“Hurry! I see lightning.” Dottie pulled Margaret in by the arm just as a bolt hit the manhole cover on the street below and created a magnificent flash.

Dottie closed the door and took their jackets, hanging them on the coatrack in the foyer, and set the umbrellas in a stand made just for that purpose.

It was good to be inside.

Warm. Dry. Heaven.

“I knew you girls would be hungry, so everything is ready.” She led them down the long Oriental rug in the hallway and into the dining room, which was lined with a wall of beveled glass windows. She closed the drapes, no doubt wanting to keep the storm from view.

The table was set for three with salads already plated.

“It’s just us girls tonight,” she announced. “George took a few days off and is in Albany with his dad opening up a new storefront. He wanted to come home when he heard about the storm on the radio, but I begged him to stay so he wouldn’t get caught in it.”

“The Refrigerator King still does work for the family business?” Margaret smiled at John’s old nickname for him.

“More like the Refrigerator Prince, if we’re being accurate,” Gladys chimed in.

Dottie rolled her eyes. “Poke all the fun you want. It might not be as highfalutin as being a Wall Street banker, but before you know it, every household in America will have a dishwasher. Just wait and see.”

Gladys leaned over and kissed her cheek. “If all that truly mattered to me, I wouldn’t be marrying a newspaper reporter.”

“Marrying!” Dottie dropped her salad fork on her plate and a small tomato rolled onto the floor. Her squeal could power any loss that New York would suffer in the storm.

“Dearly beloved, we are gathered here today to tell you that I have proposed to Oliver Barnes.”

“I think I’m going to need some wine for this.” Dottie stood up and opened a cabinet that was filled with every kind of liquor one could imagine, amber hues and dark browns, bottles more artistic than what they contained. She pulled out a crystal decanter and scooped up three goblets.

“Here we are, ladies. I don’t know anything about vintages, but George and I like this red one. And there’s more where this came from.” She poured generously for each of them.

A bolt of lightning flashed outside, bright enough to see through the closed curtains. The wind raged and they heard a tree limb crack and fall onto the roof.

Margaret jumped.

Even Dottie looked worried. “I have never seen a storm like this.”

“I ordered it up. You know me, Hurricane Gladys!”

“You know about that?” asked Margaret.

“Don’t worry, love. It’s the perfect nickname. I’m just jealous that I didn’t think of it first.”

Dottie crossed her arms. “You’re stalling.”