Page 46 of No Judgements
“Fred, I’m not a masochist. I’m not going out there.”
“Ladies and gentlemen of Little Bridge, if you’re just tuning in and wondering what my esteemed colleague and I are discussing, it’s the fact that Wayne lost a bet, and as the loser he is supposed to go out into the parking lot of our station here and attempt to measure the winds of Hurricane Marilyn by spitting into them. And yet here he is, reneging on our—”
“Oh, for pity’s sake,” Mrs. Hartwell burst out. “This is the silliest, most revolting thing I’ve ever heard. Turn it off.”
Ed only turned up the volume. “Now, Lu,” he said gravely. “These gentlemen are providing a valuable service to the community. Everyone who’s listening is having their mind kept off the storm, which is what we all need right now.” He glanced at me. “Wouldn’t you say so?”
I didn’t want to get into the middle of my employers’ marital squabble. Besides which, I was beginning to worry. The airport was less than a mile from Sandy Point Beach, where Drew was building his house. If the winds there were already up to Category 3 strength and the eye of the storm wasn’t even on us, was it remotely safe for him to be there? It didn’t seem like it.
“I mean, they seem dumb,” I said of Fred the Head and Wayne the Toad Licker. “But entertaining.”
“And informative.” Ed took a small notebook and pen from his shirtfront pocket and began jotting something down. “So, if it’s seven o’clock now, and the winds are already at over a hundred miles per hour, that means the eye should pass over at around—”
Mrs. Hartwell snapped, “Oh, for pity’s sake, Ed. I don’t want to hear it! Our nephew could be dying out there and you’re standing there estimating exactly what time it’s going to happen!”
Ed shrugged, still calculating. “I’m sorry, but it’s better to be prepared for these things.”
“Girls!” Mrs. Hartwell spun around and called to the teenagers. “Girls, come help set the table. We’re going to eat dinner soon. Although to be honest,” she turned to say to me, “I don’t think I could eat a bite, I’m so worried. You?”
“Um.” I suddenly thought of something. “Hold on a minute. I think I have just the thing.”
Chapter Seventeen
Time:7:18P.M.
Temperature:77ºF
Wind Speed:65 MPH
Wind Gust:115 MPH
Precipitation:3.3 in.
Oh, how thoughtful. I haven’t seen one of those in years. The girls will love it.”
That’s what Mrs. Hartwell said when I dug out my cheese ball and offered to serve it as an appetizer, since I thought it might cheer her up.
It did. Neither Nevaeh nor Katie had ever seen such a thing before, and after obediently setting the massive dining room table, as Mrs. Hartwell had asked, with her best silverware and china, they dug into the unfamiliar treat, gushing over it as enthusiastically as if I’d made it myself.
“This is the best thing I’ve ever eaten,” Nevaeh declared, shoveling port wine cheese spread into her mouth.
“Me, too!” Katie had bits of cracker stuck in her braces.
“Lu never lets me eat this stuff,” Ed said, slicing off about a third of the cheese ball for himself. “She says it’s bad for my cholesterol. Hey, where’s the hurricane dip?”
“Coming,” Mrs. Hartwell called from the kitchen, where she was warming tortillas for theropa vieja. “Is anyone saving any of that cheese for me?”
I appreciated the brave show Drew’s aunt was putting on. I appreciated it so much that, before clearing the tray to make room for dinner, I snapped a quick photo of what was left of the demolished cheese ball and sent it to Drew Hartwell, along with the message “See what you’re missing?”
Since I knew both his aunt and uncle had tried to call and text him and received no reply, I didn’t expect a reply, either.
So I was surprised when, just as we were sitting down to dinner, I saw a text bubble appear beneath my message to him... three animated dots, indicating he was writing back.
Indicating that, at least for now, he was alive.
I had looked up excitedly to share this fact with the rest of the table when Mrs. Hartwell, her tone brisk but polite, said, “No cell phones at the table, please.”
“But—”
