“Then you know they need to get out of here in the next few hours,” Alex said.
“You go take care of things, then,” Charlotte said. “And thank you, Alex. We’ve ridden out lots of these things, but I’ll rest easier knowing you are there to help my girls with this first one.”
“You’re welcome, but I’ll miss you during this time. Seems to me like you still owe me some money from our last poker game.” Alex chuckled.
“Seems to me like it’s you that owes me money,” Charlotte said with half a giggle. “Take care of my nieces. Call when you can.”
“Will do, and don’t worry,” Alex said, but when he looked down, the screen on his phone had gone dark.
The drive from his place to the center took only five minutes, but by the time he arrived, the wind was doing more than just whistling through the trees—it was making a growling noise as if it were angry with the whole world.
He parked and swung open the door to the feel of a fine mist in the air. Delilah was on the way, and she was bringing chaos and destruction with her. Alex hoped that this wasn’t the big one that would destroy the old Sandcastle B and B.
Barbara, the center’s supervisor, must’ve been waiting for him, because she held the double doors open. “Charlotte Landry is an angel.”
“I’ve never seen a halo or wings, but she is a sweet old gal,” Alex said with a grin.
Four elderly folks stood behind her with luggage, duffel bags, and even a few big black trash bags surrounding them. “Thank you and Miz Charlotte both for doing this,” Barbara said. “I’ll help you get all this loaded. I think we can get it all done in one load since you have a truck.”
“I’m not helpless,” one of the guys said in a deep southern voice and hoisted a faded military-looking duffel bag onto his shoulders.
“I ain’t either.” The other one, much shorter and rounder, followed his lead and carried a couple of garbage bags out to the bed of the truck.
“I’m Maude,” one lady said in a prim tone that indicated she usually had every hair in place, but the wind was stirring it up and making it look somewhat like a mop that had dried upside down. She patted it a couple of times, then gave up and rolled a pink suitcase out to Alex’s truck and left it beside a rear wheel. She moaned as she hiked a hip into the passenger seat, where she immediately flipped down the visor and used the mirror to try to do something with her gray hair. She wore pale pink lipstick and minimal makeup, and a baby-blue pantsuit that matched her eyes.
“I’m glad we’re going somewhere that’s safer than the center. They should have built it up on stilts rather than on a concrete slab,” she said as she slammed the door shut.
“Oh, yeah,” a tall Black man said. “You whine all the time about your knees. How would you climb up stairs if this place was six or eight feet off the ground?” He introduced himself to Alex. “I’m Frank, and this here”—he pointed to the shorter man—“is Homer. Thanks for rescuing us.”
“I do not whine,” Maude declared with a dramatic sniff.
Alex marveled at her ability to continue the conversation through a closed door.
“No, you plain old gripe.” Homer chuckled. “And a house on stilts might help in a flood, but not so much in hundred-mile-an-hour wind.”
“Oh, hush!” Maude snapped at them both. “You’re just like Cleo, always wanting to argue with me.”
The other woman tossed a bright orange tote bag into the back of the truck. “She’s talking about me. I’m Cleo, and I’m not afraid of a hurricane,” she bragged. “I would have tied a rope around my waist and stood on the roof just to experience the thrill, but Barbara won’t leave until we’re all gone, and she’s got them three kids to get to safety.”
“Cleo is wild as a one-eyed loon,” Maude huffed. “Always has been and always will be. Don’t pay a bit of attention to her.”
“At least I’ve lived my life to the fullest and haven’t let anyone else control me.” Cleo swished the skirt of her multicolored dress to one side and hopped up into the back seat, right behind Maude. Orange, yellow, and red beads had been worked into a long red braid that hung down her back to her waist.
From the smart-ass remarks and the dirty looks, it was evident to Alex that the two old ladies couldn’t stand each other. That should make for an interesting time at the B and B. Usually, he and Charlotte were the only ones in the place when the storms came. He would go over there a day or two before, cover all the windows, and they’d ride out the weather by playing board games or poker, or reading books by the light of oil lamps. This would be different with Charlotte’s nieces there, along with two old war veterans—judging from those duffel bags—and two women who were as different as night and day.
“Get on in here, Homer.” Cleo’s green eyes glittered with mischief as she patted the seat beside her. “I don’t bite on the days when a hurricane is supposed to hit. You can sit in the middle, and Frank can have the window seat. Hey, whatever your name is,” she said as she pointed to Alex, “do you think I could stand on the roof of the B and B when Delilah hits us? This is my first hurricane since I was a kid, and we lived up near Winnie, so it wasn’t like we were right there when it made landfall. I don’t want to miss a single bit of it.”
“I’m Alex LaSalle,” he introduced himself, “and that would not be a simple no but a hell no! You are not standing on the roof, on the catwalk, or even out on the back porch. All of you will be safely inside when Delilah hits us in a few hours.”
“Well, rats!” Cleo said with a sigh. “I should have stayed in the center. If this storm is as big as they say it is, that place is going to be demolished. I understand the B and B has withstood a Category 4 hurricane in the past, so I suppose there’s not a chance it will be knocked down.”
Alex started the engine and eased out onto the street. “I hope the house is still standing and all of you guys are alive and well when Delilah has passed.”
“If the good Lord wants that house to be flattened, He’ll do it, and He will do it a lot quicker if there’s a fool standing on the roof,” Maude spat out.
“If the house falls down, you can rest assured that I won’t bother to dig through the rubble to find your sorry carcass,” Cleo said.
“Hmmph,” Maude snorted. “You can rest assured that the feeling is mutual.”
Holy smoke! What have I gotten myself into? Alex wondered as he gripped the steering wheel to keep the truck on the road. When they passed the gas station, they could see it was boarded up. Both churches—one on each end of town—had wood over the windows, but the steeples seemed to be leaning slightly to the north.
A streak of lightning crashed into the highway in front of them, and what looked like a ball of fire rolled across the road like a tumbleweed in an old Western movie.
“Sweet Jesus!” Cleo yelped. “That’s the first time I’ve ever seen a lightning ball.”
“That’s a message from God telling you to behave or He’ll send the next one rolling right over you,” Maude told her.
Homer raised his voice above all the noise. “Don’t pay them no never mind. They’ll still be fighting when they reach the Pearly Gates. God have mercy if they die at the same time.”