know at this point.

Suffice it to say, it’s a very useful power for an unseen presence to have. Unseen to all but Milton, that is.

 
Milton examined the pages from the printer. On the January bank statement, there were a number of smaller deposits of $300, corresponding to single-month dues payments, but he saw no deposits for $3,600, which would be a year’s worth of payments. There should have been six of those if the asterisks on Betty’s grid meant what she said they meant.

He tried looking at the February statement in case there was a delay in those large deposits, but again, nothing.

I don’t suppose you happened to peek at the December 2024 statement, did you, Geordie?

Credit me with a little initiative, Milton. Just in case, for some unknown reason, they paid early, I took the liberty of peeking at that one too. In fact, I looked at all of 2024. Here comes December’s statement now.

Milton reached for the page coming off the printer and scanned it quickly. No large transactions of $3,600.

Well, that’s one reason the dues seem exorbitantly high for the services performed: Apparently, only 36 of the 42 members are actually paying dues. They are subsidizing the six who are not. I have to share this with Esme.

What if she asks you how you came by this information? I presume you’ll show her the statements?

Yes, I’m sure she’ll want to see them. I suppose I could tell her I am fairly tech-savvy, and being an accountant, I’m privy to a number of techniques for retrieving data. It isn’t a lie, just not the answer to her question.

That's good. There’s nothing wrong with maintaining an aura of mystery about you. People have underestimated you all your life, present company included, but I think I sense an awakening in you, and it’s all for the good.

By the way, during 2024, I noticed a number of rather large deposits and withdrawals from the account, but I think these may require discussion with Esme to be able to make sense of them. Would you like me to print these for you as well?

Yes, please do.

The printer began spitting out more pages.

Now then, let’s talk a little bit about Miss Rosemary Kleinsmith.

Must we, Geordie?

I think we must. It was obvious to me you were quite attracted to her, and she to you.

Oh, I hardly think so. I to her: yes, but I’m sure you’re exaggerating her attraction to me. Was I being that obvious about it?

No, but I could tell. I could sense your pulse rate increase when you were sneaking peeks at each other. And that was even when she was dressed like a schlub in work clothes and sweaty from work. You aren’t that nattily dressed yourself, and yet, you both seemed able to see beyond that.

Don’t deny these feelings, Milton. I know you’ve been lonely. There is an aura of sadness and despair about Miss Kleinsmith. Maybe you would be good for each other. I think your friend, Esme, agrees with me. Don’t just dismiss it out of hand.

 
 

Later that afternoon, Milton was invited to afternoon tea, and he brought the copies of the bank statements with him.

“I don’t know how you were able to get your hands on these, Milton. You’re obviously a very clever man. I think these establish a clear case of wrongdoing on the part of the HOA Board. Imagine letting the rest of us subsidize the dues of Dorothy, Penny, and their friends!”

“But that might only be the tip of the iceberg. I have a number of questions for you concerning some of these other large deposits and withdrawals. Let’s start with all these $2,000 deposits in April and May of 2024. Could you tell me what these were for?”

Esme thought for a moment. “We were assessed an additional $2,000 each for road repairs after the winter.”

“That makes sense because there are exactly 36 of them. Most likely, those same six who don’t pay dues were also not assessed for the road repairs. And here’s a large withdrawal for $70,000 a month later, presumably for the repairs. Can you recall what was done for that amount of money?”

“All I can remember they did on the road was repair a few potholes with cold patch. Nothing that would warrant a $70,000 expenditure.”

“Do you happen to know the name of the vendor who did the pothole repairs?” asked Milton.

“Yes. The company that does all our road repairs is called Preston Solutions. Their name and logo are on the truck. Milton, I think it’s time we pay Dorothy Clodfelter a visit.”

Author Notes
CHARACTERS



Milton Frobish: A meek 41-year-old accountant, who moves into an HOA with his brother, George.

George Frobish (Geordie): The 44-year-old invalid brother of Milton. After his death, George becomes a ghost that only Milton can see.

Esme Green (pronounced Ez-may): Milton's next-door neighbor. She is 75.

Dorothy Clodfelter: The president of the Riverwood HOA.

Penny Smalls: The vice president of the Riverwood HOA.

Betty Kleinsmith: The treasurer of the Riverwood HOA.

Rosemary Kleinsmith (Rosie): Betty's adult granddaughter. She is 35.

Picture courtesy of Imagen-3


Chapter 10
Milton vs the HOA - Chapter 10

By Jim Wile

Recap of Chapter 9: Following the meeting with Betty Kleinsmith and her granddaughter, Rosemary, we learn of Rosemary’s abusive past history with her ex-husband. Esme elicits the fact from Milton that he would like to have a girlfriend but that he is extremely shy with women. Milton and Esme also discuss the fact that it looks like six of the residents in the neighborhood are not paying any dues, including the president and vice president.
 
George is able to recall the pages of the bank statements he memorized and sends them to Milton’s printer. George also advises Milton not to deny his feelings toward Rosemary. Esme and Milton discuss the bank statements and gather evidence against embezzlement by Dorothy. They make plans to visit her the next day.
 
 
 
Chapter 10
 
 
“We didn’t part on the best of terms the last time I saw her,” said Milton. “I’m afraid she would refuse to see us if I were to be present, although I have an idea about how to circumvent that.”

“What exactly should our goal be for this meeting?”

“I think this ‘meeting’ will take place at the front door, as I rather doubt she will invite us in. Let’s give her a list of requests: that she call an annual meeting of the HOA, that we hold elections for Board members, and that we vote to ratify a budget, which they will present to us in advance of the meeting. We haven't carried out any of these actions in the past five years, and the CCRs clearly state their requirements.”

“When do you think we should confront her with the suggestion of embezzlement?” Esme asked.

“I don’t think we have quite enough information yet to bring suit against her, but perhaps we could subtly let her know we harbor suspicions. The most important thing is to remove and replace the Board before they can do further damage. That has to be our first priority.”

“Milton, I’m very impressed with the thought you’ve put into this. You’ve only been here for a month, and yet you see the tyranny we’ve been living under. You’re just what this neighborhood needs, and I hope you’ll consider becoming a member of the Board and will be its president.”

Milton was not accustomed to such flattery and confidence in him. He fancied himself a good analyst, but a leader? He was a behind-the-scenes sort of person, and people made him nervous, especially the assertive kind like Dorothy Clodfelter. Could he even stand at her door and present her with a list of requests? And join the Board? Perhaps, but become its president—the chief executive of the whole neighborhood? The very thought made his skin crawl.

“I don’t quite know what to say, Esme. Why don’t we take it one step at a time, shall we?”

“Of course, Milton. I don’t mean to put undue pressure on you. Certainly, let’s see how this goes first.”

“Alright, when should we go over there?”

“Tomorrow is Sunday. How about tomorrow afternoon? Why don’t you come over for lunch at 1:00, and we’ll talk over what we’ll say.”

Milton stood to leave. “Thank you for the tea, Esme, and for the encouragement. I will be back here at 1:00 PM tomorrow.”
 
 
 

Milton did not sleep well. He tossed and turned through much of the night and could not seem to shake the feeling of dread at the imminent meeting with Dorothy Clodfelter. He hoped Esme would do most of the talking and that he wouldn’t have to say much, but such expectations did little to assuage his nervousness.

In the morning, he was too worked up to eat and merely fixed himself a cup of decaf coffee. He tried picking up a novel and reading, but his mind kept wandering to the fateful meeting.

Geordie, I don’t think I can go through with it. I’m not feeling very well.

What’s the thing that works best to settle you down, Milton?

Well, singing, I suppose.

Why don’t we sing together like we used to? I have the perfect song for the occasion: “High Hopes.”

Yes, that’s a good one. Alright, let’s give it a try.

Together, they began harmonizing:
 
 
    Just what makes that little old ant
    Think he'll move that rubber tree plant.
    Anyone knows an ant, can't
    Move a rubber tree plant.
 
    But he's got high hopes
    He's got high hopes
    He's got high apple pie
    In the sky hopes.
    So any time you’re gettin' low, ‘stead of lettin' go
    Just remember that ant.
    Oops there goes another rubber tree,
    Oops there goes another rubber tree,
    Oops there goes another rubber tree plant.
 
 
By the time they finished the remaining verses of that song plus many others, Milton was feeling better.

Thank you, Geordie. You’ve done wonders for my mood. I feel like I can face Dorothy Clodfelter now.

That’s the ticket, old boy. And remember, I’ll be right there with you if you need me.
 
 
 

Milton spent the rest of the morning in better spirits, but by 1:00, when it was time to head over to Esme’s house for lunch, his nerves began to return. He was barely able to get down a comforting meal of pea soup and a grilled cheese sandwich. He tried his best to make pleasant conversation with Esme, but his heart wasn’t in it.

“Milton, dear, I can sense your nervousness about this meeting,” said Esme. “We will simply ask her to abide by the rules in the CCRs and hold a meeting for the membership. I don’t see how she can refuse that. We can show it to her in black and white, since she claims not to possess her own copy. It should be straightforward.”

“Yes, it should be, but something tells me it won’t be.”

“Well, let’s just play it by ear and try to remain polite with her, but I’m sure I don’t need to tell you that.”

“I’ve always viewed politeness as a sine qua non of public discourse, but I find it to be a formidable challenge with her, Esme. I will do my best, though.”

“I know you will. Shall we go now?”

“I suppose we must. Thank you for this wonderful lunch. It was very tasty.” In truth, Milton could barely get it down, but he didn’t want to offend Esme, so he had forced himself to eat it. It now rumbled around precariously in his stomach as his nerves began to overwhelm him.

Armed with two copies of the CCRs, he and Esme headed toward Dorothy Clodfelter’s house. When they arrived at the front door, only Esme stood in view of the doorbell camera, while Milton stood to the side, sweating profusely.

Dorothy answered the door with a “Hello, Esme.”

“Hello, Dorothy.”

As Milton stepped into view, Dorothy’s dog, Ridley, scooted outside onto the front porch and began barking furiously, looking off to the right of Milton.

“What is it about you that drives my dog insane, Mr. Frobish?”

“Hello, Mrs. Clodfelter. I’m sure I don’t know,” he said, even though he could clearly see George’s apparition standing at his side.

“It never fails. Ridley! Get back in here now and keep quiet!” When the little dog disregarded her orders, she reached down, grabbed his collar, and yanked him back in. “Now hush!”

Dorothy Clodfelter stared at the pair standing at her door. Without inviting them in or pleasantries of any kind, she said, “What do you want?”

Esme began, “Dorothy, it has come to our attention that there are a few instances of, shall we say, a relaxation of the rules of the HOA lately. Milton here has made a few notes about this.”

Milton was momentarily speechless as he was suddenly thrust into the spotlight. He and Esme had not rehearsed exactly what they would say, as they probably should have, and he stood there for a few seconds with his mouth flapping open and closed like a fish out of water as he tried to begin.

You can do it, Milton. You know what you want to say. Just start talking, and it will come easier. Think of the ant moving that rubber tree plant. Just start.

“I’m waiting, Mr. Frobish.”

“Yes, um… I was able to obtain a copy of the CCRs from the county recorder’s office, and I even made one for you since you indicated you didn’t have one.” He held a copy out to her, but she simply stood there and refused to take it.

“Yes, well, it says in here that the Board needs to call an annual meeting of the membership to, among other things, ratify a budget and hold elections for Board members. It is my understanding that the Board has not held such a meeting for some years now.”

“That’s where your understanding is wrong, Mr. Frobish.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“I said, you’re wrong. We have held meetings, elections, and passed budgets.”

Esme looked puzzled. “I have been unaware of such instances, Dorothy.”

“That’s not my concern if you’ve neglected your duties as a member of this community, Esme.”

“But I haven’t—knowingly. I’ve had no knowledge of any meetings, nor has anyone else that I know of.”

“Mrs. Clodfelter,” said Milton, “did you provide written notice to the community 30 days prior to the meetings, as is stated in this document?”

“I most certainly did. The most recent meeting was last November. We posted flyers on telephone poles announcing it. It isn’t my fault if few people ever bothered to read them. Enough did so that we had a quorum, and we re-elected the present Board members and ratified the budget.”

“Uh… What is considered a quorum?”

“Ten percent of the membership. There were six of us at the meeting, which is more than enough to satisfy the quorum.”

Ask her how she knows all this if she’s never heard of the CCRs, Milton. And there’s that number six again. Awfully suspicious, don’t you think?

“If you don’t mind my asking, uh… how is it you know what is considered a quorum if, er, you’ve never heard of the CCRs? Furthermore, I wonder if, um… posting a flyer on a telephone pole constitutes a valid means of written notice to the community.”

Dorothy was momentarily taken aback by this affront to her honesty and integrity. She was suddenly very angry to be challenged like this. “Mr. Frobish. Are you implying that I’ve been disingenuous and devious?”

The imperious look on her face was enough to make Milton cringe. He was grossly intimidated by this woman, who clearly disliked him, and his heart began pounding as his mouth became parched. It had been all he could do to get the preceding words out. Now, he wasn’t sure he’d even be able to speak. Finally, he croaked out, “I’m merely uncertain about a few things.”

Ridley began barking again and retreated further into the house as if following someone. They all turned to watch him go. Even though he was now in another room, his constant barking and growling were enough to add considerable tension to an already tense moment.

“Shut the hell up, Ridley!” shouted Dorothy, who then turned her ire on poor Milton. “Mr. Frobish, I refuse to stand here any longer and listen to your accusations. Do you have anything else to say to me before I close the door on you?”

Milton’s nerves were at a fever pitch now, and he didn’t feel well. Esme’s lunch was churning in his stomach. He intended to convey to the woman that he meant no disrespect, but when he opened his mouth to speak, what came out instead of words was a stream of projectile vomit the color of pea soup. It shot into Dorothy Clodfelter’s face and all down the front of her clothes.

Milton was horrified. Dorothy was thunderstruck. Esme burst out laughing and tried to stifle it but failed miserably. And from the other room, Ridley continued his ferocious barking and growling.

Author Notes
CHARACTERS



Milton Frobish: A meek 41-year-old accountant, who moves into an HOA with his brother, George.

George Frobish (Geordie): The 44-year-old invalid brother of Milton. After his death, George becomes a ghost that only Milton can see.

Esme Green (pronounced Ez-may): Milton's next-door neighbor. She is 75.

Dorothy Clodfelter: The president of the Riverwood HOA.

Penny Smalls: The vice president of the Riverwood HOA.

Betty Kleinsmith: The treasurer of the Riverwood HOA.

Rosemary Kleinsmith (Rosie): Betty's adult granddaughter. She is 35.

Picture courtesy of Imagen-3




Chapter 11
Milton vs the HOA - Chapter 11

By Jim Wile

Recap of Chapter 10: Milton has lunch at Esme’s house prior to the meeting with Dorothy Clodfelter, where he and Esme will make her aware she is not following the rules in the CCRs. Milton is very nervous about the coming confrontation.
 
They arrive on Dorothy’s doorstep, and Milton points out that the HOA hasn’t held any meetings, passed any budgets, or held elections for Board members in several years. Dorothy refutes this, but it’s clear she has done all of this surreptitiously with only her cronies present. When Milton challenges the validity of her meeting announcements to the community, Dorothy verbally attacks him, making him so uneasy that he vomits all over her.
 
 
Chapter 11
 
 
While we may be cheering about what happened to Dorothy Clodfelter (Esme certainly is), we must think of the effect on poor Milton. He was raised by a prim and proper mother to be humble, polite, and gracious—not to vomit on people he finds disagreeable. What would she have thought about this rather severe breach of etiquette?

This will undoubtedly occupy Milton’s mind as he flees the scene and heads back to his house. Let’s see what George can do to assuage his brother’s humiliation and shame.
 
 
Milton?

Leave me alone, Geordie.

We need to talk about this.

There’s nothing to say. I blew it. I lost it there—in more ways than one. I let that woman walk all over me, and my only defense was a disgusting display of disrespect. What would Mum have thought of this?

You gave that woman exactly what she deserved. You did nothing wrong. Your only interest was to see that she follows the rules, and you were met with lies and obfuscations. If she held a meeting at all, it was with her cronies who stand to gain from her financial favors. She is operating above the law, and you were calling her out on it. You are obviously getting to her, Milton, and it’s time now to ratchet up the pressure, not retreat. I found out some very interesting information back in her den while you were debating her at the door.

What information?

Why don’t we wait until you get home, pour yourself a glass of brandy, and settle into your favorite chair? Then I’ll tell you. You’re going to love this, Milton.

You know I don’t drink, Geordie.

Just one small glass of brandy. It will help settle your nerves.

Maybe just this once, then.
 
 
 

At home, when Milton was comfortably ensconced in his recliner, taking small sips of brandy from a snifter, he finally began to relax. The warmth from the brandy spread from his head to his toes, and his accelerated heart rate slowed. He closed his eyes for a few minutes and just let the calm wash over him. He temporarily put aside the dreadful events of the afternoon and opened his mind to hearing what his brother had discovered.

I’m ready now, Geordie.

I’ll be there in a minute, Milton. I just need to print something out for you. Stay where you are. I should be able to bring a sheet of paper to you.

Milton heard the printer start up and a sheet print out in the den. George’s apparition exited the den and came toward him, carrying the sheet of paper.

Do you remember the name of the road repair company Esme told you about?

You mean Preston Solutions?

Exactly. Take a look at this page now.

Milton took the sheet from George and perused it. It was a blank invoice from Preston Solutions.

There was a whole stack of these blank invoices in a file folder in her den, Milton. Do you know what this means?

I think you’ve discovered her means of embezzlement! Most likely this is a shell corporation she set up to bilk the HOA into paying for phony road repairs. She probably has some magnetic signs saying Preston Solutions, and she hires someone to apply them to his pickup truck and show up in the neighborhood for an occasional fix to a pothole or something similar. Then she submits the invoice to Betty Kleinsmith, charging some outlandish fee, and the unsuspecting Betty writes a check for the amount. Dorothy undoubtedly promises to give it to the vendor and then deposits it into her own phony business bank account.

That sounds about right.

By cracky, Geordie, you’ve done it! This is the smoking gun we need to expose her. I can’t wait to tell Esme about this. I think I’ll give her a call right now.

What will you tell her when she asks you where you got this?

Hmm, I hate to dissemble. I’ll have to think about that. Thank you, Geordie. I sincerely appreciate what you’re doing to help. I feel much better about things now. I’m even willing to forgive myself for my faux pas this afternoon. I can honestly say she deserved that and more for what she’s doing to this neighborhood.

Right you are, Milton. That’s the spirit.

No, that’s the spirit, thought Milton as he pointed to George. He began laughing uproariously at his little joke, and George laughed along with him.
 
