Agatha didn’t look well. She didn’t act well. She spent whole days in her chair by the front window, brooding and watching the occasional car or pedestrian go by. The flood woke her up. The flood and her new pacemaker. The change was miraculous. She came out of the ordeal looking even smaller and more fretful than she had before, but a lot of her old energy came back, her erect posture, her strong voice, her fiery opinions. (p. 5)
This is my fourth Hassler book. I told my friend, Carol, that it was my least favorite, but that may just be because I’m growing out of my Agatha McGee phase.
In The Staggerford Flood, Agatha, is eighty and declining in health. Honestly, if this had been the first book I’d read, I wouldn’t have liked her at all. In this particular story she’s crotchety and bossy until she experiences regeneration through the flood. As people drift into her home looking for higher ground, Agatha’s “take charge” personality resurfaces and she offers refuge to each one.
Although not my favorite Hassler book, this one filled in a few of the blanks about what happened to James, Agatha’s dear friend from the first two books.