Maggy opened her eyes and smiled. “Relax, Mom. I’m tired. Not sick. I tested my blood, ate, took my meds. I’m fine. Is it time to go?”
“Yeah,” Riley said. “Good job, kiddo. Let’s go get some sleep. Tomorrow’s moving day.”
63
Roo was pouring herself a mug of coffee when Riley walked into the kitchen Friday morning. Riley peered out the window. The rain seemed to be slacking off, but the sky was an odd chromium color. Fallen leaves littered the grass, and the surface of the bay, below the bluff, was gray, with a light chop.
“What’s the status of the storm, Roo?” Riley asked.
“Do not encourage her, Riley,” Evelyn said as she buttered an English muffin. “She hasn’t stopped looking at that silly satellite map since yesterday. She’s like a child with a shiny new toy.”
“It stalled overnight over Puerto Rico,” Roo said, ignoring her sister-in-law. “Jim Cantore is predicting that it’s going to head out to sea by noon, but there’s this renegade weather blogger I follow—he calls himself StormKing007, and he says he sees a lot of similarities between Brody and Hurricane Fran.”
“Roo!” Evelyn said sharply. “I want you to stop talking like an alarmist old fool. You forget, we were all here for Fran in ninety-six, and this is nothing like that. It’s just some rain and wind, and that’s all.”
She turned to Riley. “I went to bed early last night, so I didn’t even hear you come in. Where were you and Maggy last night?”
“We were at Billy’s,” Riley said, deciding to leave it at that. “Scott got in around eight thirty, so Billy fixed us a late dinner. Then we came back here and went to bed. Has Maggy come downstairs yet?”
“About thirty minutes ago,” Evelyn said. “She had some cereal and juice, and then she was going to ride her bike over to the club to meet her friends.”
Riley shook her head. “I don’t like her being out on her bike when it’s been storming like this.”
“That’s what I told her,” Evelyn said. “But she just laughed me off and said she wouldn’t melt if a little rain fell on her.”
“Did you notice if she took her backpack?” Riley asked.
“Oh, yes. She had it, and I made her show me her kit before she left,” Evelyn said.
Roo’s radio gave off a shrill beep. She picked it up, and a computer-generated male voice floated into the room.
“The National Weather Service has issued a hurricane watch for the eastern seaboard of the United States ranging from Jacksonville, Florida, to Norfolk, Virginia. Latest tracking information generated by storm-tracking flights indicates that Tropical Storm Brody has been upgraded to hurricane status, with heavy rain and intensifying winds up to ninety miles an hour. Residents of these affected areas are encouraged to monitor the situation on an hourly basis, and residents of coastal and low-lying areas should begin emergency preparations, in the event that evacuation becomes necessary.”
“Who’s an alarmist old fool now?” Roo said smugly.
“It’s just a watch, not a warning,” Evelyn said, but a note of uncertainty had crept into her voice. “But I guess we’d better start getting the storm shutters out, just in case.”
Riley picked up her phone to reach Maggy, but the call went directly to voice mail. “She’s not answering her phone,” she said, trying to sound calmer than she felt. “I’m going to take the golf cart and go look for her. In the meantime, Mama, don’t you think we need to see about getting off the island before things get worse?”
“Now, look,” Evelyn said. “I have lived on this island all my life. Every year during hurricane season we get these alerts. And nothing ever pans out. We’ll do the smart thing. I’ll call my handyman and get him to come over and put up the storm shutters. I’ve got plenty of bottled water and flashlights and batteries and candles, and enough food in our freezer to feed most of this island. You just go get Maggy and get her back here.”
“And I’ll have my weather radio right here,” Roo said, patting it like a beloved pet.
* * *
When she got to the club Riley walked quickly around the pool. The lifeguards were scurrying around, taking down umbrellas and removing anything from the pool deck that could take sail in strong winds. She waved down the head lifeguard, Rachel, a cheerful college senior who’d worked at the club every summer since her early teens.
“Rachel, have you seen Maggy or any of those kids she hangs around with today?”