 
 

“Milton, you should have seen her face!” said Esme as he sat in her parlor while she regaled him with the aftermath of the debacle at Dorothy Clodfelter’s house. “She was so utterly grossed out by being the recipient of your partially digested lunch that she hurled her own. I think she’d had some sort of pasta. I don’t think I’ve laughed so hard in my lifetime.

“And then that repulsive little dog came from a back room and began slurping up the contents on the floor. I left then, but I will never be able to rid my mind of that scene.”

“I guess you could say you left her stewing in her own juices,” quipped Milton, and Esme burst out laughing again.

When she finally recovered herself, she said, “I know how hard that must have been for you, dear, to hear her talk to you like that, but you performed very well in spite of what you may think. You let her know that we are watching her, and it obviously struck a nerve. Now, what do you think our next step should be?”

Buoyed by Esme’s interpretation of the encounter, he was beginning to feel more confident. He said, “I think we need to operate on two fronts the way we discussed before. First, we need to get her and the other Board members removed and replaced. I’ve consulted the Bylaws that spell out the procedure for this. It requires a petition signed by at least 25% of the neighborhood to conduct a meeting for the express purpose of voting them out. We must submit it to the Board and tell them our intention. They are free to attend the meeting or not, but the results will be binding either way.

“Likely, they will contest these results and refuse to relinquish their duties, so at that time, we must get legal help to establish the new Board as the official Board of Directors of the HOA. If successful, we will replace them.”

“What’s the second order of business then?” asked Esme.

“That will be to report the suspected embezzlement to the sheriff’s department and present them with the evidence so far. Hopefully, this will elicit a search warrant to search the premises of the three likely co-conspirators for further evidence. Should they file charges, a criminal trial will ensue. If found guilty, the penalty is usually a jail sentence and restitution to the HOA.”

“You mentioned before that you thought we needed more evidence. Has some more come to your attention?”

“As a matter of fact, it has. A rather incriminating document was found on the premises of Dorothy Clodfelter yesterday. Let me show it to you.”

Milton removed the printed copy of the blank invoice from a folder he’d brought, and he handed it to Esme. “Do you see the name of the company?”

“Preston Solutions—the road repair company.”

“Correct,” and he proceeded to explain his theory of the scheme to embezzle money from the HOA.

“Milton, this is incredible. I don’t know how you do what you do, but it’s very impressive!”

“Thank you.”

“Oh, I would love to go after her for this right away, but I think you’re right; we must prevent her from doing any more damage first. I guess now we should create that petition and talk to the neighbors. It shouldn’t be difficult to get the required signatures. I think we’ll have to go door-to-door to explain it and get them to sign it, but that will be a wonderful opportunity for you to meet them, Milton. I know almost everyone, and I can introduce you.”

“Yes, I suppose that’s the best way. I’m glad we’ll do this together, Esme.”

“There’s one thing that bothers me, though, dear. I’m worried about poor Betty Kleinsmith. I don’t think she’s a part of the embezzlement scheme, except perhaps inadvertently. I believe her condition is being exploited by the other two Board members, and I would hate to see her hurt by all this. She isn’t even one of the six who escape paying dues and assessments. What would you think about speaking with her granddaughter, Rosemary, and explaining the situation to her?”

Milton’s pulse sped up slightly as he considered this question. He suddenly felt nervous, but it was a different sort of nervousness from the dread he had felt earlier today. It was more of a pleasant sort—one of anticipation, like you might experience waiting to get a test back that you thought you did well on in school.

“Yes, I’m in favor of that.”

“Then I’ll set it up and let you know when we will meet.”

“I look forward to it, Esme.”

Author Notes
CHARACTERS



Milton Frobish: A meek 41-year-old accountant, who moves into an HOA with his brother, George.

George Frobish (Geordie): The 44-year-old invalid brother of Milton. After his death, George becomes a ghost that only Milton can see.

Esme Green (pronounced Ez-may): Milton's next-door neighbor. She is 75.

Dorothy Clodfelter: The president of the Riverwood HOA.

Penny Smalls: The vice president of the Riverwood HOA.

Betty Kleinsmith: The treasurer of the Riverwood HOA.

Rosemary Kleinsmith (Rosie): Betty's adult granddaughter. She is 35.

Picture courtesy of Imagen-3


Chapter 12
Milton vs the HOA - Chapter 12

By Jim Wile

Recap of Chapter 11: Milton was humiliated by his performance at Dorothy’s house, and George tries to comfort him. At home, George reveals that he found some blank invoices for the road repair company, Preston Solutions, when he was snooping around Dorothy’s house. He prints one out for Milton, who figures out that this is a shell company Dorothy must have created to embezzle money from the HOA via phony road repairs.
 
Milton goes to Esme’s house to share this with her. He also tells her about the method spelled out in the Bylaws of how to remove Board members for malfeasance. They will need to circulate a petition to call a meeting to vote on expelling the current Board and elect a new Board. Esme is worried about Betty Kleinsmith, the senile treasurer who was being unknowingly used by Dorothy in her embezzlement scheme. Esme suggests talking to Rosemary about this, and Milton is excited by the prospect.
 
 
Chapter 12
 
 
Alright, now we’re getting to it—the event you’ve been waiting for: Milton and Rosemary’s first time alone together. Of course, it won’t start out that way, but Esme is a matchmaker extraordinaire, and she will perform her match-ic (get it?) on them. They will be helpless to resist. Of course, as you will see, each secretly harbors a desire for this outcome, so perhaps it was bound to happen eventually.
 
 
Esme first called Rosemary and invited her to come over the following evening, a Monday, and told her that she and Milton had something to discuss with her concerning her grandmother. She agreed to come at 7:00 PM.

Esme then called Milton with the same request. “Rosemary has accepted, dear, and will come tomorrow at 7:00. Can we expect you then too?”

“Yes, I’ll be there. Thank you for setting it up. I’ll begin working on a draft of the special meeting petition, which perhaps we could also discuss. I don’t mind Rosemary’s being privy to this, as, no doubt, she will be the one to explain the ramifications to her grandmother.”

“Very good then, Milton. I’ll see you at 7:00. I’ll serve cobbler with ice cream.”
 
 
 

After the call, Milton downloaded a template for the petition from his favorite AI bot and filled in the appropriate blanks with information from the Bylaws. In the petition, he stated all the major violations of the Board. He discounted the sham meetings, elections, and budgets Dorothy Clodfelter claimed to have had and listed these as clear violations of the rules. He mentioned the ever-increasing dues and assessments with nothing to show for them, and he hinted at fiscal malfeasance. It was a very persuasive document.

It had been a strange day, but Milton went to bed on a high note. Although he had suffered one of the most humiliating moments of his 41 years, he felt he now had the ammunition to exact a respectable retribution against this most egregious foe. But perhaps the best part of the day was the promise of seeing Miss Rosemary Kleinsmith again tomorrow. With that pleasant thought in mind, he slept soundly.
 
 
 

At 4:00 PM on Monday, Rosemary Kleinsmith began her preparations for the evening. She did not know exactly what this meeting was about, but she harbored some suspicions based on meeting Esme Green and Milton Frobish two days before. They’d had some rather pointed questions about the HOA’s finances, and Rosemary couldn’t help but worry that Gram was no longer up to the job of being the keeper of the books. The process was gradual, but Gram’s dementia was becoming more apparent with each passing day.

Rosemary would find Gram’s things in odd places, like her checkbook in the coat closet and her purse in the laundry room sink. Gram repeatedly asked the same questions and had trouble remembering if she’d taken her pills when she was supposed to. She would occasionally leave burners going on the stove.

Rosemary would be staying with her for the summer, but before she had to return to work as a middle school music teacher in the fall, she would have to help her Gram sell the house and arrange for her to enter an assisted living facility. She could no longer live alone, much less continue to be the treasurer of the HOA.

Rosemary was concerned about the meeting tonight, but Esme had assured her that she and her Gram had nothing to worry about. Still, there was that niggling feeling that something wasn’t right. She would just have to wait to find out.

Despite this uncertainty, she found herself looking forward to the meeting. There was no denying that she felt something for Milton Frobish. He was such a contrast to her ex-husband in looks, manner of speaking, personality, and temperament. He was not bad looking—perhaps a bit too thin—and certainly not a macho man the way her ex was. He seemed shy and reserved, but he spoke to her Gram with great patience and politeness in a direct and friendly manner. Despite being dirty and in her work clothes, she had caught him sneaking a few peeks at her, and she found it flattering.

Well, she would present herself in a much better light tonight. She spent most of the time until 6:45 getting ready, taking only a few minutes to prepare a turkey sandwich for herself and her Gram for dinner.

“My, don’t you look pretty! Do you have a date tonight, Rosie?” said Betty.

“Yes, Gram. I will be spending the evening with Milton Frobish. Do you remember him from Saturday? He came over to meet you with Esme Green.”

“No, I don’t think so, dear. Is he nice-looking?”

“I think so. He lives just up the street. I’ll be leaving in a few minutes.”

“That’s nice, dear. I hope you and… “

“Milton, Gram.”

“I hope you and Martin have a good time. I won’t wait up for you.”
 
 
 

Milton got home from work at 5:45. He was already beginning to get nervous about the upcoming meeting with Rosemary Kleinsmith tonight. He didn’t know exactly what he would say to her and planned to let Esme take the lead in this. He was confident they were doing the right thing with their petition, but he wondered how Rosemary would respond. This was her grandmother they were proposing to remove after all. It would have to be treated delicately and courteously.

He hoped Rosemary wouldn’t take it poorly and hold it against him because he realized he had feelings for her. He desired to get to know her better, although he was nervous about it. He was not adept at small talk, nor was he especially witty. He didn’t think most women were interested in the things he was interested in, and he was certainly no Brad Pitt or Hugh Jackman.

Well, he might as well put his best foot forward, but he wasn’t certain about his attire. After showering and shaving, he stood in his closet unable to decide how to dress for the meeting. He selected a pair of white slacks, his plaid sports coat, and a paisley tie. He donned these and looked at himself in his bedroom mirror, but he just wasn’t sure.

I could use a little help here, Geordie.

Yes, that’s clear, Milton. You’ll want to look well-dressed, but not too formal. Let’s lose the tie and jacket as well as the white pants while you’re at it. Let’s go for a more casual look. Hmm, not a lot to choose from here. I think you’ll need to expand your wardrobe in the future. For now, I suggest your khaki slacks with a white shirt and your light brown cardigan sweater. It will add some bulk. And shine your brown shoes too.

Milton began changing clothes.

Thanks, Geordie. I’m a little nervous about tonight.

You’ll do fine. Esme will be there too, so if the conversation lags, she will keep it going. I think she wants this to succeed as much as I do. You need to have a woman in your life who isn’t 75 years old. A partner, not a mother-substitute.

Maybe it will just be all business. I’m comfortable talking about that. But if I need you, you’ll be there, right?

Always. We’ll get you through this. Now, let me get a look at you.

What do you think?

As good as it gets, Milton. As good as it gets.

Author Notes
CHARACTERS



Milton Frobish: A meek 41-year-old accountant, who moves into an HOA with his brother, George.

George Frobish (Geordie): The 44-year-old invalid brother of Milton. After his death, George becomes a ghost that only Milton can see.

Esme Green (pronounced Ez-may): Milton's next-door neighbor. She is 75.

Dorothy Clodfelter: The president of the Riverwood HOA.

Penny Smalls: The vice president of the Riverwood HOA.

Betty Kleinsmith: The treasurer of the Riverwood HOA.

Rosemary Kleinsmith (Rosie): Betty's adult granddaughter. She is 35.

Picture courtesy of Imagen-3


Chapter 13
Milton vs the HOA - Chapter 13

By Jim Wile

Recap of Chapter 12: Esme arranges a meeting with Rosemary and Milton for the following day on the guise of preparing Rosemary to convince her grandmother, Betty, to resign as treasurer. But Esme’s real goal is to get Rosemary and Milton alone together.
 
Both Rosemary and Milton spend considerable time preparing for the “meeting.” Milton requires George’s help in selecting suitable clothes to wear. Milton also prepares a draft of the petition that will be used to get neighborhood support to oust the Board.
 
 
Chapter 13
 
 
Milton left his house at five minutes to 7:00. He did not cross the lawn to Esme’s house because the grass was slightly wet from the dew, so he used his front walk to the driveway, and as he was about to turn onto the sidewalk, Rosemary Kleinsmith came walking up right at that moment.

Milton was speechless. He wondered if this was the same woman whom he had met two days before while she was working in the garden. There was a vague resemblance, but he wasn’t certain. This woman had exquisitely brushed, long, chestnut-colored hair that hung to her shoulder blades. Gone were the glasses. She had on a tight-fitting, white ribbed shirt over which she wore an olive-green jacket. A pair of skinny jeans clung tightly to her slim legs.

Milton couldn’t help standing there with his mouth agape as she walked up to him.

“Hello, Milton,” she said, simply.

“Rosemary?”

“Yes, it’s me.”

“I almost didn’t recognize you.”

“One and the same.”

He continued to stare at her until it became awkward.

“Shall we head to Esme’s house?” she finally ventured.

“Yes.”

She started forward, but Milton was still rooted to the spot, watching her now from behind.

Get moving, Milton, or she’ll think you’re weird.

Geordie, she’s stunning. I didn’t expect this. Now I’m extra nervous.

She fixed herself up like that for you. Don’t blow it. Now get moving.

Milton felt a slight push from behind. He snapped out of his stupor and started forward, catching up to Rosemary.

Tell her how nice she looks.

“You look very nice tonight, Rosemary. Er, not that you didn’t look nice the other day, but… well… “

“Thank you.”

That’s all they managed to say as they made their way to Esme’s front door. Milton rang the bell, and they waited for Esme to answer. There was an uncomfortable silence for at least 20 seconds while they waited. Milton tried to think of something clever to say to fill the void, but nothing came to mind. As he was about to reach forward to ring the bell again, Esme finally opened the door.

“Welcome, Rosemary and Milton. Come in. Come in. My, don’t both of you look very attractive! Can I take your jacket, Rosemary?”

“I think I’ll keep it on. I tend to get cold easily.”

“That’s fine, dear. Why don’t we go and have a seat in the parlor? Would either of you like a cup of tea?”

Both declined. Esme showed them to a loveseat where they sat down together while she sat in an armchair facing them with a coffee table in between.

Esme began, “It was so nice seeing you again the other day, Rosemary. It’s been far too long.”

“Why don’t you both call me Rosie? That’s what Gram and most people call me.”

“Alright, Rosie,” continued Esme, “Milton and I enjoyed our visit with you and Betty and hearing her explain some of the workings of the HOA. Milton especially found it very instructive, didn’t you, dear?”

“Yes, I did, Rosema… er, Rosie. I’ve never lived in an HOA before, and I was unfamiliar with the financial commitment it would require. Being an accountant, I’m quite familiar with record keeping, bank statements, financial ledgers, and the like, and I sensed a certain lack of structure, if you will, in the financial records of the neighborhood. It’s difficult to know if the money collected is being well spent if we have no reports to review. Now, I’m sure your grandmother is taking her direction from the other Board members, and she’s doing her best, but I’m curious about her experience with—”

“Let me interrupt for a second. If you’re implying that my grandmother may not be up to the job—”

“Well, I didn’t mean to—”

“—then I couldn’t agree with you more, Milton. I believe it's no longer appropriate to entrust her with managing the HOA’s books, if it ever was. She used to own a dress shop and hired a bookkeeper to keep her books in order. I’m not sure how she was ever talked into this job five years ago, but she wasn’t equipped then, and especially not now, to continue in the position. That’s become abundantly clear to me the more time I spend with her. By the end of the summer, we’re planning on her moving into an assisted living facility and selling her house, so her term would have come to an end anyway. But I think I will talk her into resigning right away before she makes some costly mistake.”

Esme gave Milton and Rosie a sad smile and said, “I, for one, will be sorry to see her move from the neighborhood. We have known each other for a long time, and she’s very dear to me. We were among the earliest neighbors here when things were a lot more pleasant and affordable than they are now.”

Milton said, “I hope I didn’t offend you by mentioning it, Rosie. That wasn’t my intention, but I’m glad you view things the way you do.”

“It’s actually a relief to hear you feel the same—that the job belongs to someone else now.”

Esme said, “I would hate to see her get hurt by what may soon transpire. Perhaps you could explain to Rosie what we’ve been discussing, Milton?”

“Certainly. In the short time I’ve been here, I’ve noticed that the community is being kept in the dark by the Board, and this seems by design.”

Milton filled her in on many of his and Esme’s recent discoveries of the Board’s dereliction of duties. Then he showed both of them the petition he had written. He ended by saying, “We would very much like to avoid including your grandmother as one of the Board members to be replaced, Rosie. There are likely to be hard feelings, and we would want to spare her from those.”

“I appreciate that, Milton. I promise I will do what I can to persuade her to resign before it comes to that. When were you thinking of circulating your petition?”

Milton looked at Esme, who said, “We haven’t decided yet, dear. We will certainly be willing to wait until you’ve had a chance to talk to your Gram.”

“I’ll do it right away and let you know shortly.”

“Well, with that bit of unpleasantry out of the way,” said Esme, “I’ve made a blueberry cobbler. Would anyone like a dish of warm cobbler topped with ice cream?” She looked expectantly at each of them.

With the tension now broken, Milton said, “That sounds wonderful,” and Rosie agreed.

“Then I’ll just leave you for a bit while I go prepare it.”

When Esme bustled out of the room, silence descended over Milton and Rosie. With Esme present and a specific topic to discuss, the conversation flowed well, but left to their own devices, Milton and Rosie grew silent. They looked at each other briefly and looked down again.

Help me out here, Geordie. All of a sudden, I have nothing to say.

Don’t panic, Milton. Why don’t you ask her where she comes from and what she does for a living?

“What do you come from, Rosie? I mean where do you do for a living?”

Geordie! I’m blowing it. One topic at a time, please!

Rosie was quietly amused by Milton’s nervous questions. She was a tad nervous herself now that they were alone together. She decided not to add to his discomfiture. “I’m from St. Paul, Minnesota, where I teach middle school music. That’s why I have the summer off.”

“That’s nice,” was all Milton could think of to say until he thought to add, “My brother and I sing together… that is, we used to before he died.”

“Oh, I’m sorry to hear that. When did he die, if I may ask?”

“Just about a month ago. He died right here about a week after we moved in. We were to be housemates, but there was an accident, and now he’s gone.”

“I’m so sorry Milton. Were you very close?”

“Not very, but we had singing in common. We were members of a barbershop quartet. He sang bass, and I sang lead.”

“Well, at least you had that. I sing myself and teach choir as well as band and orchestra. It’s a small charter school, and I’m the entire music program.”

“That must keep you busy.”

“Yes, but I love it.”

“Do you play all those instruments you undoubtedly teach?”

