Chapter 43
Mac
The air conditioner was broken again, a low, rattling hum that did nothing to cut through the stifling heat generated by three hundred bodies packed into a room meant for one-fifty.
People were lined up against the wood-paneled walls, standing on tiptoes.
It wasn’t just the regulars. It was the hockey moms, the fishermen who usually skipped town politics, and even Old Joe from the gas station, wiping sweat from his forehead with a grease-stained rag.
"This is way more people than usually come to town meetings," Luke observed, looking around at the crowd filing in. "Last time I went to one of these, there were like twenty people total and half of them were asleep."
"That's because last time the most controversial topic was whether to repaint the gazebo," Tyler said flatly. "This time we're publicly destroying a man's career. Much more entertaining."
"That's a cynical way to put it," Luke said.
"That's an accurate way to put it," Tyler corrected.
Jamie was already at the front, setting up his laptop and projector with the manic focus of someone who'd consumed too much coffee and not enough sleep. His presentation was loaded, triple-checked, and ready.
Cole stood near the stage. Ellie beside him looked terrified but determined, holding a thick folder of documentation.
Sophie was setting up chairs.
And Rachel—
Rachel sat alone in the third row, staring at her speech notes, her hands shaking.
Mac crossed to her immediately.
"Hey," Mac said quietly, sliding into the seat beside her. "How are you feeling?"
"Terrified. Nauseous. Convinced I'm going to throw up on stage." Rachel looked up at him with wide, scared eyes. "Mac, what if I freeze? What if I can't do this?"
"Then I'll be right there. I'll take over. You won't be alone up there."
"You can't do my speech for me—"
"I can if you need me to." Mac took her hand carefully, waiting to see if she'd pull away. She didn't. "Rachel, you're about to stand in front of the entire town and tell your truth. That takes more courage than anything I've ever done on the ice."
"Hockey players get hit with sticks and pucks. That's pretty brave."
"Hockey players wear padding. You're going up there with nothing but your truth and your voice." Mac squeezed her hand.
Rachel squeezed back, then pulled away gently. Still not fully forgiven, but connected.
Mrs. Henderson appeared beside them, wearing her most formal cardigan and carrying what looked like an entire briefcase of notes.
"Rachel, dear, I've prepared a statement of support for Ellie. Three pages, single-spaced, footnoted." Mrs. Henderson's expression was fierce. "If that man thinks he can come into my town and destroy good people, he's severely underestimated the power of an old woman with research skills."
Despite her terror, Rachel smiled. "Thank you, Mrs. Henderson."
"Don't thank me yet. Wait until we eviscerate him publicly." Mrs. Henderson patted Rachel's shoulder. "You're going to do wonderfully tonight, dear. And afterward, I expect you and Mac to work out your issues like adults instead of moping around the library looking tragic."
She walked away before either of them could respond.
"She's terrifying," Mac said.
"She's the best," Rachel agreed.
Rachel
The community center was packed. Every seat filled, people standing along the walls, more filtering in through the doors.
Rachel sat in the third row between Mac and Sophie, her heart pounding so hard she could barely hear the mayor calling the meeting to order.
And there he was. Front row.
In a room full of flannel, Carhartt jackets, and worn Eagles jerseys, Derek Matthews looked like a shark in a goldfish pond.
His suit didn’t have a wrinkle. His hair was gelled into submission.
He wasn't sweating like the rest of them.
He sat with one ankle crossed over his knee, scrolling on his phone, looking bored.
Like this wasn't a town fighting for its soul, but a minor inconvenience in his schedule.
When he turned and caught Rachel’s eye, he didn't scowl. He didn't look angry. He smiled. It was a small, pitying thing, the kind of smile you give a child who has dropped their ice cream.
I’ve already won, that smile said. And you look ridiculous trying to stop me.
Her stomach churn.
Derek turned, caught her eye, and smiled.
I'm going to ruin you again, that smile said.
Mac's hand found Rachel's under the armrest. Grounding her.
The mayor, Bill Henderson, Mrs. Henderson's husband and a man in his sixties with a no-nonsense expression, stood at the podium.
"Good evening, everyone. Thank you for attending tonight's town meeting. Our primary agenda is the proposed recreation center expansion—"
"Mayor Henderson," Derek stood smoothly, his voice professionally pleasant. "I apologize for interrupting. But given the crowd size tonight, I believe many people are here to discuss the recent controversy regarding Mrs. Hansen's physical therapy practice. Perhaps we should address that first?"
