Chip looked up from his Shureluck Jones novel to see that Gadget was still pacing in the candlelight. The wind was howling outside, and the old oak swayed constantly from the force of it. From time to time it would shake violently in a strong gust. The combined sounds of the wind and driving rain produced a constant thrumming moan that was downright eerie.

It had been several years since a major hurricane had hit New York State. And although they had managed to again avoid a direct hit, Greta was still causing havoc. She had formed off the coast of the Cape Verde islands more than two weeks ago and slowly made her way across the Atlantic, building strength and size until she was a massive 420 mile wide category 5 storm. As she encountered the Gulf Stream, she slowly turned from her almost direct course towards Charleston and headed north.

As all Atlantic storms traversing the eastern seaboard did to some degree, she slowly edged out to sea, losing some strength as she encountered cooler northern waters, and was eventually downgraded to a category 4 storm. But due to her size, she lashed the entire length of the East Coast with category 2 and 3 winds, and storm surges in places reached seven feet even though she never officially made landfall. And she was in no hurry to get anywhere. She took her time, averaging just under 8 mph, flooding community after community.

At the moment, she was centered 98 miles off the coast of Long Island, moving NNE at 9 mph. She was still a low category 4, but was expected to be downgraded to a 3 in the next forecast. Windspeeds at the treehouse were averaging 88 mph, with gusts over 100, occasionally pushing upwards of 110.

They had certainly had their fair share of storms, and the treehouse always came through with flying colors. But this was different. The combination of constant wind and rain was taking its toll. Despite the shielding foliage of the boughs, rain was still seeping in around the doors, windows, and vents in every room. It wasn't severe enough to be considered dangerous, merely annoying. Pots, pans, and buckets were collecting most of it.

The initial plan was to board up all of the windows. Unfortunately the wood that Gadget had spent weeks steaming and bending and drying so they would have the proper curvature to match the tree in case the need ever arose, had warped even further in storage. In a scramble Gadget had managed to find some wood warped well enough to cover the main windows, but that was all. Rain was trying to get past the door, but a couple of towels stuffed around the jamb had stymied it. Elsewhere in the house, the drafts, leaks, and baleful soughing of the wind made the other rooms all but uninhabitable. Thankfully, though, the main room wasn't crowded.

Monterey Jack was visiting his parents, along with Zipper. It had been years since they all managed to be in the same place at the same time, and when Kate wrote Monty to say she and Charlie would both be in Florida he was compelled to join them. Of course, then Greta showed up, extending his stay against his will (though he probably didn't mind).

Two days ago, the need to move the Ranger Wing out of harm's way became apparent. Foxglove heard Gadget fretting about where to take it and offered the location of a cave she used to roost in. After some debate, (mostly at Foxy's insistence) it was decided that Dale would pilot the Ranger Wing there and stay with it (and Foxy, of course). That left Chip and Gadget to hold down the fort at Ranger Headquarters.

They had spent most of yesterday bringing in everything they could and tying down everything they could not. They got out all the empty containers they could find (which turned out to be a wise precaution), and then made a supply run to stock up on non-perishables, batteries, candles, and bottled water. Then they installed the boards Gadget had managed to scrounge up over the main windows. Gadget vowed to perfect her warping method so if this situation ever arose again they would be ready.

Greta made her presence known last night. First the wind began to pick up, followed by light, scattered showers. By this morning, tropical storm conditions prevailed, and by mid-afternoon, they were in a hurricane. It hadn't taken long for the power to fail. Gadget had been pacing ever since. Occasionally she would stop and sit, but invariably she would be up again in only a few minutes. She always had been more susceptible to cabin fever than the rest of them, but she usually could distract herself by tinkering in her workshop. Not so today.

She nearly jumped out of her skin when the alert tones of the weather radio began playing, followed by the computerized voice.

"The national weather service in Upton, New York has issued a severe thunderstorm warning for Bronx, Kings, New York, Queens, Richland, Rockland, and Westchester counties. At 9:17PM Eastern Daylight Time National Weather Service Doppler Radar indicated a thunderstorm capable of producing large hail and damaging winds. The thunderstorm was located 7 miles north-northeast of the city of Bedford, and was moving southwest at 42 miles per hour. Severe thunderstorms can produce torrential rain, damaging winds, and deadly lightn-."

Gadget switched the radio off angrily.

"Golly, Chip, do you really think it's necessary to warn people about the wind and rain possibilities of a thunderstorm embedded in a category 4 hurricane, especially when it's already been raining heavily with steady category one and two winds for the last six hours?"

She took a deep breath, and as she did, a rumble of thunder seemed to answer her question.

"It's an automated system, Gadget. I doubt they'd take the time to reprogram everything when they've already got their hands full with Greta."

She crossed her arms across her chest and Chip braced himself for the rambling technical rebuttal, but it didn't come. He looked at her more closely. Her face was set in a nervous frown, her eyes seemed far away. He had assumed her restlessness was a result of being cooped up with nothing to do. Perhaps it was something else.

"Gadget? Is everything okay?"

It was several moments before her eyes re-focused, as though there were a delay between her hearing the question and processing it. She looked at him and smiled cheerfully.

"Oh, I'm fine. At least as fine as you can be in a hurricane. Which isn't to say that we're in any danger from the hurricane, just that it's always better to not be in a hurricane. But since we are in a hurricane, we're doing as well as we can be expected to be." She looked around. "I think."

His narrowed his eyes and looked into hers. "Are you sure?"

"Golly, Chip, of course I'm sure."

She turned and began pacing again.

He sighed quietly. He knew the greatest case he could ever solve would be the mystery of women. However, he had long ago resigned himself to the fact that it was a case he likely never would. He went back to his novel, and a few minutes later came to the end of a chapter. He marked his place, closed the book, laid it on the floor beside the couch, stood, and stretched.

"Well, I think I'm going to turn in," he said.

"Golly, already? It's only nine-thirty." His declaration seemed to have made her more nervous.

"Well, there's only so much reading you can do, even when it's Shureluck Jones. And Greta will be gone by daybreak, so if I turn in early, I can get right out and start assessing the damage at first light."

"Oh. That…sounds like a good idea."

She was wringing her hands. Chip knew it was usually not a good idea to press her when she insisted she was fine, but it was so obvious that something was bothering her that, as her friend, he could not in good conscience at least press a little bit. He gave her a concerned look.

"Gadget…are you sure nothing's bothering you? 'Cause if there is…I'd like to help."

Her expression softened. "Thanks, Chip. But I'm okay." Her words and tone continued to dispute each other. But he certainly couldn't make her talk.

"Okay. But if you change your mind…I'm here."

Having changed into his nightshirt before piling up on the couch a few hours ago, he lay down one of the two pallets they had made behind the couch. Neither of them were too keen on the idea of sleeping in their rooms. He pulled the blanket to his shoulders and rolled so his back was to the door, and to Gadget.

"Leave the candles burn as long as you like," he said. "They won't bother me."

"I will, thanks."

"Goodnight, Gadget."

"Goodnight, Chip."