“Some much better than others. I was trained on piano, but we studied all the instruments in college.”

“I play a little piano myself,” said Milton. “Not very well. Just fair.”

Esme had been listening to this conversation while preparing the dessert and was secretly delighted at how it was going. A bit of a rough start perhaps, but they seemed to have warmed to each other.

“Who’s ready for some warm blueberry cobbler à la mode?” she announced, carrying in a tray with three bowls.

It looked and smelled wonderful, and everyone finished theirs in short order. Both Milton and Rosie declined her offer of a second helping, but Esme helped herself to some more.

Suddenly, an alarm went off on her phone, and she looked at it. “Oh, my! I’ve forgotten I have a lecture to attend down at the library this evening. I promised to give a friend a ride there, and I forgot all about it. It’s a good thing I set this alarm a few days ago, or it would have slipped my mind completely. Will you two be okay here without me? There’s no need for you to leave right away. Stay as long as you’d like.”
 
 
I told you Esme was a match-ician. Do you think these two were fooled by her rather obvious attempt to get them together? No matter; it’s the result that counts, and I think both were secretly very pleased by this apparent ploy.
 
 
Now that the ice had been broken, Milton and Rosie were much more at ease together. Conversation came readily, mainly about their mutual love of music and singing.

In one corner of Esme’s parlor was a baby grand piano. She, herself, was a piano teacher and had a number of students who came to her house for lessons.

At one point, when there was a lull, Rosie said, “Would you like to try singing a song together, Milton? I don’t think Esme would mind if we sat at her piano.”

“That’s a wonderful idea. Did you have a particular song in mind?” he asked as they headed for the piano.

“Do you know ‘Danny Boy’?”

“I’m very fond of that one. We used to sing it in our quartet. Will you accompany us?”

In answer, she started to play, and on the fourth measure, Milton began singing:
 
 
    Oh, Danny Boy, the pipes the pipes are calling
    From glen to glen and down the mountain side.
    The summer’s gone, and all the roses falling.
    It’s you, it’s you must go, and I must bide.
 
 
Rosie then picked up the melody of the second verse which was higher in pitch. She had a beautiful alto voice reminiscent of Karen Carpenter:
 
 
    But come ye back when summer's in the meadow,
    Or when the valley's hushed and white with snow,
    For I'll be here in sunshine or in shadow,
    Oh, Danny boy, oh Danny boy, I love you so!
 
 
They continued singing as a duet for the remaining two verses while looking into each other’s eyes, and their voices melded like they’d sung together many times before. Milton felt chills run down his spine as they approached the final lines. When the song ended, they continued to hold each other’s gaze, lost in the solemnity of the moment, with neither wanting to look away. And then they simply smiled.
 

Author Notes

CHARACTERS



Milton Frobish: A meek 41-year-old accountant, who moves into an HOA with his brother, George.

George Frobish (Geordie): The 44-year-old invalid brother of Milton. After his death, George becomes a ghost that only Milton can see.

Esme Green (pronounced Ez-may): Milton's next-door neighbor. She is 75.

Dorothy Clodfelter: The president of the Riverwood HOA.

Penny Smalls: The vice president of the Riverwood HOA.

Betty Kleinsmith: The treasurer of the Riverwood HOA.

Rosemary Kleinsmith (Rosie): Betty's adult granddaughter. She is 35.

Picture courtesy of Imagen-3


Chapter 14
Milton vs the HOA - Chapter 14

By Jim Wile

Recap of Chapter 13: A nervous Milton leaves his house to go next door to the meeting at Esme’s and meets Rosemary on the way. She is stunning now that she’s not in work clothes, and Milton gets extra nervous. Esme greets them and ushers them inside, where they discuss the reason for the meeting—to spare Betty from what is coming.
 
Milton discovers that “Rosie” feels the same way about her Gram—that she should no longer be the treasurer of the HOA—and she promises to talk her into resigning before Milton and Esme circulate a petition to oust the current Board.
 
Esme serves dessert but then ducks out with the excuse that she has another meeting to attend, leaving Milton and Rosie alone. They are more comfortable with each other now and discuss music and singing, whereupon they sing a duet together while Rosie accompanies them on Esme’s piano.
 
 
 
Chapter 14
 
 
When Milton arrived home from work the following day, he gave Esme a call.

“Milton! How did it go with Rosie last night?”

“That was very convenient of you, Esme, to duck out on us like that. You didn’t fool us for a minute,” he said with mock sternness, “but I’m glad you did it,” he finished, jovially. “It went splendidly. Couldn’t have been better.”

“Oh, I’m so pleased. She’s a wonderful girl, isn’t she?”

“Indeed. I hope you don’t mind that we used your piano. We sang together.”

“Oh, not at all.” Esme was beaming.

“The reason why I called was to begin getting this meeting of the homeowners scheduled. After obtaining signatures on the petition from at least 25% of the membership, according to the rules, we must first request that the Board schedule the meeting. Now, isn’t that the most peculiar rule imaginable—asking the Board to call a meeting to remove themselves?”

“It’s ridiculous,” agreed Esme.

“Nonetheless, for it to be legal, we must follow the procedure outlined in the Bylaws and present them with the petition.”

“I’m guessing they will refuse to accept it and won’t call the meeting.”

“Indubitably. That being the case, we will call the meeting ourselves and invite them to it. I suppose you and I must lead the meeting.”

“You must, Milton. We wouldn’t be having this meeting at all but for all the work you have already done. I will be up there to support you, but you must lead it.”

“I’m not a leader of any kind, Esme. I’ve always worked in the background, not up front.”

“But you’re the lead singer in your quartet. How can you say that?”

“That’s… different,” he said lamely. “I don’t have to speak, just sing.”

“It’s merely another way of expressing yourself, but it’s the same thing really. You could just write out what you will say, memorize it like you would a song, and then just say it. You could even sing it if that would make you more comfortable.”

He didn’t know what to make of such an outrageous suggestion.

“Just kidding, dear.”

“I suppose you’re right, but if I falter, you will have to take over for me.”

“You won’t falter. You’ll see. Everyone will love you… except, of course, the six cheaters.”

“They will probably bring rotten tomatoes to throw at me,” said Milton disconsolately.

“Yes, perhaps you should bring a shield with you to fend them off!” said Esme with a hearty laugh, and Milton couldn’t help but laugh with her at the mental picture.

“Now, Milton, why don’t you come over for dinner? I have a meatloaf cooking in the oven right now, and I’ll be serving scalloped potatoes and green beans. After dinner, we can begin meeting with the neighbors and getting them to sign the petition to hold the removal meeting.”

“Alright, Esme. Thank you very much for the invitation to dinner.”

“Come over in half an hour, dear. It should be about ready by then.”
 
 
 

What do you think about all this, Geordie?

First, let me congratulate you on a fine performance last night with Rosie. You presented yourself admirably, Milton, and didn’t once make a fool of yourself.

A pretty amazing feat, that.

That’s a good sign. It shows you’re gaining in confidence—something you’re going to need now in your dealings with the HOA. Esme was right, Milton; you must be the leader of this effort. You can do it. I’ll bet even Rosie thinks you can.

Everyone seems to have a lot more faith in me than I do in myself.

You'll gain confidence and find it easy when you see how many people support you. Now, back to Rosie Kleinsmith. You’ve got to follow up on your good start. Ask her out now. I’m sure she’ll accept.

Maybe that was just a one-off.

I don’t think so. I saw the way you two were looking at each other as you sang together. You have music in common. Follow up on that. Offer to take her to a concert. I believe there is an afternoon performance by the Elkhart County Symphony Orchestra coming soon. Why don’t you ask her to that, followed by dinner at a nice restaurant?

I don’t know, Geordie.

Just think about it.
 
 
 

Milton had another wonderful meal at Esme’s house. He had eaten there a number of times, and she seemed quite pleased to have his company. She was a widow of many years, her husband having passed away when they were in their 50s, and she had no one to cook for but herself—until Milton moved in. She loved to cook and bake, and she had an appreciative companion in Milton.
 
Consequently, he began putting on a few pounds and was beginning to fill out. He wasn’t quite as gaunt as when she’d first met him, and he looked better now.

Following a piece of chocolate cake for dessert, Milton said, “Esme, I will have to shop for new clothes. Everything is getting tighter now that you’ve invited me for dinner so many times. I can’t resist when you ask, and I’m very appreciative.”

“You could stand a little fattening up. You look healthier. Why don’t we head out now and begin talking to the neighbors about the petition? We’ll start with Irene Ferguson, who is a dear. She is very friendly and will put you at your ease. Just be yourself, Milton. There’s nothing to fear. I’ll introduce you, but I’ll let you do most of the talking.”

“Despite what you say, this will be a trial by fire for me. I hope I’m up to the task.”
 
 
 

Milton and Esme’s first meeting with  Irene Ferguson was going very well. Milton made his points clearly and systematically, and he gained confidence as he spoke. By the end of his presentation, he had gotten Irene quite worked up.

“Milton, I’ve been harboring suspicions about this Board of Directors for a long time now. I’ve always thought that Dorothy Clodfelter was a nasty woman since the time she fined me $100 for failing to move my trash toter back from the street the day the trash was picked up. The fact that I’d had a heart attack and had to be taken to the hospital and was not at home to move it later made no impression on her. And now all these issues about the money and where it might be going are very concerning. But what can we do about it?”

“That’s exactly why we’ve come to see you tonight, Irene. I have here a petition for you to sign saying that we want to call a meeting to vote on removing the current Board and replacing it with a new Board. If we can get 25% of the neighborhood to sign the petition, we can hold such a meeting and vote—with or without the Board’s presence.”

“I think you’ll probably get 100%. Well, perhaps you won’t get the current Board members to sign, but everyone else should.”

“Perhaps not everyone. There are six members of the community who are not paying any dues or assessments, and I’m sure they will continue to support the current Board.”

“Why, that’s outrageous! What will it take to oust the current Board?”

“A supermajority of 66%.”

“I’m positive we’ll get that. I’ll be happy to sign your petition.” After signing, Irene said, “I’m thrilled to have met you, Milton, and I sincerely appreciate the efforts you’ve taken to stop this tyranny we live under. I’d like to thank both you and Esme for leading this effort, and I’ll do what I can to talk it up.”

“That would be greatly appreciated, Irene,” said Esme, “and thank you for your time.”
 
 
 

“You see, Milton?” said Esme, “That wasn’t so bad, was it? You sounded confident and laid out the issues very well. You did superbly.”

“Thank you. I do feel better about it now. Are you ready for the next one?”

“Absolutely,” she said and took his arm when he offered it as they headed to the house next door.

Author Notes
CHARACTERS



Milton Frobish: A meek 41-year-old accountant, who moves into an HOA with his brother, George.

George Frobish (Geordie): The 44-year-old invalid brother of Milton. After his death, George becomes a ghost that only Milton can see.

Esme Green (pronounced Ez-may): Milton's next-door neighbor. She is 75.

Dorothy Clodfelter: The president of the Riverwood HOA.

Penny Smalls: The vice president of the Riverwood HOA.

Betty Kleinsmith: The treasurer of the Riverwood HOA.

Rosemary Kleinsmith (Rosie): Betty's adult granddaughter. She is 35.

Irene Ferguson: Esme's next-door neighbor.

Picture courtesy of Imagen-3


Chapter 15
Milton vs the HOA - Chapter 15

By Jim Wile

Warning: The author has noted that this contains the highest level of language.

Recap of Chapter 14: Milton tells Esme the next day that he and Rosie got along splendidly after she left them alone at her house. She is delighted for them. She invites him to dinner to make plans on meeting the neighbors and explaining the petition that Milton created to oust the current Board and replace it with a new Board. Esme convinces a reluctant Milton that he must do the explaining and lead the proposed meeting.
 
Geordie also props him up and urges him to ask Rosie out, suggesting a concert and dinner.
 
After another fine meal at Esme’s, Milton and Esme visit Irene Ferguson first, and Milton gains confidence with a successful performance.
 
 
Chapter 15
 
Two weeks later
 
 
 
It was a beautiful summer day in early July when Dorothy Clodfelter invited Penny Smalls over to her house to enjoy an afternoon in the “community” pool. Naturally, they were the only ones using it.

Both women were widows whose husbands had passed away within the last five years, leaving each with a comfortable inheritance. They were in their early 60s, and neither one needed to work to support their present lifestyles.

Whereas Dorothy was tall and athletic-looking, Penny was petite and dressed in a fashion that belied her age in an effort to appear 20 years younger. Her clothing was trendy and chosen to accentuate her rather shapely body, her hair was always perfectly coiffed, and her plastic surgeon was able to put his daughter through an out-of-state college on his earnings from Penny Smalls alone.

The two women were sipping martinis poured from a pitcher Dorothy had placed on a table between them as they lounged on chaise longues. The smell of sunscreen pervaded the air.

The conversation was not entirely enjoyable, though, and a vague sense of disquiet began to form between them when Dorothy mentioned her visit two weeks ago from Esme Green and Milton Frobish.

Dorothy said, “Have you had the opportunity to meet Milton Frobish yet?”

“Is he the one who’s been visiting different neighbors with Esme Green recently? I saw them stop by several houses the other day, but they conveniently bypassed mine, so I haven’t had the pleasure of meeting him.”

“Believe me, it’s no pleasure. The man is a blithering idiot with a pretentious way of speaking when he can get his words out at all. It would be laughable except for the potential danger he poses to us.”

Despite voicing her disdain for Milton, Dorothy was not inclined to share the humiliating incident of the last time they had met in her doorway.

“He’s dangerous? How?”

“He’s been asking some very pointed questions about the rules we follow in managing the HOA. He seems to have gotten hold of a copy of the CCRs and is quoting from it.”

“Where did he get his hands on that? I thought only you and I had a copy.”

“He found out it’s filed at the county recorder’s office and downloaded his own copy. I’m starting to get a little worried now since that fool Betty called me last week and asked me whether it was the bank statements she wasn’t supposed to show anyone or something else that she couldn’t remember. I asked her why she wanted to know, and she said someone named Merton was asking about them. I figured this had to be Milton. I asked her if she showed them to him, and she said no, but God only knows if that’s the truth. Her memory is like Swiss cheese and getting worse all the time.”

“Hmm, that is cause for concern,” said Penny, “though I’d be more worried if I were you than me. Everyone can see the grass being mowed weekly, but they don’t realize it’s costing them twice what we might pay another landscape company besides my son’s to do it. And, of course, there wouldn’t be any proof in our books of the 50% kickback I get from him. You, on the other hand, might have a tough time defending the huge road repair bills you’ve been submitting when there’s little to show for them. We just have to make sure no one ever gets a look at those bank statements!”

Dorothy said, “Do you think perhaps we should put Betty out to pasture? She’s been good for us while everyone has been in the dark, but now that that nosy parker Frobish is on the scene and he has that meddling Esme Green behind him, Betty could do more harm than good, I’m afraid.”

“I think you’re probably right, Dorothy. Why don’t we plan on going over there tomorrow and get her to resign? I hate thinking our fate is now resting with that sorry dotard. What, if anything, do you think we should do about Milton Frobish?”

“Let’s sit tight for now. I doubt that fool has the guts to go up against us if we remain united with our four aces-in-the-hole.”
 
 
 

“Gram, did you ever call Dorothy Clodfelter and tender your resignation from the Board like we’d discussed?”

“We did?”

“Yes, it was several weeks ago, and you said you would call her and let her know. Did you forget to do it?”

“I don’t remember. Why would I want to resign, Rosie? I enjoy the job.”

“Do you remember how I told you that Milton and Esme created a petition to replace all the Board members because they suspect that things aren’t right, but they wanted to exempt you from it because none of it has been your fault? They want to spare you from any embarrassment. Do you recall any of that discussion?”

“Not really, dear, but if you say so. What should I tell her—Dorothy, I mean?”

“I think you can just tell her that you will soon be moving into assisted living and have to begin planning for the move. Shall we give her a call right now?”

“I’m moving into assisted living? That’s news to me.”

“Yes, we’ve been talking about it for some time now, Gram. We’ve even visited there, and you thought it was very nice. Do you remember the beautiful flower gardens? They said you could even help tend the gardens.”

“That’s wonderful, dear. I do love flowers.”

“Why don’t we call Dorothy right now then?”

“Alright.”

Rosie looked up the number in her Gram’s address book and dialed, putting the phone on speaker so that she could hear the conversation.

“Hello, Betty. What is it?”

“My goodness, you must be psychic, Dorothy. How did you know it was me?”

“It’s known as caller ID, Betty. What can I help you with?”

“Um… Now it’s gone and slipped my mind. Did I call you, or did you call me, Dorothy?”

Rosie heard a little slapping sound as if Dorothy had just smacked her forehead. She then heard Dorothy say with barely controlled politeness, “You called me, Betty. What is it I can help you with?”

Rosie decided to break in. “Hello, Mrs. Clodfelter. This is Betty’s granddaughter, Rosemary. Betty wishes to inform you that she’s tendering her resignation from the Board of Directors effective immediately. She will be moving into assisted living at the end of the summer and needs to prepare for selling the house and moving, and she feels she can no longer perform her duties on the Board.”

“Is this true, Betty?”

“If Rosie says it’s true, then I guess it is.”

Rosie could hear a faint “Yes!” followed by a smacking sound and a stifled “Oh, fuck!”

In her celebration of not having to kick Betty off the Board herself, Dorothy had raised a fist into the air and promptly smashed it into a pharmacy lamp hanging over the desk where she was sitting.

After a few seconds, Rosie and Betty heard Dorothy say, in what sounded to Rosie like mock sincerity, “Well, Penny and I will certainly be sorry to see you go, Betty. Thanks for letting me know. Would you mind if I come by and fetch all the records you have now?”

“I don’t have any left. I replaced my favorite ones with CDs and sold them all at several garage sales, Dorothy.”

“I’ll see you in a few minutes, Betty. Bye.”

Jesus Christ! thought Dorothy Clodfelter. Not a moment too soon. It would be a shame to lose Betty, though, because her ineptitude could always be used as an excuse should the HOA ever be audited. But it was also possible that this same ineptitude would be their undoing. Things have a way of working out for the best, and this conversation reinforced the decision she and Penny had made to give Betty the old heave-ho.

She left then to retrieve all the information in Betty’s possession.
 

Author Notes
CHARACTERS



Milton Frobish: A meek 41-year-old accountant, who moves into an HOA with his brother, George.

George Frobish (Geordie): The 44-year-old invalid brother of Milton. After his death, George becomes a ghost that only Milton can see.

Esme Green (pronounced Ez-may): Milton's next-door neighbor. She is 75.

Dorothy Clodfelter: The president of the Riverwood HOA.

Penny Smalls: The vice president of the Riverwood HOA.

Betty Kleinsmith: The senile treasurer of the Riverwood HOA.

