Chapter 3

Morgan dropped Chester off at home and drove straight to the grocery store to restock her bare cupboards and empty fridge. Out of habit, she grabbed Quinn’s favorite potato chips and then remembered her friend was over a thousand miles away.

She promptly put the bag back on the shelf. Who knew how long before Quinn returned…if she returned?

Morgan made it to the end of the aisle before turning her shopping cart around and going back for the chips. Positive vibes. Quinn would come home. It was not a matter of if, but when.

Returning home, she promptly put the groceries away, sorted through the mail, and started a load of laundry.

Chester stuck close by her side, following Morgan from room to room, determined not to let her out of his sight.

Ting. Morgan’s cell phone chimed. It was a text from Brett asking if she was available. She dialed her brother’s number. “I just finished unpacking.”

“There’s my whirlwind traveling partner,” he playfully teased.

“No kidding. Remind me to bulk up on my vitamins before my next round of visits,” she joked.

“Speaking from experience, it’ll feel good to be in your own bed tonight.”

“I’m sure it will.” Morgan changed the subject. “Will you be home soon?”

“Home as in Easton Estate?”

“Yeah.”

“Actually, I’m pulling in now. I stopped by the art gallery. Grandmother said you were having dinner with us.”

“I am. Wyatt is working. I’m meeting him for breakfast tomorrow.”

“I have an update on the Wynn Harbor Inn project.”

“Good or bad?” she asked.

“More like anticipated. I think it would be best if we discussed it in person.”

Morgan and her brother had partnered with David Wynn to restore his inn on nearby Mackinac Island. The project was originally offered to Easton Holdings Company as an investment. Although Morgan and Brett were on board, Elizabeth was not. Not only not on board, but adamantly opposed to it for various reasons.

Although Morgan understood her point of view, she had met with David Wynn and believed the project was a sound investment with huge potential. And so had Brett, who had been the one to get the ball rolling in the first place.

Instead of Easton Holdings, the project partners were now David Wynn, Morgan, and Brett. But it hadn’t been without complications and family drama, which resulted in Quinn’s abrupt departure from Easton Island.

Going into it with her eyes wide open, Morgan knew the trio faced several hurdles. She suspected one of those hurdles was what Brett wanted to discuss. “We can talk about it after dinner. Have you heard from Quinn?”

“I spoke with her this morning.”

“And?”

“Still no date on when she’s coming back,” he said. “Have you talked to her?”

“Not recently. I figured I would find out from you first.”

“Maybe you should call her,” Brett suggested.

“I will.”

The call ended, and Morgan promptly dialed Quinn’s cell phone number.

“Hey, Morgan.”

“Hey, Quinn.”

“How was the trip?”

“A whirlwind. I lost count of how many properties I visited.”

“I bet. Did you get my message?”

“About what?”

“Apologizing and lamenting the fact we missed out on The Phantom of the Opera production in Toronto.”

“I guess it wasn’t meant to be,” Morgan said. “Maybe next year.”

“Maybe,” Quinn agreed.

“How’s it going down there?”

“It’s almost ninety degrees. I’ve been sweating my butt off, helping Mom and Dad carry boxes into the new condo.”

“What do you think of the place?”

Quinn let out a flirty whistle. “Swanky. They’re retiring in style.”

“Good for them. Tell them I’ll have to come down and check it out.”

“I will. We’ll be finished in the next day or so.”

“Cool,” Morgan said. “So, you’re coming home soon?”

There was silence on the other end of the line. It went on for so long Morgan wondered if they’d been disconnected. “Hello?”

“I’m still here.”

Morgan could almost visualize Quinn biting her lower lip, wondering how to answer now that she’d been put on the spot. “Have you changed your mind about living on Easton Island?”

“You remember the Galeria d’art in Naples?”

“Yeah. You dragged me there every year for their annual Christmas collection,” Morgan joked.

“They offered me a position.”

Morgan grew quiet. “A job at the Galeria?”

“Yep. Dad and the director play at the same golf course. They met in the clubhouse and got to talking. He mentioned me and the director asked me to come in for an interview.” Quinn told her that her first reaction was to decline. “But I thought…what the heck? So, I went.”

“Did you…take the job?”

“No. I have until next week to make my decision,” Quinn said. “Of course, my parents are pushing me to accept.”

