Grits And Glory. Ron Benrey

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СКАЧАТЬ the TV camera and the lights. He slipped his headset over his ears, pushed the attached microphone close to his mouth, and spoke to Cathy McCabe at the Storm Channel’s broadcast headquarters on Long Island.

      “Hi, Cathy. We’re ready in Glory.”

      “Glad to hear it,” she replied. “How’s Gilda so far?”

      “Wet, windy and electric. Mr. Magnificent is worried about being zapped by lightning.”

      “Get a picture if it happens. I know a dozen women who’d want copies.” Cathy’s voice became cool and businesslike. “Switching to Carlo in twenty seconds.”

      Sean pushed the button that connected his microphone to Carlo’s earpiece. “Cue in fifteen seconds.”

      Sean heard Carlo clear his throat. “Four…three…two…” Sean counted softly.

      A red light lit on his console, confirming that an identical light on the camera had signaled Carlo to begin. Sean studied the monitor screen as Carlo spoke into his handheld microphone. As usual, the camera loved Carlo. He looked artlessly elegant even though his jacket’s tunnel-like hood was fully extended to keep his face dry.

      “This is Carlo Vaughn reporting from Glory, North Carolina. It is only four in the afternoon, but the sky is dark in this pretty waterfront town on the Albemarle Sound, an ominous sign of things to come. Another of Gilda’s outer rain bands is dumping precipitation on Glory.”

      A gust of wind suddenly tugged at Carlo’s hood and he grabbed at it with his free hand.

      “Most of Glory’s six thousand residents have moved to higher ground, leaving a handful of emergency personnel to deal with the approaching hurricane. They’ve been told to prepare for major damage.

      “Gilda is the most powerful hurricane to threaten the Albemarle region in more than a decade. The current forecast predicts steady winds exceeding one hundred miles per hour when Gilda arrives in Glory less than an hour from now.”

      Sean adjusted the image when a lightning flash illuminated the sky behind Carlo’s head. A moment later, the rumble of thunder shook the van. Carlo took the interruption in stride. “As you’ve just seen and heard, Gilda is also an electrical storm, which is unusual for a hurricane.”

      “Off in thirty seconds,” Sean informed Carlo softly.

      Carlo unexpectedly took a sideways step. He gazed at the sky to his left and his right, as if he were an expert meteorologist studying the storm. Sean worked the joystick to move the lens to keep Carlo’s face framed in the image. But then, without warning, Carlo stepped closer to the camera, his expression full of compassion and concern. Sean suddenly realized that Carlo was trying to impress Ann Trask.

      Cathy’s voice filled Sean’s headphone. “What’s your boy doing? It looks like he’s trying to climb into the viewers’ laps.”

      “You don’t want to know,” Sean said grimly.

      Carlo began to speak. “The small cadre of people who chose to remain in Glory will soon be tested by Gilda’s fury. I call them the courageous few.

      “We’re broadcasting from the parking lot of a church that may provide emergency shelter when the storm hits. The person on duty inside—a young woman named Ann Trask—is willing to brave the danger, not for personal gain, but in the spirit of public service. Stay tuned—we’ll hear Ms. Trask’s observations about Gilda during our next broadcast.

      “Glory—we’re with you. This is Carlo Vaughn signing off for now.”

      Sean killed the connection to the TV camera.

      Blast the man! He put a phony quiver in his voice and his eyes looked weepy.

      Sean poked angrily at more buttons on his control console. It wouldn’t matter to Ann that Carlo knew next to nothing about the weather. She wouldn’t care that he was merely imitating a knowledgeable meteorologist. Nope! Like every other female with a pulse, she’d be dazzled by his smarmy good looks. Sean sighed as he zipped up his jacket and prepared to go outside to retrieve the camera and tripod.

      Ann Trask is a grown woman. She’ll have to fend for herself in Carlo-land.

      “Perhaps I shouldn’t say this,” Ann said, “but I’m delighted you stayed in town this evening.” She positioned a golf umbrella to shield Richard Squires’s back from driving rain, fighting against the wind. His big-brimmed baseball cap seemed to be doing a good job keeping rain off his face.

      “They won’t let me leave Glory,” he said with a laugh. “I manage the crew that keeps the rest of the emergency personnel well fed. More light on the right side of the engine, please.”

      Ann shifted the powerful utility light she held in her other hand and wished she could do more to help Richard. He was a self-taught expert on engine maintenance and a restorer of vintage cars when he wasn’t managing Squires’ Place, one of Glory’s best restaurants. He also sang tenor in Glory Community’s choir.

      He picked up a wrench. “One of these days, we’ll have to buy a replacement fuel pump, but this fix will keep the engine running throughout Gilda’s visit.”

      “Amen!” Ann murmured.

      He went on, “I’m glad that TV fellow tested the generator—I should have done it this morning.”

      “You’re one of our most valuable volunteers, Richard. I thank you for all you do for the church.”

      She watched Richard stretch to work on the back of the engine. “This is one of those times I wish I was taller,” he said. Even standing on a step stool, Richard, who was only an inch or two taller than Ann, had difficulty reaching deep into the generator’s cabinet.

      Her cell phone rang.

      “Give me the utility light,” Richard said. “That’ll free up your right hand.”

      Ann managed to flip her phone open and was surprised to find her brother calling.

      “Alan! Everything all right with Mom?” she asked.

      “Mom’s fine—and proud as punch.”

      “About?”

      “You didn’t hear it?”

      “Hear what?”

      “You’re famous! Carlo Vaughn talked about you on the Storm Channel.”

      “Oh, no! What did he say?” Ann laughed.

      “He called you one of the ‘courageous few.’ Even better—he’s going to put you on the air later today.”

      “I’ve never been on TV before.” Ann saw Richard struggling with the utility light and the wrench. “I have to run, Alan. Thanks for the news! I’ll call you later. Love to Mom.”

      Richard extracted himself from the generator box. “I only heard one side of your conversation, but it seems to me that you should find yourself a TV set. The Storm Channel often repeats Carlo Vaughn’s broadcasts.”

      “You СКАЧАТЬ