Rosemary Kleinsmith (Rosie): Betty's adult granddaughter. She is 35.

Irene Ferguson: Esme's next-door neighbor.

Picture courtesy of Imagen-3


Chapter 16
Milton vs the HOA - Chapter 16

By Jim Wile

Recap of Chapter 15: Lounging by the “community” pool, Dorothy and Penny discuss what Milton and Esme are doing, since they were observed visiting the homes of many neighbors together. They begin to worry, as Milton now has a copy of the CCRs and is beginning to threaten their iron-fisted rule and the cozy arrangement the two of them have with the HOA’s funds. Together, they decide they had better oust Betty as the treasurer before she reveals something she shouldn’t.
 
Rosie has a talk with Betty and finds out she never called Dorothy to resign as treasurer two weeks earlier. They make the call now, and Rosie explains that Betty will be moving to assisted living in a few months and must resign now. Dorothy is glad she doesn’t have to force Betty out and later goes to Betty’s house to retrieve the financial records she has.
 
 
Chapter 16
 
 
“Rosie, this is Milton. I’m calling to see how Betty is doing since she resigned from the Board. How is she taking it?”

“Hello, Milton. It’s nice to hear from you again. She won’t admit it, but I think it’s a relief to her. I think she was always a little fearful of making mistakes.”

“I’m glad to hear that. Esme and I have been meeting with the homeowners over the last two weeks, and we already have more than enough signatures on the petition to call a meeting. Should we ask your Gram to sign it, or do you think it would upset her to find out about the corruption that’s been going on beneath her nose?”

“I think she should know about it, whether she signs or not, just so that she isn’t blindsided at the meeting, which we will attend.”

“Would this evening be convenient for you both to talk to Esme and me? Perhaps at 7:30?”

“Yes, that would be fine. I’ll see you then, Milton.”
 
 
 

Milton collected Esme, and together they walked down the street to Betty’s house. It was a warm evening, and when they arrived, Rosie answered the door. She wore a light, low-cut peasant blouse and shorts that revealed her shapely legs. She led them through the house and out onto the screened porch with Milton enjoying the view from behind. They found Betty gently rocking in a porch swing.

“Hello, Esme. Hello… Mervin, wasn’t it? How nice of you to drop by.”

“Hello, Betty,” they said together. “We’ve come to have a little chat,” continued Esme, “and then Milton has something for you to sign if you’re interested.”

“Well, I don’t sign anything anymore since I resigned from the Board.”

Milton said, “It’s not something to sign in your former capacity as treasurer, Betty. It’s something else. There have been some rather severe violations of the rules by both Dorothy Clodfelter and Penny Smalls, and this is a petition to hold a meeting where the members of the community can vote them out. It won’t affect you in any way because you’re no longer on the Board.”

“Why, what have they done that warrants removal, Mervin?”

“Do you remember those asterisks on your grid that indicated the neighbors who prepaid their dues, which included both Dorothy and Penny? Well, it turns out they did not prepay their dues and haven’t paid them or assessments either for some time now. There have been many other things as well, showing a clear dereliction of duties, plus I even suspect there’s been massive fraud and embezzlement by them, but we need more proof to confirm it.”

Betty’s face registered shock and then dread as she realized this had all happened under her term in office. “They… they won’t blame me for any of this, will they?”

Esme said, “Everyone knows you would never be a party to this, Betty. You needn’t worry. The focus is all on Dorothy and Penny.”

Rosie, beside her on the porch swing, took her hand in both of hers and tried to console her, but Betty remained unconvinced. “I hope that’s the case. I would never be a party to that.”

“No, of course you wouldn’t, Betty,” said Milton. “And that’s why I would encourage you to sign this petition to distance yourself and oust them before they cause any more trouble for the HOA.”

“Yes, Melville. Perhaps that would be best. Where do I sign?”

Milton handed her the petition and showed her where to write her name, address, and email.

“Yours is the final signature,” said Milton. “Everyone, with the exception of the six cheaters, has now signed it, and soon we shall hold the meeting.”

Betty still appeared forlorn, so Esme said, “Rosie, perhaps you and Milton should go for a walk while I sit here with Betty and try to cheer her up.”

Rosie and Milton needed no further encouragement and left the two on the porch.

As they walked down the sidewalk together, Rosie said, “I’m glad you called tonight, Milton. I’ve been hoping to hear from you again, but I can see you and Esme have been very busy getting all those signatures on the petition.”

“Yes, it has taken a while to meet with the many neighbors. Sometimes it was hard to escape with all the stories they related about mistreatment. It boggles the mind how the neighbors have put up with it for so long.”

Rosie thought about this for a moment. “I’ve found that people like to complain, but when it comes to taking action, they’d much rather have someone else do it. It takes someone with leadership skills to actually get things done. This neighborhood is lucky you moved into it.”

“I’ve never been much of a leader before.”

“Well, it appears you are one now.”

He glanced down at her, and she smiled up at him. “You look very pretty tonight, Rosie,” he said almost without thinking; it just came out.

“Thank you,” she said, but she looked down and blushed.

They walked on in silence for a while.

The moment is right to ask her out now, Milton. What are you waiting for?

I’m a little nervous, Geordie. What do I say?

Just mention the concert and dinner afterwards. Don’t let the moment slip away now. Get on with it.

“Rosie, would you like to attend a concert with me this weekend? There is a matinee performance by the Elkhart Symphony Orchestra this Saturday afternoon at 3:00, and perhaps we could have dinner together afterwards.”

Perfect, Milton.

“I would love to. Do you know what’s on the program?”

“It’s an all-Beethoven concert. I believe it will be the Egmont Overture, the Violin Sonata No. 5, and the complete Symphony No. 6 – the Pastoral Symphony.”

“That sounds like a wonderful program.”

Milton was beaming. “I’ll purchase the tickets tomorrow and pick you up at 2:15 on Saturday.”

Rosie smiled widely. “I’ll look forward to it.”

How did I do, Geordie?

You don’t need me to tell you that, Milton, but I’ll tell you anyway. You did very well.

I did, didn’t I?

You know you’ll have to kiss her goodnight after the date, don’t you?

Hmm, I hadn’t thought about that. I’ve never kissed a woman before. I think I’ll need instructions, Geordie.

And I think I’ll let you figure that one out on your own. You’ll be able to work it out together.

I hope you’re right.

Milton and Rosie talked about classical music and music in general during the rest of the walk. They found they had similar tastes. Rosie also revealed that she had sung in an a cappella group in college. This gave Milton a wild idea, but he kept it to himself for now.

By the time they arrived back at Betty’s house, it was close to 9:00, and dusk was well underway. Betty and Esme had moved inside when it began to cool off, and it was nearing Betty’s bedtime, so Milton and Esme decided to say goodnight.

Just before leaving, Rosie said, “I’ll see you Saturday, Milton.”

“Yes. Goodnight, Rosie.”

As they walked up the street with Milton mum about it, an exasperated Esme finally said, “Are you going to make me drag this out of you, Milton?”

“I wanted to see how long you could hold off,” he said with a playful smirk. “Not very long, I’m afraid. Yes, we’re going out together on Saturday. I’m taking her to a concert and dinner afterward.”

“Oh, Milton. I’m so pleased!”
 

Author Notes
CHARACTERS



Milton Frobish: A meek 41-year-old accountant, who moves into an HOA with his brother, George.

George Frobish (Geordie): The 44-year-old invalid brother of Milton. After his death, George becomes a ghost that only Milton can see.

Esme Green (pronounced Ez-may): Milton's next-door neighbor. She is 75.

Dorothy Clodfelter: The president of the Riverwood HOA.

Penny Smalls: The vice president of the Riverwood HOA.

Betty Kleinsmith: The senile treasurer of the Riverwood HOA.

Rosemary Kleinsmith (Rosie): Betty's adult granddaughter. She is 35.

Irene Ferguson: Esme's next-door neighbor.

Picture courtesy of Imagen-3


Chapter 17
Milton vs the HOA - Chapter 17

By Jim Wile

Recap of Chapter 16: Milton and Esme go to Betty’s house one evening to discuss the petition with her and the reason for it. She ends up signing it now that she is no longer a Board member. She’s upset that neighbors will be angry with her, but Esme stays to comfort her while Milton and Rosie go for a walk.
 
Rosie compliments Milton for taking the lead in the effort to set things right in the neighborhood. At George’s prompting, he asks her to a concert and dinner on Saturday, and she gladly accepts.
 
 
Chapter 17
 
 
It was Friday afternoon, and Dorothy Clodfelter and Penny Smalls were again relaxing around the pool, sipping margaritas this time, when who should enter the pool area but Milton Frobish and Esme Green, dressed in bathing suits and flip-flops and carrying towels?
 
Milton’s bathing suit was ridiculously baggy on his thin frame, and Esme looked like an overstuffed sausage inside her pale pink suit and white bathing cap. Milton was also carrying a briefcase.
 
Looking up suddenly, Dorothy was amused by the sight. “Well, if it isn’t Jack Spratt and his wife!”

“Good afternoon, ladies,” said Esme. “Beautiful day for the pool, isn’t it?”

Dorothy didn’t quite know what to make of this intrusion on her and Penny’s lovely afternoon in the sun, and she didn’t respond immediately.

“How’s the water?” continued Esme while Milton set his briefcase down on a round table next to Dorothy and Penny, who were stretched out on their chaise longues. He took a seat at the table.

“Have you come to swim, or is there something else on your minds?” said Dorothy, glancing at Milton with his briefcase.

“Oh, I think there will be time for everything,” replied Esme, who removed her flip-flops and dipped a toe in the water. “Ooo, a bit chilly.”

Milton extracted a clipboard from the briefcase that contained a copy of the petition signed by 36 members of the community. He kept the original at home.

“Mrs. Clodfelter, Mrs. Smalls, good day to you,” said Milton and handed Dorothy the stapled list. For the first time, Milton did not feel nervous in Dorothy’s presence. He knew he had the upper hand.

She refused to take the list and said merely, “What is it this time, Mr. Frobish? I have no interest in these papers you keep handing me.”

“I think you will be interested in this one, though. It’s a petition signed by 85% of the community requesting that you call a meeting of the membership of the HOA, the agenda of which is to remove you and Mrs. Smalls from the Board by a vote. All but six have signed the petition.”

Penny gave Dorothy an odd, questioning look, but Dorothy simply burst out laughing, and so Penny laughed too.

“Mr. Frobish, in your wildest dreams, did you ever think I would agree to call such a meeting? Do you take me for a fool?”

“No, ma’am, I don’t. Not a fool.”

Dorothy glanced at Penny and rolled her eyes. She turned back to Milton. “Then what prompted you to go to all this trouble and to make such a foolish request?”

“Am I to understand then that your answer is no?”

“What part of ‘foolish request’ don’t you understand? Of course, my answer is no.” She looked at Penny again, smiled a sardonic smile, and shook her head as if she’d been talking to the biggest imbecile imaginable.

“In that case, I must inform you that, in your stead, I will be calling a meeting of the membership to vote on the measure. You both will be invited to the meeting, but whether or not you attend is of no consequence. The results of the vote, if it is to remove you, will be final, and you will no longer be on the Board.”

“That’s the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard. You must be a moron if you think we take this seriously.”

“Careful, Dorothy,” said Esme. “Best not to get him worked up. I served him tomato soup for lunch today, if you catch my drift.”

Penny looked inquiringly at Dorothy, who ignored her as well as Esme’s remark.

Milton was enjoying how this was going. For the first time, he managed to stay unruffled by her insults. He went on, unperturbed, “It doesn’t matter whether or not you take it seriously, Mrs. Clodfelter. You can’t stop it, and you must abide by the results.”

“Says who? You?”

“No, says the Bylaws of the Riverwood Homeowners’ Association, section 5, article 3. You are aware of the Bylaws, are you not?”

Milton, you’re doing splendidly!

Thank you, Geordie.

You don’t sound at all nervous.

Not this time.

Dorothy was seething. “I don’t give a good goddam what some piece of paper might say. You’re not throwing me out! Now, I suggest you leave my property this instant.

As Milton returned the clipboard to his briefcase and closed it up, he said, “This is not your property, Mrs. Clodfelter. This is part of the common area, and I am as entitled to be here as you are. In fact, more so because I pay my dues.”

Before Dorothy could muster up a retort, Esme cried out, “Ooo, here goes nothing!” as she jumped as high as she could, tucked in her limbs, and made a giant cannonball leap into the pool with such a grand displacement of water that Dorothy, Penny, and Milton were drenched by the splash. Milton, though, decided to join Esme in the pool and jumped in.

That left Dorothy and Penny shrieking from the sudden shock of cold water. They had had quite enough of this pair. They gathered up their things in a huff and headed quickly back toward Dorothy’s house without another word.

Milton and Esme, together in the pool, grinned and gave each other a high five. “Milton, that was sensational!”

“It did go rather well, didn’t it?”

“Oh, you certainly put it to her with that correction about the common area, and I’ll bet you gave her some food for thought with your remark about the dues.”

“Yes, but I have to say the coup de grâce was your cannonball into the pool. Perfectly timed, Esme.”

“Thank you, dear. This water isn’t bad once you get over the initial shock. I do think Dorothy and Penny will have a little more trouble getting over the shock of what you just hit them with, though.”
 
 
 

When Dorothy and Penny got inside and dried off, Penny said, “What was he talking about with bylaws? What the hell are those?”

“I don’t know. I’ve never bothered to read them. I just stuck them in a drawer when they were handed over to me. I’ve only read the CCRs. Perhaps I’d better read these bylaws, for God’s sake, to see if what he says is true. If it is, we’re going to have to go to that meeting and fight it. I just can’t get over it; no one has ever stood up to us like this nebbish.”

“What do you make of that last remark he made?” asked a worried Penny. “Do you think he knows about our little cadre of friends?”

“I don’t know how he could, unless that doofus Betty showed them her records and didn’t tell me. That could really be our undoing.”

“And what was that crack Esme made about tomato soup?”

“Who knows? She’s as daffy as that Milton.”

“I think she splashed us on purpose,” said Penny.

“Ya think?”

“I don’t know, Dorothy. I’ve got a bad feeling about all of this now. I wonder if it’s time to pull up stakes.”

“Suit yourself, but we’ve got too good a deal going here. I’m going to fight it. I just refuse to believe that twerp, Milton Frobish, can beat us.”

Author Notes
CHARACTERS



Milton Frobish: A meek 41-year-old accountant, who moves into an HOA with his brother, George.

George Frobish (Geordie): The 44-year-old invalid brother of Milton. After his death, George becomes a ghost that only Milton can see.

Esme Green (pronounced Ez-may): Milton's next-door neighbor. She is 75.

Dorothy Clodfelter: The president of the Riverwood HOA.

Penny Smalls: The vice president of the Riverwood HOA.

Betty Kleinsmith: The senile treasurer of the Riverwood HOA.

Rosemary Kleinsmith (Rosie): Betty's adult granddaughter. She is 35.

Irene Ferguson: Esme's next-door neighbor.

Picture courtesy of Imagen-4


Chapter 18
Milton vs the HOA - Chapter 18

By Jim Wile

Recap of Chapter 17: Milton and Esme don bathing suits and visit the “community” pool, where they find Dorothy Clodfelter and Penny Smalls enjoying it by themselves. A newly-confident Milton proffers to Dorothy the petition signed by the community for her to call the meeting to replace herself and Penny, which, of course, she refuses to take. Milton, however, tells her that he will call the meeting in her stead and that they must abide by the results, citing the rules in the Bylaws of the HOA.
 
After Dorothy’s repeated insults to Milton, Esme provides some hilarity by doing a cannonball into the pool and giving Dorothy and Penny a well-earned drenching. They quickly retreat to Dorothy’s house to discuss this untenable situation. A triumphant Milton and Esme celebrate their success in the pool.
 
 
Chapter 18
 
 
Milton experienced a wide variety of emotions while he prepared for his date with Rosie Kleinsmith. Buoyed by his performance the previous day with Dorothy and Penny, he was nonetheless nervous about spending the afternoon and evening with Rosie. He had never been on a date with a woman and didn’t quite know how to conduct himself.

First was the matter of dress. After showering and shaving, he put on a light gray suit over a pale blue shirt and selected a solid navy-blue tie. With dark socks and black leather oxford shoes, he was smartly dressed, if not a bit boring in his selections.

What do you think, Geordie?

Not bad, but rather bland. Perhaps a more exciting tie would pull it all together in a more interesting way. I’ve managed to transport one from my closet that may be just the ticket.

George’s apparition then held out a checkered red, white, and blue Chicago Cubs tie.

Really, Geordie? I’m not much of a baseball fan.

Doesn’t matter; it’s still an attractive tie and will contrast nicely with the muted colors of the rest.

Milton replaced the navy-blue tie with the Cubbies tie and looked doubtfully in the mirror.

Have you figured out where to take her for dinner following the concert?

Yes, I thought we’d go to the Artisan.

Did you make a reservation?

Uh… no. I forgot to do that, but it’s too late now. I’ve got to leave to pick up Rosie. I guess we’ll just have to hope for the best.
 
 
 

When Rosie answered the door, she fairly took Milton’s breath away. She was dressed in a pastel green summer dress, which stopped at the knee, with white, strappy sandals and a soft, white cardigan. Her chestnut hair was half up, half down in a style that was effortlessly chic, and she wore a delicate necklace and a pair of thin bracelets for understated elegance. She was gorgeous.

“You look very lovely, Rosie.”

“Thank you. You look nice yourself. I like your tie. Are you a Cubs fan?”

“My brother suggested this tie as being more colorful than most of mine.”

Rosie tried to make sense of this, remembering that Milton had told her his brother had died recently. “Do you find yourself imagining conversations with him?”

Milton was grateful that Rosie’s quick mind had rescued him from the hole he’d begun digging for himself. “Yes, that’s it exactly.”

Betty then came into the front hall to wish them well on their date. “Now, you and Malcolm have a wonderful time, dear. You both look so attractive together.”

They said goodbye and headed for Milton’s car. After backing out of the driveway and giving Betty a final wave, Milton said, “How is she doing following her resignation from the Board the other day?”

“She’s been a little upset because that horrible Dorothy Clodfelter came over right after Gram called her with her resignation and demanded she turn over all of her records. She grilled her about whether she showed them to anyone, which, to me, was very suspicious, and it drove Gram almost to tears denying that she had. I guess she forgot showing you her dues payment log, but I’m glad she did. Did you present Dorothy with that petition yet?”

“Yes, and it went precisely how I predicted it would. She refused, of course, to call a meeting herself, and I told her I would be calling one in her stead. She was apparently unaware that the rules permitted such an action and was miffed to find out.”

“Miffed? I’ll bet it was stronger than that, knowing that horrid woman.”

