Gladys nodded. “I called ahead and told her we’d be over for dinner. Can you believe it? George bought her not one, but two telephones. One for each floor of the house.”

“Awfully convenient for times like this, isn’t it?”

“Yes. I’m going to teach her to use it for good. I’ve signed her up to make campaign calls in the upcoming election.”

Margaret grinned and shook her head. “Of course you have.”

“And I fully expect your participation as well.”

“And of course you have it.”

“Good.” Gladys checked her wristwatch. “I’ll meet you on the promenade in an hour. We can go together.”

*  *  *

Margaret could hardly open the door of the welding room. It was always heavy, but this time, she had to push every ounce of her weight into it. As soon as she saw the first crack of light, a wind gust blew past and it was all she could do to keep the door from slamming back into her.

“I’ve got it!” she heard from the other side. There was Gladys, pulling as Margaret pushed, and at last they opened it enough for Margaret to slip through.

“There’s a storm coming,” Gladys shouted over the howl.

Margaret walked to the railing on the promenade and looked at the bay where the half-built frame of the Coral Sea bobbed in the water. The men working on it kept their balance, but she could tell that it was an effort. She’d never experienced anything like this.

“I can see that! It seemed to come out of nowhere.”

“I read in the newspaper that mid-September is the height of the Atlantic hurricane season. But it doesn’t usually hit us here.”

“This is a hurricane?”

“Heck if I know, but look at that sky. It’s a different shade of gray than in a regular storm.”

Margaret glanced up, gripping her felt hat so that it wouldn’t fly away. Indeed, there was an ominous cloud covering that sent a chill through her bones, darkening the sky well before sunset. Her parents were away in Pennsylvania visiting relatives and sourcing leather, and she was glad that they were out of this storm’s path.

A metal screw flew past, skimming her cheek. Instinctively, she ducked in case there were any more.

“Do you think it’s still safe to go to Dottie’s? She’s right on the water,” Margaret shouted. She pressed her hand against her face. It was just a surface cut. Nothing that would last.

“I think so. If it hits hard enough, my little basement will flood. And your electricity is spotty in the best of circumstances. At least we can go and help her with the baby.”

Margaret nodded and followed Gladys to the exit, where they’d pick up the bus that would take them to Shore Road.

“Get in, girls! The rain is going to start any minute.”