The Billionaire Playboy(2)

“I noticed that you repainted the living room. It looks nice.” Idle chatter would help her mom pass the time and focus on something other than the hurricane and Sean's absence. Drumming her fingers on her leg she waited in the semi-darkness for her mom to answer.

“It hadn't been done in a long time. Sean thought it was a good idea,” Maureen replied as the sound of heavy footsteps coming down the stairs alerted them to Sean's arrival.

Before Charlie could comment further all six feet three inches of her brother appeared along with his giant dog. Immediately the smell of wet dog assaulted her senses. No wonder it had taken Sean so long to get down there. He'd gone outside. What had he been thinking?

“You two okay? The big maple near the shed just went down. The roots were ripped right out of the ground.” Sean pulled a chair next to Charlie's.



***



Charlie blew a strand of hair which had escaped from her bun out of her face and rolled her shoulders. Sweat trickled down her back causing her t-shirt to stick to her skin. More than anything she wanted a hot shower to wash away the grime and sweat covering her body.

Since early morning she'd been systematically going through town with the other volunteers checking on its citizens and assessing the damage. It wasn't a pretty sight. The once picture-perfect New England town looked as if a Navy bomber had dropped a missile on North Salem, Massachusetts. The most severe damage was down by the river where the dam once stood. The entire area now sat under several feet of water. Charlie and several others were slowly working their way to that end of the town. Toppled trees and downed power lines made the trip slow and dangerous. On the positive side though, there had been very few serious injuries reported. Most of the ones she'd seen or heard about involved gashes from breaking glass and thrown-out backs from moving tree limbs and other debris. With any luck it would stay that way.

Rolling her shoulders Charlie looked around at the other volunteers. Many of them leaned against trees or sat on the rain-drenched ground oblivious to the mud as they took a much-deserved break. Like her, most had started working hours earlier, the minute the storm passed. Despite the fatigue clawing at her body, Charlie didn't join the others. She needed to keep working. When there was work to do, she couldn't rest. After taking a long drink of water, she tossed the bottle back in her backpack and walked over to Tony Bates, the town administrator’s son.

“I'm gonna check on Mrs. Mitchell. No one I've talked to has seen her since before the hurricane.” Without waiting for a response she navigated her way across the minefield of fallen trees and debris toward the old widow's house. She had no idea how old Mrs. Mitchell was, but she guessed she had to be close to eighty. According to her mom, Mrs. Mitchell had been living alone since her daughter moved to North Carolina the previous summer.

The single-story ranch looked exactly as Charlie remembered when she'd taken piano lessons in the fourth grade. White paint covered the exterior while black shutters, several of which were missing, framed each window. The only differences were the shattered glass windows and the fallen trees. An empty hole occupied the spot where the doorbell should have been so Charlie pounded on the front door and waited for a response. When no answer came, Charlie looked through the nearest window but all she saw was an empty living room.

Maybe she went to the basement. Charlie took the steps two at a time. She'd spent enough time at Mrs. Mitchell’s house to know that the only way into the basement was through the bulkhead around the side of the house.

When she reached the bulkhead she found a young oak tree lying across it, making it impossible for her to open the door. Getting down on her hands and knees she pounded on the metal door. “Mrs. Mitchell it's Charlotte O'Brien,” she shouted. “Are you okay?”

“I can't get the door open,” a familiar soft voice answered, sounding frazzled.

Relief washed over her. The elderly woman was safe. “There's a tree covering the door. Are you hurt?”#p#分页标题#e#

“I'm hungry and cold, but not hurt.”

“Just sit tight and I'll have you out in no time.”

Although not huge, the tree would have to be cut up before it could be moved. Cupping her hands around her mouth she called out, “I need some help over here. Bring a chainsaw. Mrs. Mitchell is trapped in the basement.”

At the request for help several other volunteers stopped what they were doing and ran over. By the time the others arrived Charlie had already started to pull away some of the loose tree limbs. “Mike, just make the pieces manageable for now. You can cut them smaller later.”