“Yes, perhaps apoplectic might better describe it. She was very insulting, but I was able to withstand her verbal jousts and held firm.”

“I think it’s admirable you stood up for the neighborhood like that.”

Milton just smiled.
 
 
 

They ran into a traffic jam on the way to the concert hall because a stalled car on the highway had slowed traffic to a crawl. Milton chastised himself for not allowing more time to get there, and when they finally arrived, they were 15 minutes late, and the concert was underway. The first number was the Egmont Overture, and they had to stand in the back listening to it because the ushers would not allow them to be seated while the orchestra was playing. They had to wait until the number was over before finding their seats.
 
 
Now, George, have some mercy on Milton. He’s very new at this and unaccustomed to the intricacies of courting. Don’t be too hard on him for his lack of sufficient planning. He’s a quick learner, who won’t make these mistakes again. Help keep his spirits up and remain positive.
 
 
The remainder of the concert went very well. Both Milton and Rosie were entranced by the beauty of the Pastoral Symphony. After the final two notes, which shifted dynamically to fortissimo, they burst into thunderous applause with a release of emotion they both felt building through the last movement. A standing ovation for the orchestra followed.

It was 5:45 PM when they exited the concert hall. They walked to the Artisan restaurant, which was nearby, leaving the car where it was. When they got inside, the hostess said there would be a two-hour wait; it was a Saturday night at a popular eatery at the dinner hour after all.

“I’m a bit new at this, Rosie,” said Milton, “and I forgot to make a reservation. Perhaps we’ll have more luck at another restaurant nearby.”

“Let’s give it a try,” said Rosie, though she was doubtful.

Halfway down the same block was another popular restaurant called The Sweet Onion, but the wait there was at least an hour and a half.

They crossed the street and tried two more places on the opposite side with similar results.

“I’m so sorry, Rosie. I’ve made a muck of this through lack of planning. Perhaps we should just head home.”

Milton felt humiliated and couldn’t look her in the eye. This felt much worse than Dorothy Clodfelter’s berating. He had only himself to blame.

Rosie didn’t quite know what to say. She agreed with him that he’d made a muck of things but was much too kind to pile on. She could tell he felt badly. He was an inexperienced, awkward man, but there was something about him that she found very endearing. 
 
She had once been swept off her feet by a scoundrel whom she married—a decision she regretted almost from the start. They were nothing alike, and it had been an awful mistake. Perhaps it was because Milton and her ex-husband were such polar opposites that she was attracted to him and embraced his gentle spirit.

I’ve really made a mess of things, Geordie. I’m not very good at this.

Don’t give up, Milton. All is not lost. Why don’t you turn this corner here and see where it leads?

Milton took his advice and turned the corner. Halfway up the block, they happened to pass an old-fashioned-looking diner called Barney’s Place. The smell of hamburgers grilling wafted from it, and in their present state of hunger, it smelled intoxicating. Milton looked at Rosie and gestured questioningly with his eyes toward it.

“Why not?” she said, and they entered.

Author Notes

CHARACTERS



Milton Frobish: A meek 41-year-old accountant, who moves into an HOA with his brother, George.

George Frobish (Geordie): The 44-year-old invalid brother of Milton. After his death, George becomes a ghost that only Milton can see.

Esme Green (pronounced Ez-may): Milton's next-door neighbor. She is 75.

Dorothy Clodfelter: The president of the Riverwood HOA.

Penny Smalls: The vice president of the Riverwood HOA.

Betty Kleinsmith: The senile treasurer of the Riverwood HOA.

Rosemary Kleinsmith (Rosie): Betty's adult granddaughter. She is 35.

Irene Ferguson: Esme's next-door neighbor.

Picture courtesy of Imagen-3


Chapter 19
Milton vs the HOA - Chapter 19

By Jim Wile

Recap of Chapter 18: After getting some sartorial advice from George, Milton picks up a beautiful Rosie for their date. Milton didn’t leave quite enough time for a contingency, and traffic on the highway makes them a little late for the concert.
 
They enjoy the concert, but afterwards, they are unable to get a table at a restaurant for dinner because Milton forgot to make a reservation. Chastising himself for his poor planning, he is humbled and embarrassed, but Rosie takes it well, and George tells him that all isn’t lost yet. He steers them toward a diner where the smell of hamburgers cooking is intoxicating to the famished pair.
 
 
 
Chapter 19
 
 
Barney’s Place was crowded with a different sort of clientele from what they’d seen at the fancier places. All the booths were filled with folks wearing jeans or bib overalls and T-shirts. There were several families with kids, and it was noisy, but there were a few empty stools at the counter.

As they made their way to two of them and sat down, they noticed quite a few folks staring at them. Milton, in his suit and shiny shoes, and Rosie in her fancy dress and beautifully coiffed hair, stood out like elegant peacocks in a barnful of chickens.

Behind the counter, Barney, wearing a white paper cap and apron, came up to them and placed two glasses of water down. “Welcome, folks. Nice to see a little class in this joint for a change. Don’t pay no attention to all these yokels starin’ atcha,” he said, winking at the fellow sitting next to them at the counter. “Can I get you something else to drink?”

Water was fine with both, so Barney said, “The menu’s up there on the wall. I recommend the cheeseburger and fries. That seems to be the most popular. I’ll give you folks a minute to look it over.”

He headed down the counter to serve some other customers as Milton and Rosie looked over the menu. Having been lured in by the odor of grilling beef, they both decided on a cheeseburger with fries like Barney suggested.

After putting in their order, Rosie said, “You said earlier you sometimes still talk to your brother, Milton. Tell me about him.”

Be honest with her, Milton. Tell it like it was. It will only help her feel closer to you because she suffered at the hands of a tyrant too.

But Geordie, you’re right here. I don’t want to insult you.

No holds barred now. I deserve it, and she deserves to hear the unvarnished truth. Just be honest with her.

“Well, his name was George, though he was always Geordie to me. He was three years older and was not a good big brother for the most part. Throughout our childhood, he was a bully and was often cruel and insulting. For most of our adult lives, we had little to do with each other until five years ago when he drove his car into a tree while drunk. It left him a paraplegic and confined to a wheelchair.

“By that time, our parents were dead, he was divorced, and, having lost his job and with no one to take care of him, I invited him to live with me.”

“How did you get along?”

“Not much better than when we were kids, I’m afraid. He was still a tyrant and seemed to enjoy putting me down. And he was irresponsible. It was he who burned down our previous home through his carelessness, which led to our move to Riverwood.”

“How did he manage that?”

“He had stayed up late to watch a baseball game and had fallen asleep in his chair. He admitted to me later that he’d been swigging whiskey straight from the bottle and smoking. He said he must have nodded off, and the bottle fell from his hand, whereupon the whiskey spilled onto the wood floor, ran to the wall, and puddled by a window with draperies on each side. Then the cigarette must have fallen from his hand too and ignited the fumes from the whiskey, which spread to the draperies and set them on fire. The smoke alarms saved our lives.”

Rosie just shook her head in commiseration.

“I loved him because he was my brother, but I didn’t like him very much. About the only thing we had in common was singing, which we did together in our quartet and sometimes at home.”

“How did he die, if you don’t mind my asking?”

“I mostly blame Dorothy Clodfelter for that, although if I had been stronger, it might have been avoided.”

He then related the events of the accident, and Rosie was shocked by both the folly and despicability of Dorothy’s action.

“I can see how you got involved in the effort to right the neighborhood now. I didn’t think I could loathe that woman any more than I already do.”

Right then, Barney brought their plates of food. The burgers and fries lived up to their acclaim. Milton and Rosie probably enjoyed the meal nearly as much as they might have at one of the fancier places.
 
Barney tempted them with dessert and talked each of them into a piece of pecan pie, warmed up, with ice cream on top.

While enjoying this delectable denouement, Milton said, “I understand you had a tyrant in your life too. Would you be open to discussing it?”

“We have a lot in common, you and I, in terms of being bullied. My ex’s name is Robby. We were married for four years. I was foolish and ignored all the red flags because I was in love. I thought it would be different once we were married and that he would settle down and become more responsible.

“He was always quick with a joke and could schmooze anyone. But he lied all the time about everything, especially his drinking. And he was a mean drunk. It didn’t take much to provoke him, and when I did, he would punch me. He was careful to punch me in places it wouldn’t show—at first—but then he didn’t seem to care if anyone knew and would punch me in the face.”

“That’s terrible! Couldn’t you leave him?”

“I tried a few times, but he always found me and dragged me back. I finally got a place in a battered women’s shelter and got a restraining order against him. Following that, I divorced him. He continued stalking me for two years, though. So, when Gram invited me to spend the summer with her a few weeks ago, I jumped at the chance. His job is back in St. Paul, and I knew he wouldn’t bother me here. Being away from him has been an immense relief.”

“I’m so sorry he put you through that. I can’t imagine anyone wanting to hurt you. He must be a very disturbed individual.”

“Alright, now that we’ve gotten that out of our systems, why don’t we talk about something more pleasant? I thoroughly enjoyed the concert this afternoon.”

As they savored their pie, the conversation shifted to music, and their moods lightened considerably. They conversed effortlessly about music—a subject dear to both of them—and time seemed to stand still. They received many odd looks from patrons who overheard the conversation from this well-dressed, alien couple, but they were oblivious and simply enjoyed each other’s company.

Once they had left Barney’s Place and began walking, without overthinking it, Milton clasped Rosie’s hand as they headed back to his car. They didn’t say much on the drive back, but it was a comfortable silence. The date was going very well now despite the few mishaps.

Don’t forget the goodnight kiss, Milton.

Now you’ve gone and gotten me nervous, Geordie. How do I initiate the proceedings?

She’ll be expecting it. Just let it happen naturally, like taking her hand on the walk to the car.

But I don’t know how to kiss.

You’ll figure it out.

By the time they arrived back at Betty’s house and exited the car, Milton’s heart was in his throat. He trudged slowly up to the front door with Rosie, head down and dreading the moment for fear of fumbling and making a fool of himself.

They stopped on the front stoop, and Rosie turned toward him. “I had a lovely afternoon and evening with you, Milton. Thank you.”

He looked down at her gently smiling face, and with heart pounding a mile a minute, he closed his eyes, leaned forward suddenly with closed mouth, and banged into Rosie’s nose, startling both of them. Milton’s eyes flew open with alarm, and he instantly apologized for this crude attempt at a goodnight kiss.

“I’m sorry, Rosie. I’m very new at this, as you can undoubtedly tell.”

Amused by his clumsy attempt at a kiss, she said lightly, “Would you like a few pointers?”

“Please.”

“Alright, reach out your hands and hold my face lightly.”

He hesitated. “Now?”

“Go ahead.”

He obliged and lightly placed his hands on her face.

“Good. Now tilt your head slightly so our noses don’t collide and open your lips a little, and I’ll do the same.”

He meticulously followed her instructions.

“Perfect. Now, slowly lower your face to mine, and I’ll raise mine to yours, and we’ll kiss. Ready to try?”

“Ready. Should I keep my eyes open?”

“Totally up to you. Go ahead now.”

And he did, and their lips met in a wonderful but brief kiss. When he pulled away after a few seconds, he looked into her eyes. “Would you mind if we did it again, Rosie?”

“Not at all.”

And he again lowered his face to her upturned one. This time, they held the kiss considerably longer, and he found that his hands dropped from her face, and he embraced her as she embraced him. Milton lost himself in her splendor. His heart beat with joy, and any nervousness and dread he’d ever felt about this experience was long forgotten as he reveled in this timeless moment.
 

Author Notes
CHARACTERS



Milton Frobish: A meek 41-year-old accountant, who moves into an HOA with his brother, George.

George Frobish (Geordie): The 44-year-old invalid brother of Milton. After his death, George becomes a ghost that only Milton can see.

Esme Green (pronounced Ez-may): Milton's next-door neighbor. She is 75.

Dorothy Clodfelter: The president of the Riverwood HOA.

Penny Smalls: The vice president of the Riverwood HOA.

Betty Kleinsmith: The senile treasurer of the Riverwood HOA.

Rosemary Kleinsmith (Rosie): Betty's adult granddaughter. She is 35.

Irene Ferguson: Esme's next-door neighbor.

Picture courtesy of Imagen-3


Chapter 20
Milton vs the HOA - Chapter 20

By Jim Wile

Recap of Chapter 19: Having been unable to get a table at a fancier place following the concert, Milton and Rosie head into a diner. They attract quite a few looks from the clientele because they are very conspicuous in their nice clothes. Regardless, they end up having a terrific meal of fast food and pie. Both of them share their experiences of bullying in their former lives—Milton by George and Rosie by her ex-husband, who was abusive.
 
Following that grim conversation, they get lost in talking about music, which is dear to both of them. At the end of the date, Milton awkwardly attempts to kiss Rosie goodnight, but she patiently instructs him after he fumbles his first attempt, ending in a beautiful kiss.
 
 
Chapter 20
 
 
On Tuesday evening, Milton and Esme got together to plan how they would conduct the meeting that would be held in the conference room at Esme’s church the following Monday. 

Before discussing the agenda, Esme asked, “Do you think we should mention the suspected fraud and embezzlement yet?”

“I think that may be premature. Let’s mention the laxity shown in the dues payments by the six individuals because we have the bank records to prove it, but the rest is going to require some further investigation by the authorities. Once they are out of power, we’ll be able to focus our energy and resources to advance that agenda.”

“That’s fine,” said Esme. “Now, if you don’t mind, I would like to kick the meeting off and introduce you, and I will turn the rest of the meeting over to you. I know you’ll do well.”

“Thank you for your vote of confidence. That sounds fine.” Milton then began laying out the points he planned to make.
 
 
 

At 6:45 PM the following Monday, the residents of Riverwood began filing into the church conference room. Forty chairs sat facing a table with a lectern in the middle. The table had two chairs occupied by Esme and Milton.

By 7:00, almost every chair was filled. In the front row on the left side sat Dorothy Clodfelter, Penny Smalls, and four others, whom Milton had not met yet. Presumably these were the four non-paying cohorts of Dorothy and Penny. Betty sat with Rosie in the front row on the right side, well away from this group.

Esme took to the lectern. “Good evening, folks. Thank you all for coming. I’d like to call this meeting to order now. Most of you know me. I’m Esme Green, and I’ve been a longtime resident of the neighborhood. This used to be a friendly place to live, and everyone got along well, but over the years things have continually gotten worse, and I believe it’s time for a change.”

As she scanned the audience, she could see Dorothy and Penny glaring daggers at her, but for the moment, they were silent.

“The impetus for this change has recently come from the arrival of my next-door neighbor, Milton Frobish. What most of you don’t know is that Milton moved in about eight weeks ago with his brother, George, but I will let Milton describe what happened to George.

“Most of you have met Milton when we brought around the petition to sign, but he will be new to a few of you.” She said this while looking at the four seated next to Dorothy and Penny. “I’m going to turn the meeting over to Milton now, since he has been the one to initiate this effort through his diligent work and research. Milton?”

She stepped aside, and Milton took to the lectern. “Good evening. As Esme said, I’m Milton Frobish, and I moved here with my brother George. George was in a wheelchair, and before moving in, I had a ramp installed from the front walk to the front door so George could get up and down the front steps. I met Mrs. Clodfelter the day we moved in. As we were moving items into the house, the first words out of her mouth to me were, ‘You cannot have that unsightly ramp in front of your house. It must be taken down and replaced with one that isn’t so ugly. Do you realize that will reduce the property values in this neighborhood? What’s your name, by the way?’

“Not, ‘Hello, my name is Dorothy Clodfelter. I’m the president of the HOA, and I’d like to welcome you to the neighborhood. Once you get settled in, perhaps we could get together and have a word about neighborhood rules.’ Nothing remotely like that.

“I introduced myself and told her I was new to living in an HOA and unfamiliar with the rules, but I would be more than willing to replace the ramp with a more suitable one that was less obtrusive, and I would address the matter first thing after we got moved in.”

Milton then described how Dorothy had the ramp removed while he and George were at the doctor, leading to the accident that culminated in George’s death upon their return.

This was met with gasps and startled looks by the members, who were unaware of this until now. All eyes turned to Dorothy Clodfelter in the front row, who probably wished she was seated in the back, or maybe wished now that she hadn’t come at all. Even Penny Smalls hadn’t known this and gave Dorothy a look of shock.

Milton then related how he had even been fined for not complying in a timely fashion but had never been told when to comply.

“It was this tragic event that prompted me to begin looking into the rules that govern the HOA.”

“My first step was to ask Dorothy if she could share the governing documents with me, and she claimed not to know what they were or to possess them. I was able to obtain my own personal copies from the county recorder’s office, though. Upon reading these documents, I realized the HOA was being run in an arbitrary, illegal fashion, and some fundamental changes were mandatory.

“The most important violations I saw were the failure to conduct an annual meeting, the failure to produce a budget that the membership could approve or reject, and the failure to hold regular elections of Board members.”

At this, Dorothy Clodfelter stood suddenly and addressed Milton. “Mr. Frobish, as I informed you previously, you are wrong about this. We did hold a meeting every year, we approved the budget, and we held elections. At each of these meetings, we had a quorum, so the results were valid.”

Milton stood there politely looking at her while she addressed him. He then turned to the members and asked, “Does anyone recall seeing written notice of these meetings, as the rules require?”

Four hands shot up, belonging to the contingent surrounding Dorothy and Penny.

“And where did you see this written notice, if I may ask?”

One of them ventured, “I saw it posted on a telephone pole.”

Quite a few humorless snickers and snorts greeted this.

“I’m afraid a flyer on a telephone pole does not constitute valid written notice. We have a number of shut-ins in the neighborhood who do not get out and could not have seen such a posting. Nor apparently had anyone else.”

Milton continued his attack, “I’m intrigued by the fact that it was you six—the four who raised their hands plus Mrs. Clodfelter and Mrs. Smalls—who attended this so-called meeting and provided just enough for a quorum. I’m intrigued, because it is you six who have not paid any dues like everyone else here for at least the last 18 months and probably longer.”

The place erupted with this bombshell. Dorothy’s mouth flew open in shock. As everyone began glaring at this group, she stood up and after regaining her composure, said, “That’s an outrageous lie! You have no proof of that. I ought to sue you for slander.”

Milton was expecting this and calmly removed a sheaf of papers from a folder he had placed next to the lectern.

“I’m certain I do have the proof, Dorothy. Right here are the bank records for all of 2024 and 2025 through last month that clearly show six missing dues deposits each month. I also have a log of monies received by the HOA for dues payments that clearly shows no payments from you six.”

“That’s because all of us prepay our dues at the beginning of the year and don’t pay month by month,” spat Dorothy.

“If that were true, then we should see some rather large deposits of these full-year payments on the January or February bank statements, but there are none. My guess is that you have purposely waived the dues of these other four to buy their support to provide a quorum at your secret meetings and vote to keep you in power.”

