“And you, with money like this,” McCauley jokes.
I rub the back of my neck as laughter rumbles from my chest. Of all the work I’ve ever done—building hotels, overlooking construction projects—this has been the most significant. It has touched me the most, meant more to me than I can express.
These guys mean a lot, too.
They each thank me.
“You all deserve it. Thank you for all the work you did.”
We settle into a comfortable silence and Isaac deals the next hand. “So, what time you leaving tomorrow?” he asks.
“Who says I’m leaving?”
“Well, aren’t you?”
I look up from my hand to see the three of them staring at me. I shrug. “What?”
“We just figured you’d be gone,” Ron clarifies, eyeing the check that sits face down on the table.
“Did you place bets on when I’d leave?”
“No.” Isaac scowls, insulted. “Well, maybe.”
McCauley keeps an eye on his hand. “He’s staying.”
Isaac’s eyes widen. “Are you staying?”
“You gonna break Rowe’s curse?” Ron accordion-closes the cards in his hand. “Are you?”
“There isn’t a curse,” I counter.
“Oh, there’s a curse,” Clarice says, showing up to clear the glasses.
“What gives, Clarice?” Ron says. “You’re not supposed to take our drinks so soon.”
Clarice puts a glass of water in front of him. “Storm’s moving.”
As she says it, all our phones buzz, and a computerized voice warns us that severe weather is heading our way.
I open the weather app and check the radar. There’s a line of red heading straight for us. “Looks nasty.”
“Tornadoes,” McCauley says ominously. “That’s what’s coming.”
My head whips up. “Is it even tornado season?”
“It’s not.” Clarice starts to move off, giving us her back. “But that doesn’t matter in the South. From the look of the radar, we got just enough time to get home. Y’all be safe.”
Isaac rises. “I’ll drive you, Clarice. Leave the John Deere.”
I slip the phone into my pocket, ignoring the tightening in my chest. “Has this area been hit by a tornado before?”
“A few years back,” McCauley tells me as he pulls his car keys from his pocket. “And the worst part is that storms like to hit the same areas over and over again. Get home and into the basement.”
Basement? There’s not a basement at the farm. As the men and Clarice move to leave, I dial Rowe to warn her.
There’s no answer.
Fear grips me by the throat. I have to get homenow, before the line of storms hits.
