"Yes," he nodded as we stopped. "We made it to the storm cellar in time. This was the worst I've ever seen. I don't know what we'll do, rebuild I gues...." He shook his head in sorrow.Over his shoulder, a woman about the same age, waved at us. The gesture was perfunctory, and surely not one displaying joy.Midge said, "All right, glad you're safe. We're going to check on Gus Riley down the road." She nudged me to turn around. We rode back down the driveway to the country road, and moved further. She had not fancied the idea of her Aunt Muriella controlling her fortune for her. He stood nervously in the doorway, uncertain of himself, with the awkward stance of a youth not quite at ease in his own body. Perhaps, she thought, he had only recently become so handsome. Because handsome he was, with his dark hair tied back and his white shirt straining over his broad shoulders. She dropped her eyes to his hips, and noticed the livery badge of her father embroidered there. Her livery badge. More

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