Jonah clasped his shoulder. “Thanks for the reinforcements. Your mother is a stubborn one. Always has been.” He smiled. “But I wouldn’t have her any other way. We’ll leave on the first ferry in the morning. I’ll make sure she gets to the hotel.”
“Thanks.” He headed for the door. “Text me when you get there.”
“Will do.”
He walked out, and Winston followed him to the porch. The old dog wagged his tail as Cliff scratched behind his ears. “Take care of her, boy.”
He headed to his car and drove back into town. Most of the shops had their hurricane shutters up, but he spotted Patty Miller struggling with a large piece of plywood outside of her gift shop.
He pulled into an empty parking spot and got out. “Need some help with that?”
Patty looked up, her hair blowing around her face. “Oh, Cliff. Yes, actually. I keep forgetting how much work it is to board everything up.”
He took the plywood from her and positioned it over the window. “Got a drill?”
“Right here.” She handed him the power tool. “Thank you. I wasn’t sure how I was going to manage this by myself.”
“Happy to help.” He secured the plywood. “How many more windows do you need to cover?”
“Just the side window. I’ve got the back done already.”
They worked together to get the final window covered. Patty stood back and eyed the window with a satisfied smile. “I really appreciate your help.”
“No problem. Anyone else need help?”
“I think Sarah at the bookstore was having trouble with her shutters. The track’s a bit rusty.”
He nodded and headed down the street to the bookstore. Sarah stood outside, yanking on a metal shutter that refused to budge.
“Want me to take a look at that?”
She glanced over her shoulder. “Oh. Well, I suppose.”
He examined the track. “Just needs some WD-40. Got any?”
“Inside.” She disappeared into the shop and returned with a can.
A few sprays of lubricant and the shutter slid smoothly closed. He helped her with the remaining windows, then moved on to the next shop.
Some owners accepted his help readily. Others declined, saying they had it under control or help was already on the way. A few just shook their heads and went inside when they saw him approach.
He spied Mrs. Carson trying to load supplies into her car.
“Here, let me get that for you.” He lifted the boxes easily and placed them in her trunk.
“Thank you, Cliff.” She patted his arm. “You were always such a strong boy. Remember when you helped build that ramp for my granddad’s wheelchair?”
“That was a long time ago.”
“Still, you did good things back then. And you’re doing good things now, helping folks prepare.” She got into her car. “Sometimes people forget the good parts.”
He watched her drive away, thinking about her words. The sun was getting low, and the street was growing empty. A string of boarded-up shops lined the street. He’d done what he could.
He’d head to the mainland himself first thing in the morning. Though part of him wanted to stay, to prove to everyone he did care about this town. But that would just be foolish. And they probably wouldn’t believe him, anyway.
Chapter 8
Beverly stepped out onto her front porch, keys gripped tightly in her hand. She’d gone through her mental checklist three times now. Windows secured. Photos packed. Insurance documents tucked safely in her bag. Computer in the car. Other important items placed in waterproof containers and set up high.
