Chapter 68: Nicole - The Storm

The storm hits in the early hours of Tuesday morning. I hear it approaching long before I feel it. The wind howling across the lake, rain hammering on the roof of the building, the distant groan of trees bending under the pressure. Storms aren’t unusual at this time of year, but this one has weight. A heaviness that demands we pay attention, and take action.

By morning, the lake is a churning grey mass, whitecaps slamming against the jetty. The launch tosses about, tied to the mooring post, rocking violently, ropes straining. I’m already in Reception when Chloe arrives, a concerned expression on her face and her hair damp from the walk over from wherever she has been.

“Any word from Cordwell about the road?” she asks.

“Not yet,” I say. “Helen is speaking with someone in April’s office.”

As if summoned, Helen appears in the doorway, looking more harassed than usual.

“The road to the dam is closed,” she says. “There’s a fallen tree near the first bend. They’re clearing it, but it’ll take a few hours.”

Chloe nods once. “Then departures are suspended.”

I agree immediately. “The lake’s too rough anyway. We’d never get the launch out safely.”

Chloe goes over to the window, watching the spray leap over the jetty. “We’ll wait until the water settles, and Cordwell confirms that the road is clear.”

“Understood,” I say.

It’s the only sensible call. But it won’t make the next part any easier. Members scheduled to leave today are already gathering in Reception. Those with long distances to travel are getting restless and impatient, wearing expressions that say ‘this is inconvenient’ and ‘someone should fix this’. I take a breath, straighten my skirt, and step forward. The first Black cat approaches the counter before I even speak.

“What is being done?” she asks as though I can magically improve the weather. “I have a meeting in the city this afternoon.”

“I understand,” I reply calmly. “But the lake is unsafe for travel, and the road to Cordwell is blocked. We’ll resume departures as soon as conditions allow.”

She huffs. “Can’t you send the launch anyway?”

I look at her and gesture toward the window. “Not without risking it capsizing.”

She sighs, defeated. “Fine.”

One down. Next is a Blue cat who keeps wringing her hands. “Do you know how long the delay will be?”

“Not yet,” I say. “Workmen from Cordwell are clearing the road. Once we have confirmation the road is open, and the lake settles, we’ll begin departures.”

She nods, reassured by the certainty in my voice even though I’ve only promised the obvious.

Then a trio of Black cats approach together, all talking at once.

“This is unacceptable.” “I need to be home tonight.” “Can’t you call someone.”

I raise a hand gently. “One at a time.”

I explain the situation again as calmly and clearly as I can, and without apology. They grumble, but they listen.

Chloe stands near the doorway, arms folded, watching the room with that quiet, protective vigilance she carries everywhere now. She doesn’t intervene. She doesn’t need to. She knows I have this under control. But her presence helps calm the agitated women in the same way Monique’s presence would bring calm.

“Please return to your suites or wait in the lounge here,” I say. “You will be notified as soon as we can resume departures.”