Major rumblings and many nods of the head from the members as they considered Milton’s theory.

Dorothy tried another tack. “Mr. Frobish, how did you get your hands on those bank statements? Only the Board should have access to them.”

“That’s where you’re wrong again, Dorothy. We all have a vested interest in the financial health of the community, and we all have the right to see the bank records upon request.” He didn’t actually answer her question, but she didn’t pursue it.

Shot down again, she had one more arrow in her quiver. “I can see how you might have been led to believe these outrageous lies, but don’t you think it’s mighty suspicious that our treasurer, Betty Kleinsmith, very conveniently resigned before this meeting? It’s my contention that she has fooled you into thinking I have been guilty of mismanagement of the HOA’s finances when it was she all along. Who kept the records? Betty did. Who made the bank deposits, or lack thereof? Betty did. If there’s anyone to blame for missing funds, it’s Betty Kleinsmith!”

Pandemonium ensued at this blatant attempt to deflect the blame. Poor Betty turned to Rosie and said, “What’s happening? I don’t understand. Why is Dorothy shouting and pointing at me?”

“Don’t worry, Gram. No one who knows you believes what she said. Try to remain calm,” implored Rosie, but she could tell that her Gram was extremely agitated.

With all the shouting and invective Dorothy had leveled at Betty and all the anger in the crowd that she mistakenly thought was directed at her, Betty’s eyes rolled up in her skull, and she passed out.
 
Rosie grabbed her as she began teetering and laid her gently on the floor. Milton came quickly from behind the lectern and knelt beside Betty, as did Esme. Betty immediately began seizing, and Milton pulled out his phone to call 911.

In 10 minutes, paramedics arrived. Betty’s seizures lasted a minute or so but repeated several times.
 
This was a life-threatening situation and the paramedics loaded her onto a gurney and into the ambulance. Rosie accompanied her to the emergency room.

The place was still in an uproar. In an attempt to duck out, Dorothy announced, “I think this meeting is adjourned. I’m leaving.”

The normally meek Milton, who never raised his voice and whom most people tended to ignore and consider inconsequential, stood tall and announced in a loud voice, “Dorothy Clodfelter, as you did not bring this meeting to order, you may not adjourn it. You may leave if you wish, but this meeting is not over. Everyone who wants to remain to complete our business, please take your seats.”

All except Dorothy, Penny, and their contingent of four sat down. All eyes were upon them standing there. Knowing that the tide had turned against her (if it had ever been with her), Dorothy turned and fled from the conference room, followed by the other five toadies.

Milton said, “Do we need some further discussion, or are we ready to vote to remove the current Directors?”

There were many shouts of “Let’s vote!”

“Alright,” said Milton, “How many are in favor of removing Dorothy Clodfelter and Penny Smalls from the Board?”

Every hand in the room shot up, including Milton’s and Esme’s.

“How many are against?” Not a single hand was raised.

“Then they are relieved from the Board.”

The membership responded with much applause and even a few whistles. When folks had quieted down, Esme stood up and said, “We have one more order of business tonight, and that is to elect a new Board. There should be at least three Directors. Do we have any nominations from the floor?”
 
As might be expected, Milton, Esme, and also Irene Ferguson were nominated.

“Anyone else?” asked Milton of the members.

He waited a few moments for any more nominations, and with none forthcoming, he said, “Are there any objections to these three candidates?” When none were voiced, he said, “Then by acclamation, I think we have our new Board. We will meet in the coming days and let you know who the officers are and what our responsibilities will be. Is there anything that anyone would like to say before we adjourn?”

One lady stood up and said, “I’d just like to thank you, Milton and Esme, for doing what none of us has had the courage to do for a long time.”

Many people responded with “Hear, hear!” and expressed gratitude and applause. Milton and Esme beamed at each other.

When the applause died down, Milton said, “Thank you all very much for your support and for coming tonight. This meeting is adjourned.”

Author Notes
CHARACTERS



Milton Frobish: A meek 41-year-old accountant, who moves into an HOA with his brother, George.

George Frobish (Geordie): The 44-year-old invalid brother of Milton. After his death, George becomes a ghost that only Milton can see.

Esme Green (pronounced Ez-may): Milton's next-door neighbor. She is 75.

Dorothy Clodfelter: The president of the Riverwood HOA.

Penny Smalls: The vice president of the Riverwood HOA.

Betty Kleinsmith: The senile treasurer of the Riverwood HOA.

Rosemary Kleinsmith (Rosie): Betty's adult granddaughter. She is 35.

Irene Ferguson: Esme's next-door neighbor.

Picture courtesy of Imagen-3


Chapter 21
Milton vs the HOA - Chapter 21

By Jim Wile

Recap of Chapter 20: The meeting to replace the current Board with a new Board, led by Milton and Esme, begins. Milton describes how he got involved in the effort by relating the story of his first meeting with Dorothy and how she ordered the ramp removed from his steps, leading to George’s death. The neighbors were shocked to hear of this for the first time.
 
Milton then reveals how his study of the CCRs convinced him the Board was operating in an illegal and arbitrary manner. Dorothy attempts to deny it, but Milton points out the major violations and reveals to the neighbors that Dorothy, Penny, and four others have not been paying any dues or assessments. Milton displays the bank records to prove it. Dorothy attempts to cast the blame for the financial shenanigans on Betty, who doesn’t understand what’s going on and why the place is in an uproar, thinking they were blaming her. She passes out and begins seizing, whereupon Milton calls 911. Paramedics come and take her to the hospital.
 
Dorothy tries to adjourn the meeting then, but Milton refuses to let her because the vote to remove her hasn’t been made yet. Dorothy, Penny, and the other four cohorts leave, and the vote is taken. A unanimous vote removes Dorothy and Penny from the Board, and Milton, Esme, and Irene Ferguson are elected to replace them. Milton adjourns the meeting to much thanks and praise from the neighbors.
 
 
 
Chapter 21
 
 
Your mission is nearly complete now, George. You see how well Milton did at the meeting he called? You’ve certainly helped give him the confidence he needs to make his mark in life. He still has a few challenges ahead of him and will need all the strength he can muster to overcome them. 

You’ll notice how he’s calling on you less and less as his confidence grows, and that’s as it should be, but he may still need you to help push him over the goal line. Be ready for it, George. The success of your mission depends on it.
 
 
As happy as Milton and Esme were to have achieved their goal, as soon as they left the meeting, they were immediately sobered by the thought of Betty.

Esme said, “Milton, would you mind driving us to the hospital so we can check on Betty? I’m worried about her.”

“Certainly. I’m very concerned too. Those seizures were hard to watch.”

Once out of the parking lot, Milton began speeding toward the hospital.

Milton, slow down. There isn’t any need for speed.

What are you saying, Geordie? That it’s too late for Betty? Please don’t tell me that.

They’re working on her now, but I’m afraid it’s pointless. They won’t call it for a few minutes yet. You’ll have time to get there and find Rosie before they come out with the news.

Oh, Geordie! That horrid woman has played a part in yet another death. Is there no end to the damage she can cause?

At least you stripped her of her power.

Small comfort right now.

Milton slowed his pace and within 10 minutes arrived at the emergency room parking lot. He and Esme headed into the waiting room, where they found Rosie. She was sitting and staring straight ahead with a glazed look in her eyes, a magazine in her lap going unread.

Milton and Esme walked over to her. Only after Milton said, “Rosie?” did she come out of her trance and look up at them. She immediately stood and moved into Milton’s arms where she began softly weeping as he tried to comfort her. 

Esme joined in the embrace. “There, there, sweetie. We’re here for you. I’m sure they’re doing everything they can for her,” she said, patting her gently on her back.

“I’m scared it’s too late,” said Rosie. “She was seizing again when they took her in. She didn’t look good at all.”

“I’m so sorry this happened, Rosie,” said Milton. “I would never have called this meeting if I had thought this might be the result.”

“It wasn’t your doing, Milton. It was that horrible woman who strikes again like she did with your brother.”

“Even so, I wish it had never come to this.”

A young woman approached the group and said, “Ms. Kleinsmith?”

She turned to her and said, “Yes.”

“Dr. Sicaro would like to discuss your grandmother’s case with you in a private room. Could you follow me please?”

The doctor was waiting for them in the consultation room. “Ms. Kleinsmith, I’m Dr. Sicaro, and I was one of the doctors working on your grandmother. She experienced a massive seizure and lost consciousness. Her heart stopped, and despite our best efforts, we were unable to revive her. We believe her death was caused by a ruptured aneurysm in her brain. I’m deeply sorry for your loss.”

Rosie blinked back tears as she managed to say, “Thank you, Doctor, for trying to save her.”

“I’m going to have our social worker come and meet with you to discuss the next steps. If you wait here, she will be in shortly.”

“Thank you.”

After the doctor left, Milton said, “I’m so sorry, Rosie,” and he embraced her again, whereupon she began sobbing in earnest. Esme added her condolences as well, and they stood this way for several minutes until the social worker found them.
 
 
 

Betty had asked to be cremated, and Rosie called Milton up a week later and asked him if he could accompany her when she spread her Gram’s ashes. She wanted her remains to be spread among the flowers in her beloved garden. 

It was a lovely summer day when Milton arrived at Rosie’s house in the late afternoon, and together they headed to the backyard where a beautifully maintained perennial garden awaited them. This had been Betty’s pride and joy and where she desired to become one with the soil to nourish the flowers she dearly loved and admired.

Milton watched as Rosie carefully spread her ashes in a number of locations around the large flower beds. When she was all done, she stood next to Milton, who wrapped his arm around her waist, and she did the same. 

“I will miss you, dear Gram,” she said. “You were a wonderful grandmother to me, and you gave me such love and comfort when my mother and your daughter died. I know you were hurting, but you remained strong for me, and I will never forget it. I love you, Gram.”

They remained there for a few minutes, looking at the beautiful scene. They stood in the shade of a pin oak tree. The late afternoon sun dappled through the leaves as the shadows were growing longer. It was the warmest part of the day, and Rosie and Milton decided to move inside the house.

They entered the kitchen through the back door. Rosie poured Milton and herself some iced tea. They sat at the kitchen table sipping it. 

“So, how did your first Board meeting go? Did they make you the president?” asked Rosie.

“Neither of the other two wanted the job, so I accepted it. Esme is the vice president, and Irene is the secretary. I also volunteered to be the treasurer, so I have two roles.”

“I think the HOA will be in good hands now.”

“I think so too,” he said.

After a pause, Rosie said, “I wanted to let you know that I’m the executor of Gram’s estate. She kept her will in a filing cabinet in her study, so I’ve reviewed it. It turns out I’m her only heir since both my parents are dead, and I have no siblings. Gram left her entire estate to me, including this house.”

Milton hesitated before asking. “Have you decided yet what you’re going to do about it?”

Rosie looked pointedly at him. “Are you asking me if I plan on staying here and living in the house?”

It was precisely what he’d been thinking. His heart leapt at the idea. “Well, are you? because I would be thrilled if you did.”

“I’ve been giving it a lot of thought. Since my divorce, I don’t have any family in St. Paul. I have friends and a job, but no family ties. I’m undecided right now.”

Milton thought for a moment. “Esme is quite familiar with the music scene here in Elkhart, having taught piano for a number of years. If it helps, she may have some ideas about a teaching job.”

“I guess it wouldn’t hurt to talk to her about it.”

Rosie grew silent then and cast her eyes down. Milton watched a tear wend its way down her cheek. He clasped her hand, which was resting on the table, in both of his. The tears continued to flow. 

She finally looked up at him and said, “I miss her so much. She was always so supportive and helped pay for my college. She bought a piano, even though she didn’t play, just for the times I would visit her and would play for her. Would you sing with me, Milton? I would like to sing her favorite song, ‘The Prayer.’ Do you know it?”

“Not by heart. Especially not the Italian version. I’m certainly no Andrea Bocelli.”

“Well, I’m no Celine Dion either, but I’ve got the sheet music with the English lyrics if you’ll join me in singing it.”

“I’d be happy to.”

Rosie said, “Would you mind if we went out to the garden and sang it there? It would be like we were singing it to her.”

“That’s a wonderful idea.”

“I’ll be right back.” She went into the living room, where she opened the piano bench and waded through the sheet music inside until she found “The Prayer.” 

Together they headed back out to the garden, and Milton held the music as Rosie began with the first line. They alternated lines:
 
    I pray you′ll be our eyes
    And watch us where we go
    And help us to be wise
    In times when we don't know
    Let this be our prayer
    When we lose our way
    Lead us to a place
    Guide us with your grace
    To a place where we′ll be safe

For the remainder of the song, they sang the lines together with their voices intertwining in perfect harmony, with his rich bass tones complementing her versatile range. Their voices blended with great emotion and vibrant dynamics, and as they ended the final measure together in the upper register, staring into each other’s eyes, it was as though their souls had united, like their voices, to absorb the beauty and the passion of the moment.

Milton laid the music on the grass. He stood straight and looked into Rosie’s eyes again. As he held her gaze, he raised his hands to her face and gently kissed her on the lips. She had taught him well, for then they embraced, and more passionate kisses soon followed.
 
 
 
5 chapters remaining

Author Notes

CHARACTERS



Milton Frobish: A meek 41-year-old accountant, who moves into an HOA with his brother, George.

George Frobish (Geordie): The 44-year-old invalid brother of Milton. After his death, George becomes a ghost that only Milton can see.

Esme Green (pronounced Ez-may): Milton's next-door neighbor. She is 75.

Dorothy Clodfelter: The president of the Riverwood HOA.

Penny Smalls: The vice president of the Riverwood HOA.

Betty Kleinsmith: The senile treasurer of the Riverwood HOA.

Rosemary Kleinsmith (Rosie): Betty's adult granddaughter. She is 35.

Irene Ferguson: Esme's next-door neighbor.

Picture courtesy of Imagen-3


Chapter 22
Milton vs the HOA - Chapter 22

By Jim Wile

Warning: The author has noted that this contains the highest level of violence.
Warning: The author has noted that this contains the highest level of language.

Recap of Chapter 21: Milton and Esme rush to the hospital to check on Betty following the meeting at which the old Board was replaced. They meet Rosie in the waiting room but are soon informed that Betty has passed away.
 
A week later, Rosie has invited Milton to her house to be with her while she spreads Betty’s ashes in her beloved garden. They go inside, and Rosie informs Milton that she is the executor of Betty’s estate, and Betty has left everything to her, including the house. Milton perks up at this news and asks Rosie what her plans are, hoping beyond hope that she decides to stay. Rosie is undecided but is seriously considering it.
 
Rosie is suddenly sad, thinking about her Gram, and suggests to Milton that they sing Betty’s favorite song, “The Prayer,” together out in the garden, which they do.
 
 
Chapter 22
 
 
Milton and Rosie began sharing a few meals together at each other’s houses. One evening when he arrived at her house, she had some exciting news for him.

“I was going through Gram’s computer, seeing if there was any important information kept there, and I came across a folder called Scanned Invoices. The documents in there were several years old, but they consisted of vendor invoices to the HOA from the road repair company, the landscape company, the power company, and a few others. I’m guessing that Gram would scan these for backup. Apparently, she forgot to tell Dorothy about her computer files when she came to collect all her physical files, and Dorothy never mentioned it because maybe she didn’t even know about them.”

Rosie showed Milton to Gram’s computer, and he took a look at some of the files in that folder. “Rosie, there’s a goldmine of information here. This is the sort of thing the sheriff’s department will need when they begin their investigation into fraud.”
 
 

As the new president, Milton called weekly meetings of the Board until they got their feet wet.
 
The new Board decided to hire an attorney because there would be many legal issues in the days to come. The first thing he did was to get a court order declaring the new Board of Directors to be the official ones for the HOA. This was required for the new Board to be able to gain access to bank accounts, insurance policies, and the like.

The attorney’s second job was to begin the process of seeking restitution from Dorothy Clodfelter, Penny Smalls, and the four members who had not paid any dues for some time. Armed with this new data Rosie had discovered, he had enough to present to the sheriff’s department to begin an investigation.
 
 
Much as I hate to say it, Jim Wile has a tendency to bloviate about details that many won’t find particularly interesting. He wrote several hundred words describing all the legal steps to bring suit against Dorothy Clodfelter and Penny Smalls. Rather than bore you with all that, I persuaded him to let me cut to the chase and just say that Dorothy and Penny were arrested, made bail, and their trial for fraud and embezzlement was set for December 15, 2025. That’s really all that needs to be said with but one exception: There will be a rather important pre-trial hearing in late November that will likely end up having a profound effect on the case.
 
 
In the following weeks, Milton and Rosie continued to see each other often. Milton had had an earlier idea when he found out that Rosie had once sung in an a cappella group, and he decided to broach the idea with her now.

“You know, Rosie, something that I’ve come to miss a great deal since George died is our participation in Chordially Yours, our barbershop quartet. We never did replace George as the bass singer, and the group fell apart after his death. How would you like to help revive the group with you as the lead singer and me taking the bass part?”

“That’s a lovely idea, but are you sure all you guys would accept having a girl in the mix? And I wouldn’t want to take your part as the lead. That wouldn’t be fair to you.”

“I’m sure if they were to meet you, they would be delighted for you to join us. In fact, I think our group would likely soar in popularity with a much more attractive and talented lead singer. I would feel perfectly at ease in the role of the bass singer.”

“Well, that’s very sweet. I still haven’t decided yet if I will be remaining here in Elkhart, but even if it’s only for a performance or two, I would love to join your group if it will have me.”

“Splendid. I will contact the others tonight and see what they say.”
 
 
 

Milton’s prediction was accurate, and the other members were thrilled to be able to get back together. And they were especially thrilled at the thought of having an extremely attractive woman with a voice like Karen Carpenter, as Milton described her, join them. The tenor, who was the de facto group leader, suggested an audition for her on Saturday afternoon at his house.

They had her sing the lead for the song “Hallelujah” by Leonard Cohen while they backed her up. She sang with such abandon that they could tell after the first verse and chorus she would be an outstanding addition to the group.

They rehearsed a number of other songs too, such as “You’ve Got a Friend” by Carole King and “Rolling in the Deep” by Adele, and the fact that she could also accompany them on the piano for certain songs was a big plus. They were overjoyed to welcome her into the group. 

They complimented Rosie for her outstanding singing and thanked her for being willing to join them for however long she could stay.

She was beaming on the way home in Milton’s car. The group had harmonized beautifully. Milton said, “Rosie, I had extolled your virtues to the utmost when I told them about you, and you certainly proved yourself. That was fantastic—the most fun I’ve had rehearsing with this group ever.”

“I truly enjoyed the experience, and I loved your friends. Such good guys with great voices—yours included. That was really fun.”

