The Weekenders (54 page)

“Right now, he says it's projected to head out to sea,” Roo said, sounding disappointed.

“See?” Evelyn said. “A lot of fuss over nothing.” She pointed out the kitchen window. “Look at that beautiful sky. Roo, I was just fixing to call you. If we leave right now, we can get in nine holes before dinner.”

“All right,” Roo said. “My bag is still on your cart. Let's do it.”

“You're playing golf? Right now?” Riley asked.

“It's a holiday weekend, and we might not be able to get another tee time. Anyway, with all I've got to do this weekend, this could be my last chance to play.” Evelyn patted her daughter on the shoulder. “We can talk at dinner tonight. All right?”

Just as well, Riley thought, watching her mother and aunt head out for the golf course. The size and location of the cottage she'd just leased was perfect, but the long-term tenants who'd recently vacated had left it a filthy wreck. There was no way she and Maggy could stay there while it was in that condition.

She went into the laundry room and helped herself to the cleaning supplies she'd need—broom, mop, scrub bucket, trash bags, rubber gloves, Pine-Sol, and bleach.

*   *   *

Maggy stood in the doorway of the cottage and wrinkled her nose in distaste.

The living room was small, with white-painted pine paneling, a fireplace, and two picture windows that looked out at a tiny fenced garden overrun with weeds and discarded plastic beach toys. The slipcovered flowered sofa was stained and worn looking, and the area rug was strewn with trash and coated with sand. The room smelled like essence of wet dog.

“Gross!” She turned to look at her mother. “I'm glad we left Banksy with Bebo. He might get fleas. This place is nasty. Why can't we get Delores to clean it before we move in?”

Delores was Evelyn's longtime housekeeper at Shutters.

“Because Delores costs money, and we're officially on a budget,” Riley said. “Now, let's get busy. I want to take this rug outside and air it out before the rain gets here.”

Although the sky outside was still blue, gray-tinged clouds had started to gather on the horizon. They might have a couple more hours of sunshine. Riley went from room to room opening windows to let in fresh air. “Let's do this!” she declared.

Shortly before six, she heard the distant rumble of thunder and saw the first raindrops spattering against the bedroom window she'd been cleaning. “Maggy! Come help me get the rug inside.”

They managed to drag the heavy rug back to the living room just as the heavens opened up. “Dang,” Maggy said, standing at the window. “Do you think it'll rain tomorrow? I was gonna meet the kids at the beach in the morning.”

Riley took her phone out of her purse and tapped the weather app to check on the storm's progress.

NO SIGNAL
appeared on the screen.

“Looks like this house doesn't have wireless,” Riley said. “I guess I should have asked the owner about that.”

“
Mom
! Are you kidding me? There's no Wi-Fi?”

“I'll call the phone company and see about it next week,” Riley said. “Uh-oh. Looks like I missed a call from Mimi.”

Riley tried twice to return her mother's call, but each time got a
CALL
FAILED
notice. Her phone had zero bars. Fortunately, Evelyn had left a message.

“Riley? Roo and I are at the club because our last couple of holes got rained out. I think we're just going to have dinner here in the grill with a couple of the other girls. You and Maggy could join us here, or you can just have the chicken salad I fixed.”

Riley looked over at Maggy, who was still staring out the window. “Are you hungry, Mags? When was the last time you…”

“Stop!” Maggy exclaimed. “I had a juice box and some crackers a little while ago.”

“Okay, but what about dinner?” Riley asked. “We could go over to the club. Mimi and Roo are having dinner in the grill. Or we could go back to Shutters and get dinner there.”

“Bebo's cart doesn't have any plastic sides on it,” Maggy pointed out. “We'll get soaked. Anyway, I'm not even hungry. Let's just get this place finished so we can leave. It's kind of depressing here, you know?”

“I'm not really hungry either. And I've got plenty of snacks in the cooler I brought. Okay, yeah, let's keep working.” She put an arm around her daughter's shoulders. “I know it looks kind of grungy right now, but we can fix that. The owner said it's okay if we paint, as long as we don't do anything too outrageous, so maybe next week we'll go to town, and you can pick out a color for your bedroom.”

“Can I do purple?”

“Pale purple,” Riley said. “If you're sure you want to keep going, I'll tackle the bathroom and the kitchen while you finish up your room.”

At eight o'clock, with her energy flagging, Riley dragged the last of the trash bags to the living room, adding them to the pile by the front door. She poked her head in the doorway of the bedroom and found her daughter curled up in the middle of the bed, fast asleep with her head on a pile of freshly laundered sheets and towels. For a moment, she panicked.

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.”