Murmurs of agreement rippled through the crowd.
Mayor Henderson frowned. "Dr. Matthews, the agenda—"
"I understand. But I think addressing the community's concerns about athletic safety and professional standards should take precedence. Don't you?" Derek's smile was maddening. "Unless the council is trying to avoid difficult conversations?"
More murmurs. Louder now.
Mayor Henderson exchanged a look with Mrs. Henderson in the front row. She gave a subtle nod.
"Very well," Mayor Henderson said, his tone suggesting he knew exactly what Derek was doing. "The floor is open for discussion regarding the complaint filed against Mrs. Ellie Hansen's physical therapy practice. Mrs. Hansen, would you like to begin?"
Ellie stood, walked to the podium with her folder, and faced the packed room.
"Thank you, Mayor Henderson. And thank you all for being here tonight.
" Ellie's posture shifted, shoulders back.
" Five days ago, he filed a formal complaint with the Vermont Physical Therapy Board that resulted in my license being temporarily suspended.
Three days ago, Dr. Derek Matthews published an article in a medical journal questioning my qualifications and suggesting my treatment of my husband Cole Hansen was either luck or malpractice. "
Gasps and murmurs.
"Tonight, I'm going to show you exactly who Derek Matthews is. What he's done. And why his accusations are not just false, they're part of a systematic pattern of destroying physical therapists who threaten his ego."
Derek stood immediately. "Mayor Henderson, I must object. This sounds like a personal attack rather than a professional discussion—"
"Dr. Matthews, you'll have your turn to speak," Mayor Henderson said firmly. "Mrs. Hansen has the floor."
Derek stood abruptly, his professional mask slipping. "Mr. Mayor, this is ridiculous. I could just walk out of here."
He started gathering his coat and briefcase, making a show of leaving.
Mayor Henderson's voice cut through the room like ice. "You could walk out, Dr. Matthews. That's certainly your right. But I wonder; how would that look on the front page of the Boston Globe tomorrow morning?"
Derek froze, his hand on his briefcase.
"Local sports medicine doctor flees town hall meeting rather than face questions about his professional conduct,'" Mayor Henderson continued. "I imagine that's the kind of headline that would interest quite a few people. Medical boards. Hospital administrators."
Rachel watched Derek's mask crack completely for just a second, pure panic flashing across his face before he forced the professional smile back into place.
"That sounds like a threat, Mayor Henderson," Derek said, his voice tight.
"Not a threat. An observation." Mayor Henderson leaned back in his chair. "You came to our town. You published an article attacking one of our own. You filed complaints with licensing boards. So now you get to stand here and answer for it."
Derek's expression locked. He looked around the packed room, hundreds of faces watching him, cameras recording, the local news crew in the back with their equipment running.
If he walked out now, he'd look guilty. Cowardly. Like a man running from the truth.
If he stayed, he'd have to face whatever evidence they had.
Rachel watched the calculation happen in Derek's eyes, pride warring with self-preservation.
Finally, Derek sat back down, setting his briefcase beside him with deliberate care.
"Fine," Derek said. "I'll stay. But I expect the opportunity to respond to these... accusations."
"You'll get your chance," Mayor Henderson said.
Mac's hand squeezed hers under the armrest. Derek was trapped. He had to sit there and listen to the town.
Ellie pulled out her thick folder of documentation, her hands shaking slightly but her voice growing stronger.
"Dr. Matthews questioned my credentials in his article.
So let me be very clear." Ellie opened the folder, holding up certificates and licenses.
"Masters in Physical Therapy from UVM. Board certification in orthopedic physical therapy.
Advanced sports rehabilitation certification.
Over two hundred hours of continuing education in five years. "
She clicked to her presentation, detailed treatment notes, methodology, protocols.
"Dr. Matthews suggested my treatment of Cole was 'questionable' and 'potentially dangerous.' Here's what I actually did."
Rachel could see Cole in the front row, his jaw tight, reliving the diagnosis.
"Cole came to me with a severe rotator cuff tear.
Two orthopedic surgeons told him surgery was risky, recovery difficult, his career likely over.
Best case: basic function. Worst case: permanent damage.
" Ellie's voice strengthened. "I reviewed his case thoroughly, consulted specialists, researched current protocols.
I created an aggressive but careful plan.
Every session documented. Every decision justified. Every risk assessed."