They were in fine fettle as they approached Rosie’s house, but right before Milton turned into the driveway, Rosie spotted something that turned her veins to ice. Sitting in front of her house was a pickup truck with a Minnesota license plate, and behind the wheel was the unmistakable figure of her ex-husband.

She gasped as Milton made the right turn into her driveway. When he came to a stop, he turned to her and saw the dramatic change in her appearance. Gone was the smiling, laughing, beautiful face, and in its place was a mask of fright.

“Rosie, what is it?”

“It’s my ex-husband. He’s here!”
 
 
 

Upon seeing the car pull into the driveway, Robby Martel got out of his truck and headed quickly up the driveway to the passenger side of the car that just pulled in. He yanked the door open, and there was Rosie. His Rosie, because he had never accepted the failure of his marriage and still considered that she was his. 

In his extended family, the men were boss, and the women always did what they were told, and if they didn’t, it was up to the men to “instruct them.” That’s the way his father had always treated his mother, and Robby was nothing if not a good student of his father’s ways. He reached in and yanked Rosie out of the car. “Well, well, well. I thought I might find you here at your Gram’s house.”

“Robby, what are you doing here?” she said as she tried to free her arm from his grasp.

“I came to find you, obviously, and bring you back to St. Paul, where you belong.”

“I’m not coming back to St. Paul except to move out. I live here now.”

It’s time for action, Milton. You can’t let him get away with this.

I know, Geordie, but what can I do? Have you seen that guy? He’s twice my size.

Don’t forget your secret weapon that I trained you on. I know you’ve never had the occasion to actually use it, but what was all that practice for that I made you do if not for a situation like this? You remember where it is, don’t you?

You’re right! I’d quite forgotten about it.

Milton turned off the engine and unfastened his seatbelt. He opened his door, got out, then reached under the front seat, where he felt for a cloth bag that was about 18 inches long. He drew it out, closed the door, and walked quickly around to the other side of the car where this brute was accosting his lady.

Robby was six feet four inches tall and weighed 225 pounds, and it was mostly muscle. He was wearing a muscle shirt, and his arms were the size of Milton’s thighs. The contrast between these two could not have been more stark.

“Unhand her, sir!” said Milton.

Robby turned his attention to this peculiar, gangly man who spoke funny. “Say what?”

“I said, unhand her.”

“What does that even mean?”

“It means take your hands off her before I thrash you.”

“Before you thrash me?” He turned to Rosie and said, “You’re not seriously involved with this idiot, are you?”

“I’m certainly not involved with you anymore,” said Rosie, “so unhand me like Milton said.”

“Milton, is it? Well, hello, Milton,” he said with exaggerated disdain. “What a sissy name for a cupcake like you. Now, get the fuck out of the way. Rosie’s coming back with me.”

He shoved Milton aside, grabbed Rosie in a headlock, and began dragging her toward his pickup truck.
 
As they headed down the driveway with Rosie flailing away ineffectually at Robby, Milton was spurred to action. His ire was raised. Normally slow to react, his anger now flared with an unaccustomed fury. The love of his life was being carried off by a brute, and he would not stand for this egregious affront to their future happiness together.

Milton unsnapped the cloth bag and drew from it his secret weapon. It had been a gift from Geordie, who had acquired it for himself before his accident. Following the accident, he could no longer use it, so he gave it to Milton and insisted that Milton become proficient with it. He made him practice until he mastered it for the time when it may come in handy. Now was such an occasion.

By the time he had extracted it from the cloth bag and given it a quick run-through, he found the brute was shoving Rosie into the passenger seat of his truck. Milton ran down the driveway and saw him punch her in the side of her head. She immediately stopped struggling and seemed stunned from the blow.

Robby closed her door, walked around to the driver’s side, and opened the door to get in. He had seen Milton running down the driveway but paid this sissy man no mind. As he started to get into the driver’s seat, he heard, “Hey, asshole!”

This was too much for Robby. He had planned to just drive off, but now he thought he’d have a little fun first with this girly man. 

He turned to face him, but before he could utter a single word, with a quick flick of the strange man’s arm, the end of a pair of nunchucks struck Robby squarely in the jaw, and he hit the pavement, unconscious.
 
 
 
4 chapters remaining
 

Author Notes

CHARACTERS



Milton Frobish: A meek 41-year-old accountant, who moves into an HOA with his brother, George.

George Frobish (Geordie): The 44-year-old invalid brother of Milton. After his death, George becomes a ghost that only Milton can see.

Esme Green (pronounced Ez-may): Milton's next-door neighbor. She is 75.

Dorothy Clodfelter: The president of the Riverwood HOA.

Penny Smalls: The vice president of the Riverwood HOA.

Betty Kleinsmith: The senile treasurer of the Riverwood HOA.

Rosemary Kleinsmith (Rosie): Betty's adult granddaughter. She is 35.

Irene Ferguson: Esme's next-door neighbor.

Robby Martel: Rosie's ex-husband.

Picture courtesy of Imagen-3


Chapter 23
Milton vs the HOA - Chapter 23

By Jim Wile

Recap of Chapter 22: Rosie discovers incriminating information on Betty’s computer that will provide evidence against Dorothy, and she shows it to Milton. The new Board, headed by Milton as the president, hires an attorney to handle the evidence against the old Board and to get the sheriff’s department involved. Dorothy and Penny are criminally charged for fraud and embezzlement, jailed, and then out on bail.
 
Rosie auditions to be in Chordially Yours and passes with flying colors. On returning to her house, when Milton pulls into the driveway, Rosie’s ex-husband pulls her out of the car. He had arrived to kidnap her and bring her back to St. Paul. George reminds Milton of a secret weapon Milton knew how to use, and as Robby is about to drive off with Rosie in his truck, Milton strikes him with nunchucks, breaking his jaw and knocking him out.
 
 
Chapter 23
 
 
Esme Green had watched the entire scene unfold from the time Milton pulled into the driveway to the moment he struck Robby with his nunchucks. She had been out for a stroll this summer evening and was just coming up the sidewalk when Milton’s car arrived at Rosie’s house. She had watched the muscle-bound man exit his truck, head up the driveway, and pull Rosie from the car. She stood transfixed by what she was seeing but had the presence of mind to pull her phone from her pocket and call 911 with a report of the ongoing incident.

She had witnessed the man stuff Rosie into his truck and strike her with his fist. Then she watched, amazed, as Milton dispatched the man with a curious-looking weapon. She rushed across the street to see about poor Rosie in the front seat of the truck. She found her stunned but not completely unconscious, sitting in the front seat. Milton joined Esme, and together, they helped Rosie out of the truck, Milton clasping her by the arm and supporting her around her waist while Esme took her other arm. The three of them walked around to the back of the truck, while Esme comforted her with, “Oh, Rosie, you poor dear. I’m so sorry this happened. Who is that man?”
 
“He’s  my ex-husband.” When Rosie spotted him lying flat on his back, unconscious and with a badly misshapen jaw, she turned to Milton with mouth open and eyes wide. “How did you manage to do that to him?”

“I hit him with this,” he said and pulled the nunchucks from under his arm.

They were staring at a pair of heavy, polished wooden sticks separated from each other by a short chain. Rosie, who was quite revived by now, said, “What is that?”

“It’s a pair of nunchaku, or what’s commonly called nunchucks in the US. It’s a traditional Japanese martial arts weapon. A properly delivered blow with the nunchucks is capable of breaking a man’s jaw and knocking him out, which it appears I’ve done.”

“It’s true,” said Esme. “I saw it happen with my own eyes. It happened lightning-fast. He was standing by his truck one moment and on the ground the next. It was the most remarkable thing!”

Rosie turned her gaze back to Milton with a mixture of awe and gratitude lighting up her face. “You saved me, Milton. How can I ever thank you?”

“You can stay here, my dearest, and never leave me.”

They drew together and held each other in a tight embrace. Esme’s smile nearly split her face in two. In a few moments, they heard the faint pitch of a siren, and soon enough, a sheriff’s car turned the corner and came rushing up to the scene with siren blaring and lights flashing.

Two deputies exited the car and came up to the group. Robby was beginning to stir and groaned as the pain from the broken jaw pulled him to consciousness.

Esme said, “This ruffian on the ground here tried to kidnap this young woman when her boyfriend,” she said, pointing to Milton, “came up and disabled him with his numbnuts.”

“Nunchucks, Esme,” corrected Milton.

The deputies turned Robby over so that they could place handcuffs on his hands behind his back. He was awake enough that they were able to raise him to his feet and place him in the backseat of their cruiser.

They returned to Rosie, Milton, and Esme to finish getting their statements about the event. They left after saying that a detective would likely contact them for more statements.

Rosie invited Milton and Esme in to talk about what had just happened. She was still shaken by events and had a slight headache from Robby’s punch.

When they got inside, Esme said, “Why don’t you sit, Rosie, and I’ll make us some tea?”

“That would be nice, Esme. Thank you.”

When Esme had bustled off to the kitchen, Milton and Rosie sat down on the sofa in her living room. Milton put his arm around her, and she snuggled into him.

“I still can’t get over how you overpowered him. You are full of surprises.”

“Rosie?” 

She turned her face up to look at him. “Yes, Milton?”

“Did you really mean it when you said, ‘I live here now?’”

“Did you mean what you said when you called me ‘dearest’ and that you never wanted me to leave you?”

“Most fervently.”

“Then I guess I’ve made up my mind to stay.”

“I love you, Rosie. You’ve made me the happiest man alive,” he said and lowered his face as she raised hers to seal it with a kiss.

“I love you too, Milton,” and they kissed again. They continued kissing until Esme came in with the tea. She caught them pulling apart and couldn’t help but smile. She had been eavesdropping on their conversation and said, “Well, now, quite an eventful day!”

They both grinned up at her. “Indeed, it has been,” said Milton, “in so many ways.”

Rosie said, “Esme, Milton mentioned once that you have your pulse on the music scene here in Elkhart. Do you happen to know of any music teaching positions that are available or may become available soon? It may be a little late for the coming school year, which starts in a few weeks, but if you hear of anything, would you be willing to share it with me?”
 
“Absolutely. I will certainly keep my ears open, dear.”

“I would appreciate that very much. Thank you.”
 
Over tea, they told Esme about the audition with the quartet earlier and how well it went. With Rosie’s decision to stay, she would now become the permanent fourth member of Chordially Yours instead of merely a guest performer.
 
 
 
 
Despite the current uncertainty about a job, Rosie wasn’t worried. Her life had suddenly taken a turn for the better, giving her a peace of mind she had not had for a very long time. She gave notice to her school in St. Paul that she would not be returning in the fall.
 
 
 

In late August, Milton took two weeks of vacation time to travel to St. Paul with her, help her pack up and move out of her apartment, then return to Elkhart and set up her house with many of her own things. He was devoted to her, and she to him, and she appreciated him all the more for the kind, gentle, amusingly quirky soul that he was, especially in comparison to her ex-husband.

Speaking of whom, Robby Martel was eventually to be tried and found guilty of attempted kidnapping, assault, and battery. He would be sentenced to eight years in prison in Indiana. It was discovered that he was also wanted in Minnesota for violating his restraining order against Rosie, and following his prison term in Indiana, he would be extradited to Minnesota to serve a term in prison there.

Things were certainly looking up for Rosie. There was one cloud on the horizon, though, and it threatened to ruin everything.
 
 

3 chapters remaining
 

Author Notes
CHARACTERS



Milton Frobish: A meek 41-year-old accountant, who moves into an HOA with his brother, George.

George Frobish (Geordie): The 44-year-old invalid brother of Milton. After his death, George becomes a ghost that only Milton can see.

Esme Green (pronounced Ez-may): Milton's next-door neighbor. She is 75.

Dorothy Clodfelter: The president of the Riverwood HOA.

Penny Smalls: The vice president of the Riverwood HOA.

Betty Kleinsmith: The senile treasurer of the Riverwood HOA.

Rosemary Kleinsmith (Rosie): Betty's adult granddaughter. She is 35.

Irene Ferguson: Esme's next-door neighbor.

Robby Martel: Rosie's ex-husband.

Picture courtesy of Imagen-3


Chapter 24
Milton vs the HOA - Chapter 24

By Jim Wile

Recap of Chapter 23: Esme, who was out walking, witnesses the entire scene of the assault and kidnapping. She summons the police, and Rosie’s ex-husband, Robby, is taken away and arrested. Inside Rosie’s house, while Esme fixes tea, Milton and Rosie confess their love for each other, and Rosie makes her decision to stay. Milton is overjoyed. Esme promises to keep an open ear about a music teaching job for Rosie.
 
Milton accompanies Rosie to St. Paul and helps her move out of her apartment and set up the house she inherited from Betty. We find out Robby is sentenced to many years in jail. Things are looking up for Rosie, but the chapter ends on an ominous note. There's a cloud on the horizon that could still ruin everything.
 
 
 
Chapter 24
 
 
One hurdle down, George, with two yet to come. A successful outcome with those, and I think your mission here will be concluded. I trust you are feeling good about things, as Milton, with your help, is well on his way to a life of happiness and fulfillment. You’ve done well, but your remaining tasks will require all of your attention. No time for slacking now, as was your wont in life. Stay alert!
 
 
Dorothy Clodfelter was not doing well. As president of the Board of Directors for the past 15 years, she had been ousted in a few short weeks by the likes of that idiot Milton Frobish. The kind of person who was so easy (and enjoyable) to intimidate. She had felt vastly superior to that seemingly inconsequential non-entity. But who was now the president of the HOA, and who was now a disgraced former president facing charges of fraud and embezzlement and looking at a hefty prison term if convicted?
 
Dorothy had liked the power and perks of the position. She found that she missed making the rules, walking around the neighborhood, and issuing fines for the most minor things. And, of course, being able to line her pockets at the same time. Wasn’t this merely payment for the time she so generously dedicated to overseeing the HOA?

How could this have happened? She had clearly underestimated Milton Frobish and had to admit he had outwitted and outmaneuvered her every step of the way.
 
And how the hell had he gotten hold of those damn bank records?

After being arrested and booked, she had spent several days in jail waiting for her bail hearing and decided she would not go down without a major fight. She’d had to pay a hefty bail, but at least she was free—for now.

It all came down to the bank records. If she could get them thrown out as evidence for being illegally obtained, then she might have a chance of getting out of this with minimal damage.

And Penny—that vain little numbskull with her perfectly coiffed hair and cute little figure, who tries to pass herself off as a 40-year-old—she would be the weak link in this trial. But Dorothy had to make nice to her and try to keep her spirits up. She feared Penny would cave under the pressure and spill the beans in return for a lighter sentence for herself. That would be a disaster.

If, somehow, she managed to come out of this unscathed or only mildly scathed, it would be time to pull up roots and leave. Of that, Dorothy was certain. 
 
 
 

A pre-trial motion to suppress the bank statements was held on November 24. Besides the prosecutor and the defense attorneys, present at the hearing were Dorothy Clodfelter, Penny Smalls, Milton Frobish, Esme Green, Rosemary Kleinsmith, and the HOA’s attorney.

The defense brought the motion, so Dorothy’s attorney spoke first. “Your Honor, I would like to make a motion to suppress the bank records as evidence in the trial against my client. I believe these records were obtained illegally by Milton Frobish, and the case against my client would never have been brought without them. To allow them at trial would violate her right to due process.”

“I’m well aware of the implication of allowing the records into evidence,” said the judge. “On what basis do you claim the records were illegally obtained? Doesn’t Mr. Frobish, the current president of the HOA, have the legal right to acquire the bank records?”

“Yes, Your Honor, he does now, but at the time he acquired them, he was not the president and acquired them illegally. I must confess, I don’t know how he did it. There is a prescribed way for an HOA member to request to see the bank records, but he did not follow it, and yet somehow, he acquired them. I can only conclude that he did so illegally.”

“Let me get this straight,” said the judge. “You’re going to prove your case by res ipsa loquitur?”

“Exactly, Your Honor. The thing speaks for itself.” 

“Alright, does the prosecutor have an opening statement?”

“Yes, Your Honor. Mr. Frobish did nothing illegal to obtain the bank records, as his testimony will show. The legal way of obtaining them makes them admissible at trial.”

“And you will reveal how he obtained them?” asked the judge.

“Yes, Your Honor.”

“Alright. I’m going to have you go first, since the burden of proof now appears to be yours.”

“Thank you, Your Honor. I’d like to call Mrs. Esmeralda Green to the stand.”

Esme was sworn in and took her seat on the witness stand.

“Now, Mrs. Green, did you accompany Mr. Frobish to the house of Betty Kleinsmith on June 8 of this year for the purpose of obtaining bank records?”

“Not precisely, no. Mr. Frobish was interested in seeing any financial records Betty would be willing to show us. As you know, the HOA is required to produce monthly financial statements, which are available to the members upon request. It was those that Milton and I wanted to see.”

“And did she voluntarily show you any?”

“Financial statements? No. She no longer produced them. But she did show us a log of dues payments made by the members each month.”

“Did you or Mr. Frobish request to see the bank records as distinct from the financial statements?”

“No, sir. As I recall, Milton asked Betty if she kept the monthly bank records, but he never asked to see them. Betty wondered out loud—I don’t remember the exact words, but something like—‘Was that what Dorothy told me never to show anyone?’ Betty’s memory was not very good, you see. She was quite senile by this point. She suggested that Milton ask Dorothy about the bank records.”

The prosecutor then asked, “Mrs. Green, were the bank records in view?”

“Yes. They were in a notebook on the desk in the same room where we all were.”

“And where was Mr. Frobish seated?”

“He was seated closest to the desk where the notebook was.”

“Did you see him leafing through the notebook and copying down the contents?”

“No, sir. It was the most peculiar thing. There was an open window next to the desk, and there was a draft coming in. The pages of the open notebook were slowly flipping over one by one, presumably by the draft from the window. We all saw them. Betty then asked Rosie—that’s Rosemary Kleinsmith, her granddaughter—to please close the window, which she did. Then the pages stopped flipping.”

“Thank you, Mrs. Green. No further questions.”

The judge turned to the defense attorney, who said, “I have no questions for this witness.”

The prosecutor called Rosie to the stand next, and she corroborated everything Esme had said. Again, no questions from the defense attorney.

The prosecutor then called Milton to the stand. “Mr. Frobish, could you please tell us why you went to see Betty Kleinsmith on June 8?”

“I had recently moved into the neighborhood and had heard several stories about how the HOA’s funds were being mismanaged. As an accountant by profession, I wanted to take a look at any financial records Mrs. Kleinsmith, the treasurer, was willing to show me.”

“Did you ask to see the bank records?”

“No. I only asked if she kept the bank records; I hadn’t yet gotten around to asking her if I could see them.”

“But you were sitting right next to them on the desk.”

“I had not looked at what was on the desk and did not know it was the bank records until the pages started flipping over. Then my attention was turned to the notebook.”

