Free 1 Lowcountry Boil by Susan M. Boyer

you to come over to the town offices and escort Humphrey home.” Clay Cooper was Blake’s second in command.
    I resumed trying to reason with my sister. “Hell’s bells, Merry. Half the people in this town are from somewhere else. Folks from the mainland brought us cappuccino, Pad Thai, and designer hair color.”
    “People without history here see things differently,” Merry said.
    Public nudity crisis handled, Blake rejoined the conversation. “It’s only a matter of time before someone whose great-grandfather was born elsewhere is elected to the council. Maybe we should let some new folks fool with it for a while.”
    “She’s just trying to hedge her bets with this gangbanger scheme of hers.”
    “Think what you want,” Merry said. “Just remember this: I care enough about what happens here to do something about it. You’ll be back in Greenville by this time next week. Maybe you should run for city council up there.”
    “This is just as much my home as it is yours. And if you think for one minute—”
    “Don’t you live in a loft in downtown Greenville?” Merry interrupted.
    Blake must have felt us regaining our momentum. “Liz, Merry isn’t going to do anything that would hurt this island. She lives here, too.”
    I was getting cranky at the repeated reference to where everybody lived. Hadn’t I just moved home? “I love this island just as much as the two of you. And you’re both crazy if you think that hauling a hundred members of rival gangs who have been convicted of violent crimes over here won’t hurt anything.”
    “I didn’t say that. Merry?” Blake tilted his head and looked expectantly at her.
    She examined her nails.
    He exhaled loudly and looked heavenward for answers. When none were forthcoming, he lowered his gaze to meet mine. “Just because she has a proposal doesn’t mean she shouldn’t be on town council. She’d still just have one vote.”
    “The idea of developing Devlin’s Point just turns my stomach, and I can’t imagine opening up our home to that kind of risk.”
    “ Whose home?” Merry goaded me once more for good measure.
    “ My home,” I ground out through squared jaw. “ I’ll take the seat,” I said. “I own property here. And I moved in yesterday.”
    Without a backward glance to either of them, I stalked down the hall, knocked twice on the conference room door, and let myself in without waiting for an invitation.
    “…we have to seat a volunteer from the Simmons—” Lincoln stopped talking and they all stared at me.
    “Well, now you have two volunteers,” I said.
    Lincoln, Michael, Robert, John, and Grace all turned to Daddy.
    Daddy sat there for a minute, staring at nothing in particular, doing this thing with his hand that he always does when he’s considering something real carefully. He held his palm at a right angle and made a chopping motion on the table. Right, left, right left. Back and forth. Finally he looked at Lincoln. “Liz is older, and she inherited the Simmons estate. I move that we fill Mamma’s council seat by appointing Elizabeth to her unexpired term.”
    Robert nodded. “I second the motion.”
    “Any discussion?” Lincoln asked.
    No one said a word.
    “Well, then,” Lincoln said, “all in favor?”
    By unanimous vote, I became a council member. I took a seat at the table. “I’d like to make a motion myself.”
    Lincoln gestured for me to proceed.
    “I move we table the rest of tonight’s business and adjourn so that I can educate myself on other matters before the council.”
    Daddy seconded my motion, and it also passed unanimously. No one, it seemed, was eager to discuss fellowship halls, orphanages, or jails. I braced myself to face my sister as we filed out of the conference room.
    But the lobby was deserted.

TEN

    After throwing the first Tuesday of every month on the bonfire of my sister’s insanity, I was starving. I zipped over to The Pirates’ Den — the restaurant John and Alma Glendawn owned