Chapter 7
C liff stood on Beverly’s porch, staring at the closed door. Same old Beverly. Same old town. No one wanted his help. Not even when he genuinely offered it, with no strings attached.
He turned and walked to his car as irritation surged through him. Why did she always insist on handling everything herself? It was just like dealing with his mother all over again. Another stubborn Magnolia Key woman pushing him away when all he wanted to do was help.
He slipped into his car to head over to his mother’s house. She always treated evacuation orders like optional suggestions, no matter how serious the warning. He’d call to check on her, but she never answered her cell phone. Said she didn’t need it since everyone knew where to find her.
He parked his car and got out. Winston greeted him with a lazy wag of his tail as he climbed the porch steps. He lifted the brass door knocker and let it go, hearing it echo through the hallway.
His mother’s deliberate footsteps sounded through the door before she opened it and stood there, her back straight and a disapproving look on her face. “Cliff, I thought you’d be off the island by now.”
“I just wanted to check on you. Make sure you heard about the mandatory evacuation. When are you leaving?” He eyed her suspiciously. “You are leaving, right?”
“I’m aware of the evacuation orders and I’m perfectly capable of making my own decision about leaving my home—or not.”
“Mother, you can’t stay here during a hurricane.”
“It’s only going to be a category two, maybe three at most. Winston and I will be fine.”
“You’re leaving.” He stepped into the foyer. “Remember that category three we rode out? The one where you insisted we should stay? The one where half the roof came off? And the hurricane shutters tore off the big window and rain poured in?”
“That was different. And the house has new hurricane windows now. Well, at least upstairs.” She paused and looked at him sharply.
“We’ve been through storms before, and we’ll weather this one.
” She spoke as if that ended the entire discussion.
As if she could control a hurricane through sheer Whitmore stubbornness.
Jonah appeared behind her, nodding a greeting, a look of relief briefly crossing his features. “I was just trying to convince Ellie we need to head to the mainland.” Jonah shook his head. “She hasn’t exactly been cooperative.”
“I’m more than cooperative,” she protested sharply. “I just see no point in panicking. The forecast keeps shifting back and forth—first it’s a two, then maybe a three, then back to a two. Those weather reporters haven’t got a clue. We’ve lived through worse. Cliff, you know that well enough.”
He met her gaze. “Mother, I know you take pride in being stubborn. But there’s a fine line between stubborn and reckless. Will you really risk your safety—all because you refuse to listen to common sense?”
“I won’t have you lecturing me on common sense. Common sense says that you’d realize your ridiculous development is a poor idea for the town.”
He let out a long sigh. It always came back to him screwing things up as far as his mother was concerned.
“And both of you can stop treating me like I’m some helpless old woman. I’ve lived through plenty of storms. This is my home. You two feel free to leave if you’re concerned. But I’m not going anywhere.”
“I’m not leaving you, Ellie.” Jonah put a hand on her shoulder.
“Your home will still be here when you get back.” At least he hoped it would. You never knew with these hurricanes.
Jonah turned and looked patiently at his mother. With way more patience than he had for her. “Ellie, we really don’t want to put any rescue workers at risk if we stay here and need help, do we?”
She stared at Jonah for a moment. “Fine. But only because you already made arrangements at a nice hotel a bit inland.” She pointed her finger at Cliff. “Not because you told me to. We’ll leave in the morning. No use wasting money on a hotel room tonight.”
Relief swept through him. She’d finally listened to reason. “Do you need help getting your things together?”
“No, I’m perfectly capable of packing.” She waved her hand at him. “You can go now.”
“Mother—”
She turned and headed for the stairs. “I’m sure you have other things to do. Development plans to work on. Buildings to design that will ruin our town.”
“Ellie,” Jonah said softly. “Now is not the time…”
She paused on the third step. “You’re right. I need to pack.” She continued up the stairs without looking back.
He stood there, feeling like that teenage boy who could never do anything right.
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.