“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.”
“I just don’t know,” Evelyn sputtered. “This is just so out of the blue.…”
“I think Riley would do a wonderful job running the company,” Roo said. “You know I loved my little brother, but W.R. could be blind about some things. I don’t think he ever thought women were good for much beyond having babies and running a house.”
“I’m not saying we shouldn’t consider it,” Evelyn said, seeing that she was outgunned. “But think of the logistics. Wendell spent more than half his time on the island or traveling. How could you do that and live in Raleigh and take care of Maggy, as a single mother?”
“I’ve already thought of that. I withdrew Maggy from the Woodlawn School. She’ll start seventh grade at Baldwin Middle School on Tuesday. And I’ve rented a little cottage for us in the village.”
“When did all this take place?” Evelyn asked indignantly. “I can’t believe you’d take Maggy out of one of the top-ranked prep schools in the state and put her in some little country schoolhouse in Southpoint. And what about your new house in Raleigh? Weren’t you supposed to move in there this week?”
“Things happened so fast, there really wasn’t time to let you know,” Riley said. “I was miserable in my job and Maggy was miserable at Woodlawn. Her homeroom teacher didn’t even know who she was. And then, when the folks who sold me the house decided not to move and backed out of the sale at the last minute, I decided it was a sign from the universe.”
“A good sign,” Roo said, beaming at her niece.
“Roo, please!” Evelyn said sharply.
The weather radio Roo had placed on the floor beside her chair gave out another unearthly blare, and the same disembodied voice filled the high-ceilinged dining room.
“Due to intensifying conditions associated with Hurricane Brody, at seven fifteen p.m. Eastern Standard Time on Friday, the National Weather Service has upgraded a hurricane watch to a hurricane warning for the area from Hilton Head, South Carolina, to Norfolk, Virginia. Residents of coastal and low-lying areas should begin immediate emergency storm preparations including evacuation to higher ground, away from areas susceptible to high winds and storm surge. Hurricane Brody is now a category-two storm and forecasters now predict a direct strike of potentially catastrophic forces to these areas. Stay tuned to this frequency for further updates.”
“Only a cat two?” Roo said, underwhelmed. “That’s hardly anything. Now Hazel, back in fifty-four, was a cat four. That’s what I call a storm.”
“Evacuation?” Evelyn said, looking around the table. “Is that really necessary? After all, we managed to ride out Fran.”
“And I never want to live through something like that again,” Riley snapped. She turned to her brother for help. “Billy, would you please tell her she’s crazy to consider staying on the island for this storm?”
Billy took a gulp of his cocktail. “Mama, you’re crazy. We need to go.”
As if on cue, Riley’s cell phone dinged an alert of a text message, and her phone screen lit up while another anonymous voice issued another ominous threat:
“At seven forty-five p.m. the Baldwin County Emergency Management Agency received notice of a category-two hurricane expected to make landfall in this area by nine a.m. Saturday. The agency has now issued a mandatory evacuation order for low-lying areas including Southpoint, Beach Haven, Fiddler’s Sound, and Belle Isle. Residents are instructed to take cover or evacuate immediately to higher ground.”
Scott gave his mother-in-law a pleading look. “Now, Evelyn, that sounds pretty serious. The county is saying evacuation is mandatory.”
“They just say that,” Roo said. “In case of lawsuits. But they can’t make us leave. Right, Evvy?”
“That’s it,” Riley said. “I am calling the ferry right now and getting us off before this storm blows us off.”
She picked up her phone and tapped the connect button to call the ferry office, but got disconnected almost immediately. “The number’s busy,” she reported. “Probably because every sane person left on the island is doing the same thing I am.”
Oooowwwhoooooo.
“That’s Banksy,” Riley said, standing up and heading for the stairway. “He must hear something outside.”
She stood at the door, and now they all heard the siren, and saw headlights and flashing red lights heading down the drive straight for the house. Riley opened the door and peered outside. The din from the driving rain obscured most of the message, but one phrase emanating from the vehicle’s roof-mounted loudspeaker was audible: “MANDATORY EVACUATION ORDER.”
“That’s the sheriff’s car,” Riley reported. And as she watched, Sheriff Schumann, in a safety-yellow rain slicker with LAW ENFORCEMENT emblazoned across the front, dashed up onto the porch.
“Come on in,” Riley said.
The sheriff looked at the family members assembled around the table. “I’m assuming y’all have gotten the texts and alerts about the hurricane?”
“We have,” Riley assured him. “And I’m just getting ready to book our seats on the ferry.”
“Better hurry,” he said. Then, turning away from the family, he placed his lips near Riley’s ear. “Uh, listen, can I speak to you in private? It’s about your husband.”