Read Online Watch for the Dead (Relatively Dead Book 4) by Sheila Connolly - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Sheila Connolly
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cottage. Abby poured drinks, and they went out to sit on the porch to admire the view. Ellie got bored with that quickly and went down to the bulkhead to peer into the water. “I see a crab!” she called out, excited. “It’s swimming sideways!”
“That’s what they do, I think. You want to catch one?”
“For a pet?”
“No, for dinner.”
Ellie shook her head vigorously.
Abby relaxed into her chair. There was something about the weather that felt different. The light was still kind of—she struggled for a word—diluted, like there was a lot of moisture in the air. Or maybe there were very thin clouds very high up that signaled the leading edge of the storm. She jumped up to retrieve her cell phone, where she had loaded a weather app, and checked what was going to happen. She read through the local forecast without learning much she didn’t already know. She would describe the entries for the next few days as cautiously pessimistic. Yes, there would be rain—that much was clear. There would be winds, and they might be strong. Or not. There was a small chance of coastal flooding, but not everywhere. Abby had no idea whether her current location was prone to flooding.
She checked for messages and found that Ned had texted briefly. “Storm getting stronger.” That was all—no help. Was stronger a problem?
Suddenly she remembered the binder she had found earlier, with all the firsthand local reports of the Hurricane of 1938, which was still one of the benchmarks for New England storms. Would it scare Ellie to read through it? Heck, would it scare her? She decided to stroll around the perimeter of the house, just to see what was what. No nearby trees to fall on the house: that was good. There were in fact wooden shutters for the windows, and they looked original—which meant they were over a century old. How well would they stand up to a storm? On closer inspection, Abby determined that they had been well maintained, but they were still old. If worse came to worst, it would probably be better to close them than not, because closed they might provide some protection, but open they might fly away and bash somebody else’s property.
Ned hadn’t come out and said that he wanted them to head home before the storm. He’d left it up to her. The weather service was not crying “disaster!” For now she was content to stay put and wait and see. Which, one could argue, might make it too late to change plans. Did she really want Ned to call her and demand that she leave immediately? He was not the kind of man who would do that—he trusted her intelligence and judgment. But she had pitifully little experience with major storms. What to do?
Make dinner. That she could handle. “Ellie, you want to help me cook?”
Ellie can scampering back. “Okay. I saw another crab. The water’s not real deep right there.”
“Depends on the tide, I guess. Do you know about tides?”
“Some. The tide kind of follows the moon, right?”
That discussion carried them through the making and eating of a simple dinner of grilled sausages (Abby’s compromise to Ellie’s suggestion of hot dogs), fresh corn, and local lettuce. When they were clearing the table, Abby asked, “Do you remember any big storms, Ellie?”
“Like the snow last year?”
“Kind of, although winter storms and summer storms aren’t exactly the same. What do you remember?”
“Mostly it kept snowing and snowing, and it was so cold that the wind blew it all around, so every time Daddy shoveled, the path got covered up again. It went on for a long time.”
“That it did. Anyway, I was asking because we might be getting a big storm here, and I’m trying to decide if it’s safe to stay in this house or if it might be smarter if we left before it started.”
“This is an old house, right?” Ellie asked.
“It is, probably over a hundred years old. Why?”
“Then it must have been through plenty of storms and it seems to be in pretty good
“That’s what they do, I think. You want to catch one?”
“For a pet?”
“No, for dinner.”
Ellie shook her head vigorously.
Abby relaxed into her chair. There was something about the weather that felt different. The light was still kind of—she struggled for a word—diluted, like there was a lot of moisture in the air. Or maybe there were very thin clouds very high up that signaled the leading edge of the storm. She jumped up to retrieve her cell phone, where she had loaded a weather app, and checked what was going to happen. She read through the local forecast without learning much she didn’t already know. She would describe the entries for the next few days as cautiously pessimistic. Yes, there would be rain—that much was clear. There would be winds, and they might be strong. Or not. There was a small chance of coastal flooding, but not everywhere. Abby had no idea whether her current location was prone to flooding.
She checked for messages and found that Ned had texted briefly. “Storm getting stronger.” That was all—no help. Was stronger a problem?
Suddenly she remembered the binder she had found earlier, with all the firsthand local reports of the Hurricane of 1938, which was still one of the benchmarks for New England storms. Would it scare Ellie to read through it? Heck, would it scare her? She decided to stroll around the perimeter of the house, just to see what was what. No nearby trees to fall on the house: that was good. There were in fact wooden shutters for the windows, and they looked original—which meant they were over a century old. How well would they stand up to a storm? On closer inspection, Abby determined that they had been well maintained, but they were still old. If worse came to worst, it would probably be better to close them than not, because closed they might provide some protection, but open they might fly away and bash somebody else’s property.
Ned hadn’t come out and said that he wanted them to head home before the storm. He’d left it up to her. The weather service was not crying “disaster!” For now she was content to stay put and wait and see. Which, one could argue, might make it too late to change plans. Did she really want Ned to call her and demand that she leave immediately? He was not the kind of man who would do that—he trusted her intelligence and judgment. But she had pitifully little experience with major storms. What to do?
Make dinner. That she could handle. “Ellie, you want to help me cook?”
Ellie can scampering back. “Okay. I saw another crab. The water’s not real deep right there.”
“Depends on the tide, I guess. Do you know about tides?”
“Some. The tide kind of follows the moon, right?”
That discussion carried them through the making and eating of a simple dinner of grilled sausages (Abby’s compromise to Ellie’s suggestion of hot dogs), fresh corn, and local lettuce. When they were clearing the table, Abby asked, “Do you remember any big storms, Ellie?”
“Like the snow last year?”
“Kind of, although winter storms and summer storms aren’t exactly the same. What do you remember?”
“Mostly it kept snowing and snowing, and it was so cold that the wind blew it all around, so every time Daddy shoveled, the path got covered up again. It went on for a long time.”
“That it did. Anyway, I was asking because we might be getting a big storm here, and I’m trying to decide if it’s safe to stay in this house or if it might be smarter if we left before it started.”
“This is an old house, right?” Ellie asked.
“It is, probably over a hundred years old. Why?”
“Then it must have been through plenty of storms and it seems to be in pretty good
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