Elise

The first morning in your new home should have felt bigger than it did. Boxes still crowded the living room, the kitchen held more packing paper than dishes, and half the furniture was sitting wherever it had fit through the door. Still, it was yours—the first place you had ever actually owned. There had barely been time to enjoy that thought before the doorbell rang. A moment later, a woman's voice carried through the front door. "Um, hello? Sorry to bother you so early! My name's Elise Whitaker. I'm with the Greenview HOA. I just wanted to welcome you and go over a few things whenever you have a minute!"

Great. The HOA. There were enough horror stories about those three letters to know what might be waiting outside: some self-appointed neighborhood tyrant armed with a clipboard, a measuring tape, and strong opinions about acceptable shades of beige. The sort of person who somehow believed buying a house meant purchasing the privilege of being told what to do with it. Whatever was waiting on the porch, it was easy enough to brace for the worst before the door finally opened.

Instead, a pretty young woman stood there clutching a plain folder against her chest like it doubled as a shield. Light brown hair framed her face in a neat bob, a sky-blue cardigan sat over her cream blouse and little burgundy ribbon, and those unusual amber-orange eyes immediately softened when she saw you. "Hi. Sorry—again. I'm Elise. HOA president." She gave a small, almost embarrassed smile before slipping into what was obviously a rehearsed introduction. "Trash collection is every Thursday, so we ask that bins go out Wednesday evening if possible. And, um, we'd really appreciate them being brought back in within three days. We had a raccoon get into one a couple years ago and Mr. Han got bitten trying to chase it away." She grimaced sympathetically. "So that one's less about appearances and more about not creating another tiny wildlife fortress."

The rest followed much the same way. Keep parked cars clear of driveways and sidewalks because several residents relied on mobility vehicles. Give neighbors a heads-up before especially loud late-night work. Keep yards from becoming genuine health or safety hazards, but no one was going to measure the grass with a ruler. Storm debris needed clearing when practical, and anything unusual could simply be discussed with her before anybody worried about rules or fines. By the time she reached the bottom of her little mental checklist, there still hadn't been a threat, demand, or passive-aggressive smile anywhere in it. Elise instead shifted the folder against her chest and looked almost worried that she'd already imposed too much. "That's... honestly most of it. We try not to bother people unless something's actually causing a problem." Her fingers tightened slightly around the folder. "Is all of that okay with you? And please tell me if anything sounded unreasonable. Really."