“I don’t know,” Bailey said about an hour later, as I put on my bathing suit to go down to the pool with Tracy. “I have a bad feeling.”
“What?” Everyone on my end had been so positive, I was surprised. “Why?”
“This storm is alotlike Richard,” she replied. “Same path in the Atlantic, same general size, same place it’s supposed to come in. And it almost leveled us.”
“But here at the Tides, they’re saying it’s nothing.”
“They don’t know anything!” She sighed. “That place was still under construction two years ago, and most of the people there aren’t from the lake anyway. I’ve been watching my dad, and he’s worried. So I’m really worried.”
I got chill bumps suddenly, springing up along my arms. “Really?”
“Yep.” She was quiet for a moment. “Listen to me, okay? Don’t wait for them to tell you guys to take cover. Do itwhen the sky starts to darken. Get low and inside and away from doorways and windows.”
I looked outside again. It was sunny and bright, with a breeze that was ruffling the awnings of the restaurant downstairs. Motorboats dotted the water.
“If it comes, I’ll be careful,” I told Bailey. “Although it’s gorgeous now, so I’m pretty sure I’ll be seeing you and everyone else at six.”
“Hopefully,” she replied, sounding anything but. “But for now, I’ve got to go help put plywood over the windows and drag in all the outside furniture.”
Now I sighed. “I wish I could help.”
“Don’t. Wish for the storm to miss us. And then wish it again.”
She sounded so serious. “Okay. I will. See you later?”
“Yeah.” A pause. “Be careful, Saylor.”
After hanging up, I sat there a second, then turned on the small TV in my room, flipping from an infomercial for a slow cooker to the local news. A guy in a windbreaker was reporting from Colby, a beach town about two hours to the southeast, where it was also still sunny, although the waves were starting to build behind him in the live shot. When a bullet list of Smart Storm Prep appeared, I turned it off.
As Tracy and I headed to the pool, there was little to no sign of any weather concerns other than a pile of sandbags that had appeared on the back patio. When I eyed them, a girl behind the outdoor bar in a Tides Golf shirt was quick to reassure us.
“Standard operating procedure,” she said. “The Tides is more prepared for this storm than any other place on the lake, if it even comes. For now, can I get you a cool beverage?”
I declined, taking my bag to two chairs over by the far corner of the pool. When Tracy joined me a moment later, she had a tall pink drink in a frosted glass, a little yellow umbrella poking out of it. “To the storm,” she said, holding it up. I did the same with my bottled water. “Let it stay far away.”
“Amen,” I said. We clinked, then drank.
About an hour later, my phone rang, the Defender Windows’ familiar toll-free number popping up on the screen. I answered, readying myself for whatever pitch I would get this time. But when Roo spoke, it wasn’t to some fake customer about credit checks. Just me.
“Saylor?”
“Hi,” I said. “How’s work? Still really busy with the—”
“Are they prepping over there? Do you have a place to go when the storm comes?”
I looked around again at the pool: a group of kids in goggles were wrestling in the shallow end, while the bar was already packed, even though it wasn’t noon yet. “No... I mean, it’s still gorgeous here.”
Behind him, I could hear a phone ringing. “Which doesn’t mean anything if you look at the forecast. They should already have told you where to go when it starts to get bad—it’s Storm 101.”
“According to them, this place is hurricane-proof. AllI’ve seen are a few sandbags.”
“And they haven’t said anything about shelter?”
“Well...” I looked at the bar again. “No. Not yet.”
“Get low,” he said. “Bottom floor, ideally a room with no windows if you can find it. Stay away from all glass. Bring your valuables and medication. And if you haven’t charged your phone, do it now. Tell your dad and Tracy, too.”
“Okay,” I said, “but seriously, maybe they’re watching a different forecast track over here, because they’re really not worried.”
