Saints and Sinners

Chapter Twelve

The Rosen Estate

Sanibel Island

Florida

"I only just managed to get a flight out of there...it's just bloody chaos?" Jake Palmer said as he accepted a beer from his uncle. They were out on the porch in the cool of the evening with televisions visible in both the office and the drawing room, allowing them to keep an eye on the latest news. Fletcher was inevitably smoking.

"Yeah...having Mr Connor Symonds in Washington has made it something of a focal point for trouble?" Fletcher suggested, not exactly displeased by the total chaos he seemed to have caused. The British announcement of their new national government was not a surrender as such, because it was clearly a wolf in sheep's clothing, but it was an unfurling of the white flag, he thought, and another step in the right direction.

"Nothing is working...Hardwicke headed back to Chicago and I thought that I might as well head home until it all calms down."

"That might take a while," Gideon Palmer told his son, glad to have him home.

"I'd love to know what is going on in London right now...how the public is reacting to the broadcast?" Fletcher said, glancing into the drawing room, where Caris and Brianna were settled on the big sofa, watching a repeat of Bateman's statement. "Poor old Bill has backed the wrong horse...he is going to struggle to get things through the Senate after this?"

"I can't see the convent hospital in Boston opening any time soon?" Jake commented as he took a seat, his phone in his other hand, checking messages. "Are you taking much heat over spilling the beans?"

"Surprisingly enough, no...Delacorte seemed quite pleased and she is no fan of Bateman's either," Fletcher grinned before taking a swig of beer. "Something had to be done to break the standoff, and I did it...a Nobel prize winning intervention, maybe?"

"Such a team player?" Palmer said sarcastically, and Jake grinned, used to their banter and easy camaraderie. "Brett hasn't called in a while...have you seen much of him?"

"You're kidding, right? Brett is right in the middle of Bateman's Reformist enclave at the heart of the White House...he is always with Procter, or Connor Symonds...the affordable healthcare project was the big first hundred days achievement Bateman was counting on, so I would imagine they are up to their necks in it, right now? I am not welcome anywhere near there?"

"He has provided us with some good information lately." Fletcher said, lighting up again and tossing the pack to Gideon Palmer.

"Yeah...I know...and that's great...but he is in really deep...all of a sudden...with Grace right there?" Jake frowned, keeping his voice down as he glanced at his mother, not wanting to worry her.

"She knows what she is doing, Jake?" Palmer suggested, frowning back, sensing that his son wanted to say more.

"I am not so sure...what Bateman is doing in Washington isn't like Boston...it's more like a Presidential court, with the ladies parading into chapel every morning...and Grace is right there with Mena, Mrs Symonds and Mrs Bateman...Brett is well thought of...and I guess Grace has to look authentic...but it all looks a bit much to me?"

Brianna heard every word, as always. Her family tended to forget that she had been fully-equipped by her father, and that her hearing remained perfect, even though most of the hard functionality had been disabled. Grace had not called for over a week, which was not totally unusual, because she was obviously socialising a lot, as Jake had just confirmed. Grace had to be careful about contacting her parents, because she was supposed to be the black sheep of the family to a certain extent, having married a man who Gideon Palmer was unlikely to have much in common with. And she was staying with the Procters, under the control of their keepers, so she might be struggling to make a call, but that was where Brett should be helping her, Brianna thought, by making it possible.