“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.”