Noah grinned and ruffled her hair. He’d taught her blackjack back in the day to help sharpen her math skills, and she’d become quite quick with the cards. He hoped it wouldn’t someday come back to bite him in the ass.

“Dad, I’m quitting college to become a blackjack dealer on a cruise ship.”

“So, how’s school going? Are you still having trouble with fractions?”

Sara flopped over backwards to sprawl across the rug. “Dad, can we please talk about normal stuff for once?”

Noah frowned. “School’s normal. Isn’t it?”

Sara’s sigh of frustration was Emmy-worthy. “Dad, you treat every conversation like some chance for a life lesson. Can’t you just be human every once in a while?”

“I’m your father,” he reminded her. “It’s my job to make sure—”

“Yeah, yeah. That I don’t destroy my future by making bad decisions now,” she parroted his own words back at him with more than a hint of sass. “I get it, but why can’t we talk about other things too?”

“Like what?”

“Like how about this giant hurricane that’s drowning Merry? How are we going to help people and fix stuff? What’s going to happen to the Christmas Festival? Or why haven’t you dated anyone in forever?”

“Geez, kid. I thought we’d wade into real stuff with a talk about favorite cheeses or something.”

“Cheddar. Next,” Sara deadpanned from the floor. She was wearing the ridiculous mermaid scale pajamas he’d gotten her for Christmas the previous year. Mellody, his ex-wife, had helpfully sent him the link suggesting their daughter would love them.

Noah cleared his throat.

In so many ways, Sara was still a little girl. He’d thought he’d been protecting her by keeping her out of storm prep. “Well, there’s going to be flooding. We know that for sure. I’m worried about how much the water will rise overnight. The lower end of town by the park is going to have the most damage, and the fire department contacted everyone there to make sure they know that the old high school will be open as a shelter.”

Sara sat up and slumped against the ottoman.

“Are you worried?” Sara asked, her pretty brown eyes assessing.

He hesitated for a second. “Yeah. Are you?” A gust of wind rattled the front window.

“Yeah.”

“We’re going to be fine—”

“I’m not worried for us. We might have a leaky roof and stuff, but we’re on a hill. I’m worried about April. She lives across from the park. And what about Mrs. Pringle? She’s all alone in a wheelchair. Remember how bad her basement flooded this spring?”