“Yeah, they were here a little while ago, but they left when they saw that the snack bar wasn’t open and I told them the pool was closing.” She pointed past the pool deck. “I saw them riding their bikes toward the village. I bet they went to the Mercantile to get something to eat.”
It was only a five-minute ride from the club to the Mercantile in the village, but during that time the rain had started up again, and now the wind was blowing. It might not be a hurricane yet, but this was definitely not just a passing summer storm. She glanced in the direction of the ferry landing and noticed that the ferry was just departing for the thirty-minute trip across the sound.
The smell of fresh-ground coffee beans and bakery goods wafted through the air in the Mercantile. It was busy, with every seat taken in the café, and dozens of people wandering the aisles, picking up gourmet groceries and staples. But none of the customers included Maggy or any other young teens.
She spotted Annie Milas at the cash register in the café.
“Hi, Annie. I’m looking for Maggy. Did you happen to see her or the Billingsley kids this morning?”
“They came in and bought some cupcakes and Cokes about twenty minutes ago,” Annie said. “I heard them say they were taking everything down to the beach for a hurricane party.”
“Good Lord,” Riley said.
“Yeah,” Annie said. “Only a bunch of kids who’ve never lived through an actual hurricane would think it’s an occasion for a party.”
“Are y’all gonna stay open?” Riley asked. “I was just at the club, they’ve closed the pool, and I saw a sign on the door that the grill is closed, too.”
“We’ll stay open at least until the end of the day, or the food runs out, whichever comes first,” Annie said. “We’ve had a big run on the prepared stuff from the deli and bakery this morning, so I think a lot of folks are thinking they’ll ride out the storm. What about you folks? I bet your mama isn’t scared of a hurricane.”
“Evelyn still thinks it’s just a false alarm,” Riley admitted. “But I have to say, it makes me nervous. Has there been a rush of folks taking the ferry back to the mainland today?”
“Way more than we’d expect for the Friday of Labor Day weekend,” Annie said. “But you know, a lot of people are still arriving. I guess they’ve made plans for the weekend, and they don’t intend to let a hurricane watch run ’em off.”
“Speaking of hurricanes, I guess I better go round up my daughter.”
“How’s Maggy doing now?” Annie asked. “I know you had a bad scare about six weeks ago.”
Had Nate told her the details of their breakup? Annie’s face was neutral.
“She’s much better. Thanks for asking. And I hope that’s the last time I ever have to take a helicopter off this island.”
“Me, too,” Annie said. “Y’all stay safe.”
* * *
She decided to try Maggy’s phone one more time.
“Hey, Mom,” her daughter said. She sounded out of breath.
“Did you see I’ve been trying to call you?” Riley said, trying to dial down her anxiety level.
“Sorry. I left my phone in the basket of my bike. I’m down at the beach with the kids. We’re having a hurricane party.”
“They’ll have to have it without you,” Riley said.
“Mom,” Maggy protested. “I’m fine. I’ve got my kit, and I’ve taken my insulin.…”
“This is not about diabetes,” Riley said. “And don’t you dare accuse me of being a helicopter mom. There’s a hurricane warning
out, and I want you at home in case we have to evacuate.”
“You mean leave? And miss the storm?”
“That’s exactly what I mean,” Riley said. “I’ll wait for you in the parking lot at the Mercantile. If you’re not here in ten minutes you’ll be on restriction for the rest of the weekend. Possibly the rest of your life.”
* * *
“Where are we going?” Maggy asked, after they’d strapped her bike to the back of Evelyn’s golf cart.
“To the new house,” Riley said. “I want to make sure I remembered to close all the windows last night and see if there’s anything outside that might go flying if this storm hits.”
They walked through the house, closing the windows she’d left open in the bathroom and Maggy’s bedroom, and walked around the front- and backyard, picking up anything that might take flight and stashing it in a tool shed at the back of the house.
“Are we going to spend the night here tonight?” Maggy asked. “It doesn’t smell nearly as bad now. And it looks kind of pretty inside, now that it’s clean.”
