I did the math at my kitchen table that night after Birdie went to bed. That’s what I do when I’m scared. I make columns.
I had $14,200 left in my savings account. That was supposed to be my emergency fund. The furnace was eleven years old. The roof was going to need work in a couple of years. Birdie needed new glasses. I’d been putting money aside for all of it.
$3,600 would take a quarter of it. And the fines were still going up. Fifty dollars every day the crow came back.
I called a lawyer from the Idaho State Bar referral line. He listened for five minutes and told me a consultation would cost $250 an hour. He said HOA disputes “can get expensive quickly” and that most people just paid.
I called the property management company the HOA used, Summit Community Management. I left four voicemails. Nobody called back.
I wrote a long, polite letter to the Board, explaining about Caleb, and Birdie, and the crow, and asking for a hearing. I hand-delivered a copy to every board member’s mailbox.
I got one email back. From Harold Dennison.
The Board has reviewed your request and declines to waive the fines. The rule exists for the benefit of the entire community. Please remit payment to Pell & Associates.
That was it. Two sentences.
I sat at the table with my columns and my calculator and cried until two in the morning. Then I made a decision.
The next morning, I sat Birdie down at the kitchen table.
“Sweetheart, we have to stop feeding Edgar. For real this time. If we don’t, the HOA might try to take our house.”
Her eyes got huge. “Our house? Daddy’s tree house?”
That’s what she called it. Daddy’s tree house. Because of the cottonwood.
“Yes, baby.”
She was quiet for a long time. She stared at the treasure jar on the windowsill. Then she got up, walked to the pantry, took out the jar of peanuts, and handed it to me.
“Hide it,” she said. “Hide it where I can’t find it. Because I’ll want to.”
My brave girl. I put it in the top of my bedroom closet behind the winter blankets.
That was on a Thursday.
Edgar came Friday morning at seven-fifteen. He sat on the railing. Birdie didn’t go to the window. She sat at the table with her back turned and ate her cereal with tears dripping into it.
Edgar waited for an hour. Then he flew away.
On Saturday, my daughter disappeared.
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