Chapter 7

“Amber has the same make, model and color of SUV as me,” Morgan said. “Ten bucks says this isn’t a coincidence.”

“I dare say you are correct.” Elizabeth cleared her throat. “At the risk of sounding like sour grapes, I wouldn’t be surprised if Amber is getting game plan tips from Naomi.”

“Giving her ideas about how to aggravate the you-know-what out of me,” Morgan fumed.

“It could be she picked an identical vehicle, suspecting if Wyatt wasn’t paying close attention, he would think it was you,” Mrs. Arnsby said.

“True. Or a combination of both…to aggravate and trick,” Morgan said. “She thinks she’s being clever. I wonder how long she’s staying.”

“Who told you where she lived?” Elizabeth asked.

“Ariel. She has a friend who handles rentals here in the harbor. I should ask her if she can find out how long her lease is.” Morgan tapped out a quick text to her friend, who promptly promised to find out.

“I could knock on the door and ask her what she thinks she’s doing,” Elizabeth said.

Despite her aggravation, Morgan couldn’t help but smile at the thought of her prim and proper grandmother knocking on the door and demanding to know what Wyatt’s ex was up to. “I appreciate the offer. Despite knowing very little about Amber, I wouldn’t put it past her to call the cops and have you arrested for trespassing.”

“If she’s taking tips from Naomi’s playbook, you could be right. I will leave it on the table in case you change your mind.” Elizabeth grabbed the steering wheel. “And on that note, I suppose we should head home.”

The trip back to Easton Estate was uneventful. Elizabeth didn’t trigger a single whiplash or run anyone off the road.

Halfway there, Ariel sent a reply. The answer wasn’t what Morgan had hoped. It wasn’t the worst news, but not the best either. “Ariel sent a reply. Amber is renting month-to-month.”

“Meaning she could stay for another couple of weeks or indefinitely,” Elizabeth said. “She’s leaving her options open.”

“More than likely.” Reaching their starting point, Morgan didn’t stay long. It had been an exhausting day and the prospect of questioning Wyatt the next morning weighed heavy on her mind.

“Before you leave, you must take leftovers.” Mrs. Arnsby ran inside, returning with a container of food, along with a snack for Chester. “I have a full Jiggs Dinner and several servings of the figgy duff. I should warn you…the figgy duff gets a little hard. The best way to eat the leftovers is to fry it in butter and serve it with warm molasses.”

“And if I don’t have molasses?”

“You can always use regular Canadian maple syrup.”

“Thank you. I promise I’ll eat every bite.”

Mrs. Arnsby returned inside while Elizabeth lingered. “I can see Amber is getting under your skin.”

“Big time.” Morgan opened her car door and set her purse on the center console.

“Promise me you will give Wyatt the benefit of the doubt.”

“I will. We’re meeting for breakfast. I know he knows.”

“He’s a patrol officer who makes his rounds, not to mention she’s living only steps away from him.”

“Don’t remind me.”

Elizabeth patted her arm. “Amber doesn’t hold a candle to you.”

“I wish this were true. She’s intelligent, beautiful, probably very successful in her career.”

“You’re all of those and more.”

Chester scampered over and trampled across Morgan’s foot. “Hey, buddy. Ready to go home?”

“Get some rest.” Her grandmother gave her a gentle hug. “Remember what I said.”

“I will. I’ll give Wyatt the benefit of the doubt. Amber, on the other hand, is an entirely different story.”

*****

Exhausted from nonstop travel and thrilled to be sleeping in her own bed, even though her pup hogged most of it, she slept through the night. Early the next morning, Morgan flopped over to check the clock. It was nearly seven.

Chester, who had been patiently waiting for her to wake up, trampled over the top of her and hopped onto the floor.

“I know. You want to go out.” Morgan slipped on her bathrobe and caught up with her pup, who stood near the back door. She eased it open, greeted by the cool, crisp fall air. She slid her feet into a pair of flip-flops and made her way down the steps.

Her furry companion scurried over to the remnants of her garden. Because of the season’s bountiful harvest, Morgan had plenty of canned corn, green beans, tomatoes and even some carrots, thanks to Mrs. Arnsby’s helpful “canning session.”

Morgan blew into the frosty air, still enchanted by the changing seasons after living her entire life in Southwest Florida. She briefly thought about Quinn and wondered if she’d made a decision about the job offer.

It was a fantastic opportunity…to work for one of the most prestigious art galleries in the country. Quinn deserved the job. Still, Morgan selfishly hoped she would turn it down and return to Easton Island.

Unbeknownst to Quinn, Elizabeth had been in the process of drawing up papers to make her a partner at Easton Harbor Art Gallery. After Quinn’s abrupt departure, her grandmother had changed her mind.

If Quinn returned and resumed her position, Morgan wouldn’t be surprised if, in the future, she followed through with her initial plan. But Quinn would have to prove herself, prove she was in it for the long haul and wouldn’t leave Elizabeth high and dry.

Which brought up another issue. Elizabeth and Gerard would marry soon. The couple planned to split their time between Gerard’s place in Toronto and Easton Estate. Her grandmother would need to find someone else to run the gallery.

Maybe she would decide to shut it down again. Morgan hoped that wouldn’t be the case. Elizabeth and Quinn had worked hard to get it up and running.

The art gallery had built a solid clientele. Although Morgan wasn’t privy to the financial end of it, she was certain it was turning a profit. If not, her savvy, business-minded grandmother would have already closed the doors.

Morgan could offer to help, but she already had a full plate. The bed-and-breakfast. Taking on more Easton Holdings Company’s responsibilities. The Wynn Harbor Inn project.

Morgan thought about David Wynn and his daughter. She hadn’t been following the news to find out exactly what had happened. She did know Harlow had been involved in some sort of serious automobile accident.

The few stories she’d previously read hinted at it not being an accident, but intentional. Morgan hoped not. She couldn’t even begin to comprehend the fishbowl celebrity lifestyle the woman led, always in the public eye, being scrutinized, gossiped about.

Maybe someday, if the Wynn Harbor Inn project moved forward, she would meet David’s daughter. Or maybe not.

Chester finished his perimeter patrol of the yard and returned to Morgan’s side.

“Let’s go in where it’s warm. I need to text Wyatt to find out what he wants me to bring for breakfast,” she told her pup. “Unfortunately, as much as I’ve missed him, I’m not looking forward to our conversation about Amber.”