The satellite radio also brought news that help was coming; the National Guard and the U.S. Navy were on their way.

There was no power, no water. Never mind rebuilding it; just cleaning it all up would require a Herculean effort.

Someone discovered that if you stood on the third-floor balcony of the Dolphin Market building downtown, you could get a very weak cell signal. Hey, it was better than nothing, and before we knew it, that balcony was as crowded as the bar at Skinny Legs after the Eight Tuff Miles race. A line started to form because someone wisely pointed out that the balcony would hold only so much weight and the last thing we wanted was for someone who’d survived the hurricane to plunge to his or her death trying to call Cousin Randy in Baltimore.

The balcony and the line to get to the balcony became the place where we connected not only with the outside world but also with each other. Nestor from Pine Peace Market let everyone know that he would open the store. The owners of the Longboard would cook a community dinner, everyone welcome. There would be stir-fry and Chinese noodles over at 420 to Center.

Someone declared that what he really wanted was Candi’s barbecue—but, alas, Candi’s didn’t survive.

Those who had generators and gas offered assistance to those who didn’t. Other items we needed included chain saws, bottled water, shovels, and insect repellent—because the heavy, still, hot weather that arrived in Inga’s wake brought all the familiar bugs as well as larger, flashier, meaner bugs that looked like they’d escaped from some exotic tropical zoo. Because money had no immediate value, people bartered. Overall, there was a spirit of gratitude and compassion for our fellow islanders, even those we had previously disliked. The hurricane had happened to all of us—West Indian, white, Latinx, Catholic, Episcopalian, evangelical, Cruz Bay, Coral Bay.

Had anyone seen the wild donkeys? Where, oh where, did the donkeys take cover in the storm?

No sooner does the storm clear than someone sees Margaret Quinn herself in a pair of Hunter rain boots and a bright green anorak broadcasting from the Cruz Bay ferry dock. Margaret Quinn! Candice from the St. John Business Center and several others saw Margaret’s broadcast from the night before Inga hit, but the rest of us, of course, were too busy preparing for the storm to casually watch TV. After Margaret Quinn finishes her spiel on the dock—what can she say but that St. John sustained monumental damage that will take a long time to recover from?—she insists on walking over to the Dolphin Market building so she can talk to real people. We see her producer and even the camerawoman trying to dissuade her but Margaret Quinn strides ahead. That’s why we love her, after all; she’s a strong, independent woman who will do what it takes to get to the beating heart of a story.

Margaret sees a couple about her age waiting at the end of the line. The woman—nice-looking with a neat chestnut braid—is handing out what appear to be cookies to the people ahead of her in line.

“Lemongrass sugar cookies,” Margaret overhears her saying. “Homemade.”

This will be her first interview, Margaret decides. A woman who brought homemade cookies to share while she stands in line to maybe get a cell phone signal is someone Margaret would like to meet. “Excuse me,” Margaret says, touching the woman’s elbow.

The couple turn and the woman’s eyes widen. “Why!”

The man says, “Holy smokes. Margaret Quinn!”

The woman holds out the platter. “Would you like one? They’re lemongrass sugar cookies. Homemade.”

“I’d love one,” Margaret says.

Their names are Captain Huck Powers and Irene Steele. Margaret had pegged them for a long-married couple but she’s apparently mistaken. This must be one of these magic relationships—not unlike Margaret and Drake—where people of a certain age find love later in life.

Huck reveals that he’s a charter fishing captain who has lived on St. John for over twenty years. His boat is called the Mississippi. Irene is from Iowa City; she moved to the island in February because she needed a life change.

Huck wraps his arm around Irene’s shoulder and pulls her in close. “She sure changed my life.”

Who are Huck and Irene waiting to call? Family back in Iowa?

“Most of my family is here,” Irene says. “My son Baker and his girlfriend, Ayers, had a baby last night at home.”

Margaret thinks she must have misunderstood. “They had a crying baby last night at home?”

“They had a baby last night,” Irene says. “Ayers gave birth in the bedroom with a nurse practitioner who happens to be a friend of the family. So I have a brand-new granddaughter.”

Margaret can’t help herself. “Will she be named Inga?”

“Oh,” Irene says. “I hope not.”

“No,” Huck says. “They haven’t settled on a name yet, but rest assured, it will not be Inga.”

Irene says, “And that’s not all. My other son, Cash”—here, Irene pivots and casts a concerned glance behind them, at the water—“is over on Lovango Cay with his friend Tilda. Her family is building an eco-resort on Lovango, and, if I’m not mistaken, Cash and Tilda are the only two people on the entire island. I’m going to try to call Cash to make sure they made it through okay.”

This is such a good local story that Margaret feels like she hit the jackpot on the first try. She asks Huck and Irene to repeat all of this—including the shtick about the name Inga—with the cameras rolling. She has Linda get a close-up of the cookies and then she asks Linda to pan across the water toward Lovango Cay.

When they finish filming, Irene says, “I’m not one to play the name game but I think you know my cousin.”

Margaret smiles. She loves this woman, this couple; they’re authentic and charming, and even if Margaret has no idea who Irene’s cousin is, she might pretend she does. “Who’s your cousin?”

“Mitzi Quinn,” Irene says.

Ha! Margaret thinks. Ha-ha-ha! “Mitzi? Mitzi is your cousin?”

Irene nods shyly. Huck looks lost. “Who’s Mitzi?”

“Mitzi was married to my ex-husband for many years,” Margaret says. “Mitzi’s son, Bart, is my children’s half brother.” She beams. “We’re practically related!” She pulls out a business card and hands it to Irene. “Please, let’s keep in touch. If you ever need anything…”

“Thank you,” Irene says.

Margaret tilts her head. “Before I move on, I have to ask one more question. How did the two of you meet?”

Irene and Huck smile at each other and Margaret can see something pass between them that seems to indicate it’s a story too complicated for a sound bite. Of course, Margaret thinks. All the best stories are.

“We could tell you,” Huck says. “But you’d never believe it.”

Irene

Cash and Tilda are okay. The cell phone reception when she’s talking to Cash goes in and out but the gist is that they’re going to stay on Lovango for a few days to try to clean up before they take the skiff back over to St. John.

“It was scary,” Cash admits. “The cottage shook so bad, we felt like dice in a cup. During the worst of it, I looped my belt through the handle of the front door and pulled, and Tilda sat behind me, bracing me. We knew if we lost the door, the roof would be next.”