Morgan pressed her palm to her forehead. Quinn was her best friend. She’d been by her side through some of the lowest points in her life and now…she might not be returning, or at least not to live.

“It would be selfish of me to beg you to come back to Easton Island even though that’s what I want to do,” she finally said. “This could be the break of a lifetime.”

“I would’ve given my right arm for this job two years ago.”

“But…”

“That was before Easton Island cast its spell on me,” Quinn said. “You’re there. Brett’s there.”

“Have you told Brett?”

“No. Please don’t mention it to him.”

“I won’t,” Morgan promised. “So, I think it’s safe to say you won’t be back for another week. Does Grandmother know?”

“She does. I called her about an hour ago. She told me it was an incredible opportunity and she wouldn’t blame me if I accepted the position.”

“It’s a big decision,” Morgan said. “If it doesn’t work out, you can pack up and fly back. You’ll always have a place here with me.”

“Thanks. I’m torn right now. Part of me is telling me I’m an idiot if I turn it down. The other part is reminding me how much I miss all of you.”

“If you need to talk, let me know.” Morgan almost mentioned Amber Marais and decided against it. Quinn had enough on her plate without worrying about her friend.

The call finally ended, and she stared at the phone, replaying the conversation over in her mind. She needed someone to talk to, someone with a sympathetic ear and sound advice. Her grandmother fit the bill but had enough going on without her granddaughter burdening her with her problems.

She grabbed her purse and hopped into her SUV for the short drive to Bean Brewing, the coffee shop her friend Ariel Vanmeter owned. Morgan had no trouble finding a parking spot on the main street. The town, typically bustling and busy, was eerily quiet.

Morgan trekked inside and found her friend standing behind the counter, cell phone in hand. The place was empty.

Her face lit when she noticed Morgan. “Hey, stranger.”

“Hey, Ariel.” She darted around to the back and hugged her friend. “Where is everyone?”

“Elin Jensen over at the bakery and I were just talking. I guess they’re hanging out in Easton Harbor.”

Morgan had noticed the harbor seemed busy earlier, as opposed to Locke Village. She suspected it was because the island’s ferry docked over on that side, which meant it was the first place islanders and visitors landed when they arrived.

Easton Airport had been busy, but it was also a distance away. In other words, Locke Village wasn’t a major thoroughfare and a little off the beaten path. There was something to be said about a cozy, charming village, but when you were a business owner, you needed traffic…foot traffic to pay the bills and keep the lights on.

Ariel shrugged. “It’ll pick up soon. Can I tempt you with your favorite Easton Island Zinger?”

“Tempt away. On second thought, make it a double.” Ariel’s cinnamon mocha coffee concoction was one of her signature beverages. Islanders made a special trip to Locke Village just to buy the caffeine creation.

“I think I’ll have one too.” Ariel made quick work of mixing the frothy beverages.

“My treat.” Morgan pulled up the payment app on her phone.

“No charge.”

“Yes, charge,” she argued. “I insist.”

“Fine.” Ariel rang up the sale, but only for a single beverage.

The friends settled at the empty table near the window and Ariel filled Morgan in on what had happened while she was gone. “So, nothing exciting,” she summed it up.

Morgan sipped her coffee, eyeing her friend over the rim of the cup. “Amber Marais is here.”

“She is. She came in yesterday and ordered a latte. It took me three tries before she was happy with it. Amber is such a pain in the butt,” Ariel said. “I swear I’ve never met a more demanding, unhappy person in my life.”

“You should charge her double for your trouble.”

“You’re right. I should. From now on, I’m going to tack on a PITA charge.”

“I wonder where she’s staying.”

“Somewhere in Easton Harbor, I’m sure.” Ariel reached for her phone. “Do you want me to find out?”

Morgan was on the fence. On the one hand, she was curious to know where the woman was staying. On the other, something told her there was a strong possibility she wouldn’t like what Ariel found. Throwing caution to the wind, she nodded. “Sure. If you don’t mind.”

“Not at all.” Ariel tapped the top of her phone. “I have a friend who works at the harbor’s rental office. She knows everything that goes on over there.”

“It pays to have connections.”

“You know it.” Ariel grew quiet, her fingers flying over the keys. “I have the address.”

“It’s in the harbor?” Morgan asked.

“Yeah.” Ariel rattled off the address, and she could feel the blood drain from her face.