The coffee is still hot, but easy to drink. I wrap both hands around the mug.
Rose makes huevos rancheros in the kitchen, and the whole place smells like homemade tortillas. When they’re ready, I’m the first one to make a plate. I eat standing up, clicking through the reservation site between bites. We’ve gotten three new bookings since the fundraiser. It’s the first time the numbers have gone up instead of down.
Gran walks through the side door, carrying the newspaper. She sets it on the desk and taps the front page. I already know she’s in a mood.
“Tropical disturbance off the coast,” she says. “They’re saying it could make landfall in thirty-six hours. Supposed to drop at three in the morning on Wednesday.”
“We get warnings like this every summer at the start of hurricane season.” I take a bite of eggs. “Remember two years ago? You called me, complaining about how you’d boarded up the windows for nothing.”
“Two years ago, we had insurance.” Gran’s voice is level, but her eyes are serious. “The policy lapsed in March, Wendy. I couldn’t afford the premium.”
My fork stops halfway to my mouth. I set it down on the plate, and the clink is louder than I intended. No insurance means every shingle, every window, every water-damaged ceiling comes out of a budget that barely exists. The B&B is a hundred-year-old building on an island in the middle of the ocean with no safety net.
The corporation letters flash through my mind. Each one was more aggressive than the last. I burned them in the firepit,wanting it all to disappear. The paper curled black at the edges, and I felt powerful, doing it, as Carter stood by and watched.
“What can we do?” I ask, thinking about Coastal Heritage.
I’m sure they’re watching and waiting. All it takes is one damaging storm that causes a repair bill that’s too big to handle. They can afford to be patient.
I push my plate away.
“I just got a weather alert on my phone,” Carter says, coming down the stairs. His eyes move between me and Gran like he knows he caught the tail end of a conversation he wants to avoid.
“I’m sure it’s nothing,” I say.
“We should consider getting prepared.” He tucks his phone in his pocket. “That’s better than panicking if it pans out to be something else.”
He says it like he’s already assessed the situation and has a plan.
I hesitate, and he lowers his voice. “Jump off a bridge with me?”
I’m brought back to that conversation we had at the waterfall. It’s his way of telling me that we’re in it together.
“Logic, I like it,” I say, almost shocked that this is happening. Just the thought of it puts me in a bad mood. It’s one of the only cons of living on the island. “Let’s make a list of things to do.”
The morning turns physical fast.
Carter and I carry the wrought iron patio chairs into the storage shed. By the fourth trip, my shoulders burn, and my body is covered in a thin layer of sweat. The humidity is high, and the water is warm, which isn’t good conditions for a tropical storm. His arm brushes mine when we set the last table down. Neither of us moves away. The storage room smells like old paint and damp cardboard. We’re standing so damn close that I can smell his sweat, mixed with sunscreen.
“Should I be worried?” he asks.
“I don’t know yet,” I tell him, pulling up my phone so I can track the progression online. There are some models that show it missing us completely. The rest show a direct hit.
Carter moves through the first floor, checking every window latch, tightening the ones that jiggle. I follow him with a notebook as I write down measurements for the windows. There are some cut boards in the garage for boarding, but I don’t know how many. At some point, Carter finds the generator stored in the corner, and he dusts it off, pulling it out into the open.
I tilt my head at him. “I didn’t know you were handy.”
He smirks. “Yes, you did.”
When we’re back inside, Rose fills water jugs in the kitchen. It’s all hands on deck.
Gran watches me and Carter from the lobby. When he heads upstairs, she looks up from her phone.
“That man has done this before,” she says.
“Prepped?”
“Managed a crisis.”
