A Spirited Gift

“A few years.” I related her history. “She’s a good mayor. I like talking to her. She’s always coming up with new ideas I can steal for Duck.”

He laughed. “It’s all about taking care of Duck, huh? That’s the only reason you agreed to go out with me—you wanted to make sure I kept the Blue Whale open.”

“It must be those FBI skills that make you so smart.” I hugged him a little tighter and kissed his chin. “As much fun as you are, I have to mingle. There are ideas to steal.”

He held me to him a moment longer. “Are you okay? You seem a little worried. Is it the storm?”

“I’m not worried.”

“Yes, you are. Your forehead wrinkles up when you’re worried. Don’t try to lie to me. I have formal training spotting liars, you know.”

“Really? You know, Gramps says the same thing. You two are cut from the same cloth.”

“In other words, mind my own business. Okay. I can take a hint. I’ll just mingle and try to get people to have other parties here so I can stay in Duck and do what you tell me to do.”

“You’re so good. See you.”

I actually began to relax and enjoy myself as I made the rounds of the room and reacquainted myself with the mayors and their families. The whole feeling of dread was just left over from the séance, I decided. Something about trying to call back the dead probably had that effect on most people.

Just as I was chiding myself about my imagination working overtime, I noticed Chiefs Fargo and Michaels grab for their cell phones at the same time. The devices didn’t make a sound, but I knew there was a problem. I started to reassure myself again that things were all right—they’d let me know when that wasn’t true anymore.

A loud rumble of thunder cracked over us, followed immediately by the power flickering and dying. Something big was thrown against the two-story window, smashing through it—gusts of rain, wind and some glass following quickly behind. Everyone in the room was soaked.

“Looks like we’re catching a bigger part of that storm than we originally thought,” Chief Michaels yelled, his voice booming over the shrieks of the frightened crowd and the howling from outside. “We’re going to move everyone to the lobby. No need to panic. We all know storms around here. Just move quickly and no one will get hurt.”

Chapter 4

Everyone did as the chief asked. We were escorted to the lobby and asked to sit on the floor. There was only one window. It was another large two-story plateglass window that faced the front entrance. But we were seated well away from it, almost tucked behind the stairs.

Kevin and the two chiefs walked around handing out towels, making sure everyone was as comfortable as they could be, reminding us to put our heads down and protect them with our arms.

It was an unusual way to wait out a storm—even for someone who’d been through many of them. All the men and women were in their formal attire, stretched out across the floor. Most were calm about it, trying their cell phones and PDAs to see if they had service. Kevin handed out a few toys to frightened children in the crowd. Some people prayed and urged others to pray with them.

We were probably one of the best-dressed, least panicked groups across the island. Too bad there was no award in that category. Nearly every adult had attended emergency protocol briefings at one time or another and knew what was expected from them. We’d all worked to keep large groups of residents calm through problem situations. It was part of our jobs as mayors.

Voices were subdued as the wind moaned and clawed at the inn. I could hear objects hitting the walls and roof as trees and other debris were tossed around like the toys Kevin had given out. I saw him wince as we heard more glass breaking upstairs.

This storm would probably be costly for residents because we hadn’t realized its severity. The weather service wasn’t a fortune-teller. Storms didn’t always follow the tracks laid out for them. Their unpredictability left people in their paths powerless in the face of fury.

Maybe this was what I’d been feeling. Not just another storm but something worse. I prayed no one would be hurt. We could repair roofs and windows. It was terrible to lose people.

“This was a surprise.” Kevin finally came and sat down close to me. “Guess you can’t always trust the weather service to predict which way a storm will go.”

“You’re better off trusting your bunion, if you have one.” Mayor Barker Whiteside from Corolla laughed. “Wonder if anyone saw one of the warnings?”

“Warnings?” Kevin asked.

“Spirits that walk the beaches before a bad storm.” Gramps was sitting next to me on the other side. “Some of them are specific—they only walk if the storm brings death. Some walk for any major storm.”

“Portents of trouble,” Barker explained. “We have several around here. Of course, we have the horses. They always seem to know.”

“They’re better than the weather service any day,” Mayor David Manning of Elizabeth City added. “Not much good, though, if you’re not out there with them. But they know what’s happening.”