She quietly lifted Ralph's jacket off the back of the settee where he slept and wrapped herself in it, then went onto the front porch to sit on the steps and sip her tea. The porch looked very different without any railing. Ralph had removed all traces of Immy's handy-woman project. It was a neat, clean look, but dangerous. Without a guardrail, a person could fall off and drop to the ground below. Not very far, but there was that pile of jagged, broken wood from the posts Immy had removed. When the railing was replaced, Immy would shop around for a couple of outdoor rockers for the front porch. There were hooks at one end of the porch for a swing, so maybe she'd look for one of those, too. The early morning air was damp and quiet. Traffic noises floated up from the distance, muffled and almost soothing. No one wanted her to help Dewey out. Except, presumably, Dewey. She didn't--couldn't--think he was as bad as everyone said he was.