“So, they were in plain sight, available for anyone to look at?”

“Yes.”

The prosecutor went to his table, retrieved a sheaf of papers, and said, “Your Honor, I’d like to introduce this document as People’s Exhibit 1.”

“Granted.”

“Now, Mr. Frobish, do you recognize this document, sir?”

“Yes.”

“Could you tell us what it is?”

“Yes. It’s the monthly bank statements for the HOA’s checking account for the period of January 2024 through April 2025.”

“Where did it come from?”

“It was printed on my printer at home.”

“And how did you get ahold of the document to print it?”

“I availed myself of a photographic memory to memorize and later reproduce the pages of the document.”

There was a sudden stirring of the people in the courtroom at this fantastic pronouncement. Dorothy Clodfelter sprang to her feet and shouted, “He’s lying! No one can do that.”

The judge banged his gavel to bring order to the court. “Mrs. Clodfelter, we’ll have no more of that!”

“Listen, Judge. That’s bullshit. He stole those records somehow.”

“Mrs. Clodfelter, you’ll restrain yourself. You’ll keep a civil tongue in my courtroom. Another outburst like that, and I’ll hold you in contempt.”

She harumphed and sat down again, but she was seething inside.

“No further questions, Your Honor,” said the prosecutor.

The judge then called on the defense attorney to cross-examine Milton.

Holding the exhibit in his hands, he said, “Mr. Frobish, it is your contention that, in your words, ‘you availed yourself of a photographic memory’ to memorize this 32-page document merely by scanning the pages as the wind flipped them over in the notebook. Is that correct?”

“Yes.”

“How is that possible, sir? I don’t believe anyone can do that, yet you claim to be able to.”

“Yes, via a photographic memory.”

“Your Honor, like Mrs. Clodfelter, I believe he is lying. I would like to find out if he is truly capable of this incredible claim.”

“So would I,” said the judge.

“Your Honor, do you have available a document of some sort we could use as a test? I would be happy to let you select the document.”

“Certainly.” The judge pulled a book from a shelf beneath his bench entitled Judicial Handbook of Evidence. He handed this to the defense attorney and said, “Why don’t you have Mr. Frobish glance at, say, page 121 and recite it back?”

Geordie?

Right here, Milton. We’ll blow them away.

“Alright, Mr. Frobish. I’m going to allow you to see page 121 for three seconds, then I will return the text to the judge, and he can verify whether or not your recitation is correct. Are you ready?”

“Yes.”

The defense attorney found page 121 and held it out for Milton to see. Milton took only a cursory glance at the page and then looked away after a split second.

Did you get that, Geordie?

Got it.

The defense attorney handed the text back to the judge, who found the page and said, “Mr. Frobish, you may proceed with your recitation.”

With George reciting the words to him, he began:
 
"The fiduciary duty of loyalty requires that an officer or director of an organization act in the best interest of the entity and avoid conflicts of interest. This duty is breached when an individual uses their position to derive personal benefit at the expense of the organization. Embezzlement, as defined under common law, involves the fraudulent taking of property by a person to whom it has been entrusted. To prove embez—"
 
“Alright, Mr. Frobish. That was very impressive,” interrupted the judge with raised eyebrows. 

There was a general stirring in the courtroom, and the defense attorney looked stricken. Not to mention Dorothy Clodfelter, who appeared as if she were about to stroke out.

“Could you begin reciting again from the next-to-last paragraph on the page?” said the judge.

“Gladly.”
 
"In civil cases involving fraud, the plaintiff bears the burden of proof to establish, by preponderance of the evidence, that the defendant knowingly made a false representation of material fact with the intent to deceive and that the plaintiff relied on this misrepresentation to their detriment. While fraud and embezzlement share similarities, the former often involves broader deceptive practices, whereas the latter specifically pertains to the misappropriation of entrusted funds or assets."
 
“Absolutely 100% perfect,” said the judge with genuine admiration. “The motion to suppress is denied.”
 

 
2 chapters remaining
 

Author Notes
CHARACTERS



Milton Frobish: A meek 41-year-old accountant, who moves into an HOA with his brother, George.

George Frobish (Geordie): The 44-year-old invalid brother of Milton. After his death, George becomes a ghost that only Milton can see.

Esme Green (pronounced Ez-may): Milton's next-door neighbor. She is 75.

Dorothy Clodfelter: The president of the Riverwood HOA.

Penny Smalls: The vice president of the Riverwood HOA.

Betty Kleinsmith: The senile treasurer of the Riverwood HOA.

Rosemary Kleinsmith (Rosie): Betty's adult granddaughter. She is 35.

Irene Ferguson: Esme's next-door neighbor.

Robby Martel: Rosie's ex-husband.

Picture courtesy of Imagen-3


Chapter 25
Milton vs the HOA - Chapter 25

By Jim Wile

Recap of Chapter 24: Dorothy muses on her downfall and can’t accept that it was the inconsequential Milton Frobish who brought her down. A pre-trial hearing is held to determine if the bank records that reveal Dorothy’s malfeasance could be suppressed for seemingly (to Dorothy) having been obtained illegally.
 
The hearing is held, and both Esme and Rosie testify that the bank records were in full view of everyone at Betty’s house, and they watched the pages flipping over until Rosie closed the window. Milton also confirms this, but Dorothy’s defense attorney on cross questions how Milton could have memorized 32 pages in such a short time. Milton carefully words his reply so that he isn’t lying and says he “availed himself of a photographic memory,” meaning George’s, of course, whom no one but him can see or hear.
 
The defense lawyer decides to put it to a test, and, with George’s help, Milton is able to perfectly recite a passage selected at random by the judge, who then dismisses the motion to suppress.
 
 
Chapter 25
 
 
Throughout Milton’s recitation, Dorothy Clodfelter’s spirit sank like the Titanic as it took on water. All the lifeboats had left, though, and she remained onboard. Her best hope to survive unscathed had been to suppress the evidence, but that was now gone. It was likely only a matter of time until she slid into the freezing waters of her future.
 
A confused Penny Smalls, who was sitting next to her turned and said, “What just happened? Does that mean the bank records can be used at the trial?”

Dorothy gave her a withering look. She was about to come back with a sarcastic reply but reconsidered. She didn’t want to antagonize Penny at this point for fear she would confess everything and destroy any chance they might have to escape the ruin.

Instead, she said, “Let’s not lose hope. We can still try to pin it all on Betty. She isn’t around anymore to refute it. We’ve still got a good chance of prevailing.”

“I hope you’re right. I don’t know how I would survive in jail. They have to wear those awful orange jumpsuits. Orange is not my color at all.”

“Maybe you could request a blue one if it comes to that. You do look better in blue.” Dorothy couldn’t resist this jibe, which she didn’t think Penny would grasp. She also didn’t honestly think she could convince anyone that Betty was the fraudster. 

She held out a vague hope that the tie to the road repair company would go undetected. God knows she had set up enough intermediary companies to distance her from this shell corporation.

That goddamn Milton Frobish! But for him, none of this would have come to light, and her life wouldn’t be falling apart right now. What, if anything, could still be done about it? 
 
 
 

One evening in early December, a 6-inch snowstorm blanketed the area. It had been an early foray into the winter season, with a sudden freezing blast followed by temperatures back in the usual 40s by the following day. 

Since the HOA would no longer be employing the services of Preston Solutions for road work, Milton hired a snow plowing company to come plow the road in the morning. The company said they would return the next day if the snow hadn’t melted, as they hadn’t completed the sidewalks.

The road had been plowed well, and by late afternoon, it was quite clear and dry. Milton was going to have dinner down at Rosie’s house and decided to walk in the street since the sidewalk was slushy. He walked down the left side of the street to watch for oncoming cars as a pedestrian is supposed to.

Right at that time, Dorothy Clodfelter was returning from a meeting with her attorney, and she was in a foul mood. Her attorney had received the results of the sheriff’s department’s investigation through discovery, and the amount of evidence against her was overwhelming. They had been able to track through the myriad corporations Dorothy had set up to hide her embezzlement, and the picture was clear now of how she had been looting the HOA.

It was in this evil mood that she spotted Milton Frobish walking down the street as she was driving toward him. 

A fiendish gleam came into her eyes, and the worry that had plagued her countenance was suddenly replaced by a look of reckless abandon. With an uncontrollable urge, she stomped the accelerator to the floor, and her wheels spun until they grabbed the road and sent her car hurtling toward her unsuspecting nemesis with the intention of mowing him down.

Milton was musing about having dinner with his beloved and then working out one of the songs they would be suggesting to Chordially Yours when all of a sudden, he heard an engine rev and noticed a car with squealing tires suddenly bearing down on him. He stood there like a deer in the headlights, transfixed by this two-ton vehicle aiming right at him.

Geordie?

Stay where you are, Milton. It’s that infernal Dorothy Clodfelter trying to run you down. Don’t worry; I’ve got this.

Are you sure?

Don’t move!

As the car was rapidly approaching and got to within 30 feet of Milton, suddenly a patch of ice, which had not been there moments before, spread across the road in front of the car. When it hit the ice, the rear wheels spun out, and the whole car, which had accelerated to 60 mph, went into a massive skid, completely out of control. It narrowly missed Milton as it continued its skid toward the side of the road, where it jumped the curb and began flipping over and over down a hill on that side.

Milton heard it end in a crash, presumably against a tree at the bottom. He mounted the curb, rushed across the sidewalk, and looked down the hill. He saw that the car was upside down against a tree and had burst into flames upon impact. He ran down the hill and started to approach the car, but the flames were now raging out of control. He heard a scream from inside. He made one more effort to approach the car, but he quickly retreated as the heat and flames pouring out prevented any attempt at a rescue.

The agonized screaming inside lasted for another 20 seconds until suddenly there was silence, broken only by the crackling sounds of the fire that continued to burn for a long time after.
 
 
 

Milton stood there in a daze. This was the third death in the neighborhood he had been a party to in the few short months since he had moved here. Geordie, Betty, and now Dorothy would probably still be alive today if he had never moved in. It was a sobering thought, yet he didn’t feel responsible for any of their deaths. Maybe a little bit in Geordie’s, but Dorothy Clodfelter had been at the root of all of them.

Thanks for saving me, Geordie. Did you actually intend for her to die, though?

No, Milton. I was only attempting to make sure she didn’t hit you. You must not feel responsible in any way for this. I certainly don’t.

I don’t either. She tried to kill me. The punishment was perhaps harsh, but she brought it on herself. 

What do you suppose will happen now with her trial? I was hoping the HOA would be able to get some restitution from her, but that seems doubtful now.

Maybe not. Consult with your attorney about this. There may still be a way. And there’s always the trial against Penny Smalls and the attempts to get dues in arrears from those other four. Just because they were told they didn’t have to pay them doesn’t make it so.

Geordie, thanks again for saving my life from that maniac. I’ll never forget it.

You’re welcome, Brother.

I’d best call 911 now to report this.

Yes, and I’ll make sure that patch of ice is still there when they come, as well as a few others to allay any suspicion.

I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to get that screaming out of my head.

Seems like an appropriate end for someone who most likely will spend eternity in similar fashion. She just got a little preview of it first.
 
 
 

The final chapter will be posted on Monday.
 

Author Notes
CHARACTERS



Milton Frobish: A meek 41-year-old accountant, who moves into an HOA with his brother, George.

George Frobish (Geordie): The 44-year-old invalid brother of Milton. After his death, George becomes a ghost that only Milton can see.

Esme Green (pronounced Ez-may): Milton's next-door neighbor. She is 75.

Dorothy Clodfelter: The president of the Riverwood HOA.

Penny Smalls: The vice president of the Riverwood HOA.

Betty Kleinsmith: The senile treasurer of the Riverwood HOA.

Rosemary Kleinsmith (Rosie): Betty's adult granddaughter. She is 35.

Irene Ferguson: Esme's next-door neighbor.

Robby Martel: Rosie's ex-husband.

Picture courtesy of Imagen-3


Chapter 26
Milton vs the HOA - Chapter 26

By Jim Wile

Recap of Chapter 25: A winter storm blankets the area, and Milton has the street plowed, but the sidewalk wasn’t finished. As Dorothy drives home from her attorney’s office, she sees Milton walking in the street toward Rosie’s house. She has just received the bad news that the sheriff’s investigation had uncovered her complete embezzlement scheme, and she is in a foul mood. She snaps and, in a fit of anger, decides to run Milton down.
 
George tells Milton to stay where he is and creates an ice slick on the road, which causes Dorothy’s car to skid out of control and carom down a hill where she crashes into trees. This ignites her car, and she burns to death trapped inside.
 
Milton is shocked and ruminates on how she has largely contributed to three deaths in the neighborhood since he moved in. George tries to assure him that none of it was his fault. The chapter ends as Milton phones 911 to report the accident.
 
 
Chapter 26
 
 
Without Dorothy’s support, Penny Smalls lacked the courage to withstand a trial and accepted a plea bargain for the crimes of fraud and embezzlement. She would serve a jail term of three years and was ordered to pay restitution of $200,000 to the HOA. She would have to sell her house to raise that kind of money.

As George had suggested, Milton consulted with the HOA’s attorney to seek restitution from the estate of Dorothy Clodfelter. They brought a civil suit against the estate, and in the end, the estate owed $400,000 to the HOA. Much of this was obtained from the sale of her house at auction.

The four members of the clique who had not paid any dues for at least 10 years could only be assessed for back dues for the past four years due to the statute of limitations. These payments amounted to $13,000 apiece.

All told, the HOA eventually collected just over $650,000. The Board decided to give this money back to those from whom it had been stolen, and Milton determined an equitable way to do this. Most of the residents received restitution of close to $20,000. For all his efforts, Milton was owed less than $1,000 but took nothing.
 
 
 

Milton was able to negotiate a deal with the township to take possession of the private road the neighborhood owned and consequently the maintenance of it. This would afford the township access to a tract of land they’d had their eyes on for many years and would now be able to access with a branch off the Riverwood HOA’s road. This would eliminate the portion of the HOA’s dues for regular road maintenance as well as the special assessments for major road repairs.

Milton also asked the neighbors how many would be interested in getting rid of the swimming pool. Support for that was overwhelming. The average age of the neighbors was in the late 60s, and there were very few families with children. It was primarily a neighborhood of seniors, and most were not interested in maintaining a neighborhood pool.

In the end, the road and pool were gone, and a dues amount of only $100 a month was sufficient for the few remaining budgeted items. This represented a $200-a-month reduction from the previous amount, but the vastly lowered dues also had the long-term effect of creating a marked increase in the sale price of homes in the subdivision.
 
 
 

Milton was the hero of the neighborhood. He was universally loved by all and could expect to have the job of Board member and president of the HOA for as long as he wanted it.

Whenever he and Rosie would go for a walk through the neighborhood, the neighbors they encountered would always want to stop and talk. Milton knew everyone and felt comfortable talking with them.

One evening in early summer of 2026, he was sitting by himself on his porch when George came to him unbidden.

Milton, I think my job is done here.

Are you leaving me now, Geordie?

Not completely. You can still talk to me. I just won’t be answering back. The thing is, you don’t need me anymore, Brother.

I’m going to miss you, Geordie. I don’t think I would be as happy as I am today without your guidance.

I may have helped push you in the right direction, but it’s been all you, Milton. You are a very capable person; it just took you a little while to realize it. One piece of advice before I leave, though: You’ve got to marry Rosie. What are you waiting for? Propose to her.

Well, you’re right. I’ve known her for a whole year now, and I guess it’s time. I love her very much.

And she loves you too. You’ll be very happy together. And who knows? You might even start a family. You’re not too old for that.

I guess you’re right about that too. Any other words of advice before you leave?

Just this, Milton: Have faith in yourself. You’ve got a fine head on your shoulders and a good heart. I wish I would have been as good a person in life as you are and a better brother, but I was fortunate enough to have been given a chance to make amends. I’m hoping for the best now.

Thank you for everything, Geordie. I’ll always think fondly of you now. Best of luck wherever you’re going.

Goodbye, Brother. Maybe I’ll see you again one day.
 
 
 

I was waiting for George when he came again to the gate. “Well, George, it looks to me like you’ve successfully completed your mission. How do you feel about it?”

“I’m eternally grateful that I was given the chance to make—”

“Excuse me, excuse me,” interrupted a tall woman who came striding up to the gate. “I’m not sure I made the correct turn back there. It wasn’t marked at all. How the hell are you supposed to know which way to go?”

“Hello, Dorothy. I’m afraid you turned the wrong way. You must go back to where the road forked and take the other branch. This way is closed to you, but you’ll be welcome if you go the other way. They’ve been waiting for you.”

“Great. Do you know if they have a pool over that way? I do enjoy swimming.”

“Oh, yes. There are plenty of pools, alright. Bye now.”

I turned back to George as she sauntered away. “She may be a tad disappointed to find out they are all lava pools. But getting back to your answer, I believe you were about to confess that you had been an awful brother during your lifetime, but that you were grateful for the chance to make amends by helping your brother become the man he was always meant to be. Is that correct?”

“Exactly so. And now I’m ready for whatever you decide my fate should be.”

“I think you’ve earned your place now, George. Welcome aboard.” With that, I opened the gate and let him in.
 
 
 

As for Milton, he indeed proposed to Rosie, and she accepted. Over the coming years, they had two children together—two girls—and Milton became a doting father.

Chordially Yours had many gigs, and with Rosie in the lead, they were a very popular group.

Milton’s battle with the HOA became a distant memory, and he remained as the beloved president for many years. He was happy to serve and was proud of his neighborhood. Neighbors would often see him strolling the grounds, picking up a piece of litter here, pulling a weed there, and they knew they were in good hands with him at the helm.

What Milton had learned about an HOA was that it was as good as the people living in it and the people running it. Ask Jim Wile, who’s been president of his HOA for nine years and counting. He’ll tell you the same.
 
 
 
The End

Author Notes Many thanks to all of you who have followed this story. It has been my great pleasure to share it with you, and I am thrilled with the response to it. I truly appreciate the time you invested reading and reviewing the chapters and providing me with feedback. It's always very helpful to see how things are being perceived and receive your suggestions for improvement.

At this time, I haven't decided what my next novel will be or when I might begin writing it. I've tossed around the idea of another sequel to the "Devil" stories and even wrote a few chapters of it, but I haven't decided yet on whether to continue that.

Once again, thanks to all of you who have been with me during this story. - Jim

One of thousands of stories, poems and books available online at FanStory.com

You've read it - now go back to FanStory.com to comment on each chapter and show your thanks to the author!



© Copyright 2015 Jim Wile All rights reserved.
Jim Wile has granted FanStory.com, its affiliates and its syndicates non-exclusive rights to display this work.

© 2015 FanStory.com, Inc. All Rights Reserved. Terms under which this service is provided to you. Privacy Statement