“Eleanor’s here.” Mum shut the window with a bang, making sure it was latched and locked.
“Yeah, she sure is,” I agreed.
“Who? I didn’t hear the doorbell.” Gran shifted in her chair and moved her stick to her left hand.
“No, Gran. Storm Eleanor.”
“Don’t know an Eleanor Storm. Who is she?”
Mum took over. “The storm we’re having is called ‘Eleanor’; the previous one was Dillon.”
“Huh!” muttered Gran. “In my day, we just called them ‘a gale’ and you knew what they were. Didn’t have to name ’em, like precious little princesses.”
“Yeah, she sure is,” I agreed.
“Who? I didn’t hear the doorbell.” Gran shifted in her chair and moved her stick to her left hand.
“No, Gran. Storm Eleanor.”
“Don’t know an Eleanor Storm. Who is she?”
Mum took over. “The storm we’re having is called ‘Eleanor’; the previous one was Dillon.”
“Huh!” muttered Gran. “In my day, we just called them ‘a gale’ and you knew what they were. Didn’t have to name ’em, like precious little princesses.”
