Dexie stepped into the Palmer house and, once again, felt as though she’d gone back in time. Nothing had changed in the house in the last ten years… except Millie Palmer was no longer there. Everything from the worn, dingy carpet to the mismatched furniture, and the faded curtains was utterly the same as when Dexie had been a child. Stacks of books and magazines littered the tables and plants older than her still hung from the ceiling in faded macramé. Even the smell of pipe tobacco mingled with the memory of freshly baked cookies permeated the air. How the hell one single place could be lived in and yet never seem to change flummoxed Dexie. Even her apartment, sparse as it had been, had shown signs of movement and change.
A shudder ran through Dexie as she fought the strange sensation of time stopping once more. Dray placed his warm hand in the small of her back and gently led her to the right, into the great room where Drake Palmer sat with his pipe clamped in his teeth. The ten years she’d been gone had not been kind to Drake. His once vital body had withered, with leathery, tissue-thin skin and atrophied muscles. Where a thinning pate of salt and pepper hair had once been combed neatly, a shiny, bald head with the barest of white fringe could be seen. Drake looked up from the Reader’s Digest he was reading when he heard them approach. Dexie felt a thrill of relief when the man’s green eyes met hers, showing the same intelligence, warmth, and compassion he’d had when she’d been a regular visitor.
“Well, Dexie. Glad to see you’ve come home at long last.” Drake smiled. “I’m sorry about Elaine, she will be sorely missed.”
“Hello, Mr. Palmer. How have you been?” Dexie greeted taking the hand that Drake offered her. He patted her hand gently with shaking hands and sighed.
“Older, grumpier, and falling apart. The joints have gone to hell and eyesight’s about shot. But I can’t complain.” The old man snorted causing Dray to roll his eyes and Dexie to snicker. The he looked up at his son, his expression sobering. “Dray, Tabby Brightman called late this morning. They’re holding an emergency council meeting tonight at seven at the high school. Seems Dexie’s little adventure with Brent has folks all sorts of riled up. I hope you gave him hell, Dex.”
“I tried, Mr. Palmer,” Dexie replied tiredly. “Dray, the bathroom is still…?”
“Yep,” Dray nodded.
“Excuse me,” Dexie murmured. She was bone tired, but there was no doubt in her mind that she’d have to attend that council meeting.
“I suppose everyone is looking for the latest gossip about what happened,” Dexie heard Dray grumble as she opened the bathroom door a few minutes later. Walking slowly back to the great room, she tucked her hands into her back pockets and smiled crookedly as she gazed at the years-large collection of family photos that lined the wall housing the staircase.
“Of course. But you have to be there to make sure the rumors don’t get out of hand.” Drake reasoned. Dexie stepped around the stairs and entered the great room where Dray sat on the ancient couch near his father.
“Your dad is right. And unfortunately, I have to be there too. Brent’s chokehold on this town needs to end, and now is the time to make that happen.” Dexie stated as she sat next to Dray.
“Dex, you need to rest. You just got out of the hospital…” Dray protested.
“Let’s face it, Dray. I’m the only one with the evidence that the council will need and the only one with the financial means to fight Brent. The council needs to cut the cord with Brent while he is powerless to stop them. Because he won’t stay in prison forever, no matter how convincing Ivan’s argument is to lock him up and toss the key.” Dexie grimaced.
“She’s right, son. The Harrington’s have been using Peace as their personal toy for years and it needs to stop.” Drake reminded. “Dexie, you’re a brave lady, taking on the Harrington’s. And I’m glad you’ll make a full recovery.”
“The McBride’s have always had to keep the Harrington’s in check if the stories my dad used to tell are true,” Dexie shrugged.
“But Dex…” Dray continued to object.
“Dray, the reason I came back was to put the garbage with Brent to rest. I have to see it through no matter how crappy I feel or look.” Dexie reasoned.
“I agree with Dexie. I think we need to be there to back her up.” Drake added.
“Are you still on the council, Mr. Palmer?” Dexie asked.
“No, Dray won my seat when I retired, much to Brent’s disgust. He wanted Alan Burke to win it.” Drake shook his head.
“Of course he would. Nothing like filling the council with his dad’s stooges.” Dexie snorted.
“Fine. You two win. We should probably plan to go early so we don’t cause more of a scene than necessary. But if we’re going to do this, then Dexie, you need to eat and get some rest beforehand.” Dray growled inflexibly.
“I can do that,” Dexie agreed.