Riley looked around the living room. With the rug cleaned and vacuumed, the walls washed down, and the slipcovers washed and smoothed out, the room had a certain shabby cottage charm that it hadn’t possessed initially.
“Hmm. We’ll see. Like I said, if this storm gets worse, we won’t stay on the island at all.”
“You’re no fun,” Maggy said. “Mimi said this morning she doesn’t care what happens. She’s not leaving Shutters.”
“Mimi seems to have forgotten what it was like to live through Hurricane Fran.”
“Were you here then?”
“I was,” Riley said, her voice grim. “We had a direct hit on Belle Isle. Winds of a hundred and fifteen miles an hour, and there was a storm surge of about ten feet. It was terrifying, looking out the windows and seeing that wall of water crashing over the seawall below. Huge old oak trees that were here for over a hundred years were ripped out of the ground. The porch roof came all the way off. When the winds got really bad, the whole house shook. Bebo and I got in the bathtub and put sofa cushions over our heads in case the roof caved in. I have never been so scared in my life.”
Maggy shivered. “Do you think it’ll get that bad this time?”
“I don’t know. And I don’t plan to be here if it does.”
64
The rain slashed at the hood of Riley’s yellow rain slicker as she dragged the last of the Adirondack chairs into the garden shed at Shutters, stacking it alongside the other seven chairs.
Her shoulders ached, her jeans were soaked all the way to her knees, and she was chilled to the bone. She locked the shed door and trudged back to the house. The wind whistled in the tops of the live oaks, and palm fronds and clumps of Spanish moss went flying past her head as she crossed the lawn.
She left her rubber boots on the porch and went inside, where she found Evelyn assembling her stockpile of flashlights, candles, and battery-operated lanterns.
“The chairs are locked up,” she reported. “What next?”
“Did Henry finish with the storm shutters?”
“He did, and you need to pay him double for climbing that ladder to put up the ones on the second story. I was so scared I could hardly watch.”
“Have you talked to your brother?”
“Yes. He said he’s almost finished boarding up his windows, so he and Scott should be here in about an hour.”
“Good.” Evelyn nodded. “Now, could you go over to the carriage house and check on your aunt? There’s no telling what kind of craziness she’s gotten up to. That old fool thinks this storm is better than a circus sideshow.”
Just then, the front door opened and Roo walked in with Maggy, water streaming off their boots and rain slickers. Maggy’s dark hair was plastered to her head, her face pink, and her eyes electric with excitement. Roo took off her red vinyl rain hat and tossed it onto the hall coatrack. The old woman shook her gray hair like a dog, splashing raindrops everywhere.
“Oh my word! What have you two been up to?” Evelyn demanded.
“I took Maggy down to the beach so she could experience a real hurricane,” Roo said.
“Mom! It was so awesome,” Maggy enthused. “Me and Roo had our own hurricane party. The seagulls were, like, flying backward. And the clouds are so thick, you can’t even see Big Belle. Roo said it was almost as good as Hurricane Floyd. You know, that was the most people ever killed in a hurricane in North Carolina.”
“I didn’t even know you’d gone out,” Riley said. “Roo, I wouldn’t have said yes if you’d asked if you could take her down there. It’s not safe!”
“I knew you’d say no, so that’s why I didn’t ask,” her aunt said. “And don’t worry, she checked her blood, and I gave her a snack, and she’s fine. The waves were magnificent,” Roo added. “I haven’t seen surf running that high since Floyd, in ninety-nine.”
“I should have known,” Evelyn muttered.
Roo looked around the hallway. “Have you been listening to the radio? Have there been any more updates from the Weather Service?”
“No, I haven’t been listening. I’ve been too busy getting this house ready to weather a storm,” Evelyn said. “Check it yourself if you want.”
“It’s in the kitchen,” Riley said. She turned stern eyes on her daughter. “Margaret Evelyn, you need to go right upstairs and get out of those wet clothes and take a hot shower.”
“I think I’ll go back to the carriage house and change into dry clothes, too,” Roo said. “What time are we eating? All this excitement has really given me an appetite.”
