Chapter 5
CHAPTER FIVE
“That’s the fourth cancelation, Skip.” Camille hung up the phone, shoulders hanging, too. “We’re effectively one hundred percent vacant from this moment forward.”
“Everyone’s all worked up over that dang storm.” The old fisherman hobbled toward the back windows of The Getaway, his thick brows perched over an examining gaze.
The sea was active with whitecap swells that left a frothy foam on the sandy coastline after each crash and boom. Even the sky seemed to match the ocean’s drama with dark gray clouds charting across its expanse faster than any boat Camille had seen. Mother Nature was downright angry.
“Those weathermen like to rile everyone up with buzzwords like, ‘storm of the century’ and ‘gale force winds’. All they’re aiming to do is create a commotion at the grocery store, a bottleneck on the highway, and a mess of our reservation schedule,” Skip groused.
Camille understood Skip’s frustration, but unlike her curmudgeon friend, she paid attention to the weather reports and took them seriously. Especially this one that threatened to rip the shutters and the shingles off of their newly renovated coastal inn.
“I think we should probably batten down the hatches,” she said confidently, fully aware she had no clue what the exact term referred to. But it sounded right.
Skip looked at her like she’d fallen off her rocker. “Batten down the what?”
“Batten down the hatches. Secure the windows. The doors. That’s what that means, right?”
The old man just rolled his eyes and shuffled back to his favorite reading chair. “Millie, this house has weathered more storms than years you’ve been alive. It’ll be fine.”
“Maybe, but I still think we should make preparations. They’re saying we might be without electricity for some time.
Foster has a few generators from the construction site he said we could use.
And I’m planning to head into town to stock up on essentials like water and canned goods.
Is there anything you’d like me to pick up while I’m there? ”
“Some common sense.”
Camille folded her arms over her chest and cut Skip a firm look. “I’m going to take this storm seriously for the both of us, since it seems like you can’t be bothered. As an innkeeper, it’s my job to take care of the Inn. And as your friend, it’s my responsibility to take care of you.”
Those words worked their way past Skip’s grumblings, wedging somewhere in his heart based on the relenting grin he finally offered her.
“And before you go saying you can take care of yourself—”
“Lord knows I can’t do that anymore,” he admitted gruffly. He settled his readers on the bridge of his nose and picked up the book from the side table. “And I also know it was the good Lord that brought you here to me, Millie. You do what you need to do with the place. I’ll stop my grumbling.”
“Oh, that’s highly unlikely.” She nudged the old sailor with a fist before shouldering into her purse to set out on her long list of errands. “Any special nonperishable food requests?”
“None of those baked beans. Give me gas.”
“Noted.” She laughed.
“And only the canned fruit in syrup. The other stuff doesn’t have any flavor.”
“Got it. Anything else?”
He held her eyes for a heartfelt moment. “Just make it back before rainfall. I don’t like the thought of you out on those roads when they’re slick and the oil comes to the surface.”
“I’ll be back before you know it, old man.”
“That’d better be a promise.”
Skip was going to have her head. Not only had the skies already started to release rain, but everyone in Seascape Shores had the same idea to stock up on supplies while stores remained open.
The first two grocers Tabitha tried were already out of batteries and flashlights, with a dwindling stock of toilet paper and bottled water.
She figured she had enough for herself, Foster, Josh, and Skip, but Camille always liked to be prepared should a wayfaring traveler arrive at their door without a reservation.
It was the reason they’d amassed so many five-star reviews since opening months ago.
Hospitality was Camille’s specialty, and she wanted nothing less than all the comforts of home for her guests.
“That’ll be fifty-four dollars and twenty-two cents,” the young cashier read Camille’s total aloud.
She passed her card over the machine, waiting for the beep.
“Stay safe out there. It’s predicted to be a bad one,” the worker cautioned as she handed off Camille’s receipt, along with her paper bag.
At least someone was taking the weather seriously. One would think a sailor would too, but in the time she’d known Skip, Camille discovered the man was set in his ways and didn’t take kindly to being told what to do. Not even from a meteorologist, it seemed.
She crossed over town toward another market, grateful to still see some items on the shelf.
Panic-buying was a real thing, especially for communities that rarely dealt with these sorts of storms. Seascape Shores was blessed with relatively stable weather, save for the June gloom that covered their skies with cloaks of gray for the first month of summer.
But now, nearing the end of it, it appeared they’d have cloudy skies to deal with once again.
And one grumpy sailor for Camille to deal with.
It was fine, Camille could handle a little rain. But the forecasters weren’t just talking a little rain.
With her rations in the trunk of her car and the satisfaction of a successful trip filling her chest, she headed back to the Inn. But she’d only made it halfway there when her phone trilled over the car’s speakers, jolting her so hard, her seatbelt locked up.
Tabitha’s name flashed across the dashboard console.
One hand on the wheel and the other pressing the button to accept the call, Camille said, “Hey sis. What’s up?”
“Did you know?”
She nodded her head even though her sister couldn’t see. Tabitha could only be referring to one thing. “I did.”
“They said they tried to tell me on three different occasions.”
“That sounds about right. But I was only there for the first one at the restaurant.”
“That was where I told you and Ben that I was pregnant with Casey, remember? When I had to rush to the bathroom to be sick right in the middle of brunch?”
Camille smiled. “Of course, I remember. And it was where I told you about Patrick.”
She could hear her sister sigh through the line. “I remember.” Another long breath. “I feel terrible that I was so up in my own head that I didn’t even realize what you all were trying to do.”
“You were distracted. Everyone understands.” Camille wanted to give Tabitha the benefit of the doubt because she absolutely deserved it. “How did they end up sharing the news?”
“Through a song. Which was perfectly fitting for the two of them.”
In a way, Camille was glad to break whatever tradition they’d started at the Coastal Café.
Over the years, it had become their unofficial meeting place where they shared their surprises and spilled their hearts.
There had been so many tear-filled conversations over those bistro tables—sometimes tears of joy and others sorrow.
And while the restaurant was a favorite, Camille hoped the Inn could fill that spot; become a sacred place where they could come together to share life’s milestones.
In the short time she’d been managing it, they had one wedding (the perfect one, though she knew she was biased), an anniversary dinner for beloved Skip and his dearly departed Gertie, and even one surprise sibling reveal.
And now Camille hoped to add a baby shower to that growing list of important celebrations. If this monumental storm left everything intact.
“I’m so glad they were able to surprise you, Granny.”
“I’m leaning more toward Nana, but I have a few months to think about it.”
More rain splattered against Camille’s windshield, so she flicked the wipers to increase their speed.
“I know you’ve already turned down Chief, but have you thought about cutting back on your hours, too?
I know the kids will need some help once the baby comes.
It would be nice if you were able to be available to them in that way. ”
“It’s something I’m considering,” Tabitha quickly replied. “But we’ve got time to figure things out.”
“We do,” Camille agreed. She knew that was the most she’d get out of her sister for now. “Hey. I’m out and about right now. Do you have everything you’ll need to ride out the storm? I can pick stuff up for you if you need anything.”
“I should be good, but if it gets really bad, I’m coming over.”
As young girls, Tabitha would often sneak into Camille’s bed during thunderstorms, claiming she was there to comfort Camille. But they both knew Tabitha was the one in need of it. Funny how some things—thankfully—never changed.
“Not sure my hubby would like you crashing with us, but I’ve got a room with your name on it. It’s all yours,” Camille said, half serious, half in jest. “Love you, sis.”
“Right back at you.”