Riley looked at her watch. “Mama, it’s nearly six now. I think I’ll go see about starting dinner. I think we ought to eat early, in case the power goes off.”
“Good idea. I took the last of the shrimp out of the freezer to thaw, and I picked up a couple of quarts of Brunswick stew and some coleslaw at the Mercantile yesterday. And let’s use up the last of the salad stuff, too. Did you call Parrish and Ed and tell them to come over and help us eat up some of these groceries?”
“I did, but Ed’s plane was late getting into RDU today, and with the weather and traffic, he’s not going to make it down until tomorrow. Parrish said she was going to heat up some soup and hunker down right there. She promised she’d check in with us later tonight if the weather gets worse.”
* * *
The lights flickered off and then on again, just as she was draining the shrimp in the kitchen sink. Riley hurried into the living room and lit the candles she’d clustered around the mahogany table. The mellow old silver shone brightly, and she put place mats and heavy ironstone plates at each setting, then set the bowls of steaming shrimp and Brunswick stew on trivets in the middle of the table.
The front door flew open, and Billy and Scott walked in and slammed it shut. “Damn!” Billy called. “It’s getting ugly out there. I almost turned around and went back to the firehouse.”
“Except I threw out the rest of his vodka, so he knew he wouldn’t get a drink unless he came over here,” Scott said.
“That’s right,” Billy said. He walked to the sideboard, found the crystal decanter of vodka, and filled a double old-fashioned tumbler nearly to the brim. He took a swallow and grimaced. “Ugh. I think Mama must have cut this stuff with Sterno.”
“You notice he’s drinking it anyway,” Scott said to Riley.
Evelyn came in carrying water glasses and a large wooden salad bowl, followed by Roo, who had a platter of corn bread.
“You two quit fussing or you’ll ruin our appetites,” Evelyn said. “Riley, would you please ask your daughter to grace us with her presence?”
Riley stood at the bottom of the staircase, lifted her chin, and hollered, “Maggy! Dinner!”
* * *
Maggy stared down at the plate her grandmother had just set in front of her and turned pleading eyes toward her mother. “Mom? Would it be okay if I just had a sandwich or something? I’m not re
ally into stuff that’s all mixed together like this.”
“Now, Maggy,” Evelyn started.
“Mama, this once it’s all right,” Riley said. “Go ahead and get your sandwich. Just make sure you’re getting all your exchanges.…”
“And take my insulin,” Maggy said. “And after that, can I go upstairs and watch a movie on my iPad?”
“I guess so,” Riley said.
* * *
Riley took a deep breath. “Mama, there’s something I want to talk to you about.”
Evelyn placed her fork on the side of her plate. “I hope this is not about that Nate Milas.”
“No. It’s not about Nate. It’s about me. I’ve made some pretty big changes in my life recently. And some of them directly affect you. And the rest of this family.”
“I can’t wait to hear,” Evelyn said.
“First off, I quit my job at WDHM.”
“My goodness,” Evelyn said. “What brought that on?”
“A lot of things. The pay was crap. My boss was an idiot. And the final straw was that she wanted me to demonstrate a colon cleanse. On the air.”
Billy sniggered. “Talk about a shitty assignment.”
Evelyn turned to her son with a withering stare. “No more vodka, Billy.”
“So I walked out. And, well, I’ve been thinking about this for a while now. Ever since Wendell died, actually. I don’t want another job in television. I want to run Belle Isle Enterprises.”
“You?” Evelyn stared. “Sweetheart, you don’t know anything about running a business like ours.”
“Neither did Wendell, until Daddy gave him his job,” Riley said. “And Granddad hired Daddy after the two of you got married. But I’ve grown up in the business. On this island.”
“But, honey,” Evelyn said. “Wendell and W.R. had somebody to train them before they took over.”
“You mean, they were qualified because they were men,” Billy said. “Mama, for God’s sake, quit being such a sexist. Riley is twice as smart as Wendell ever was. And even if she wasn’t, there’s no way she could screw things up as badly as he did.”
The Weekenders Page 42
