Chapter 1

Morgan tapped her foot, studying the razor wire fence her neighbor, Naomi Renaud, had recently installed.

Her rescue pup Chester began cautiously sniffing around near the edge of the property. She promptly called him when he crept dangerously close to the sharp barbs. "Hey buddy! You need to stay away from Naomi's fence."

He obediently trotted back toward Morgan and plopped down at her feet. Both watched as the workers from Island Fence and Farm finished cementing the final post.

"How's it going?" Morgan turned to find Greg, her handyman, standing behind her.

"The fence installation is moving right along which means we won't have to look at Naomi's ugly and dangerous disaster much longer."

Greg scratched his head. "I don't understand why the neighbor's fence is still up. I know for a fact the code enforcement department is fining her every single day."

"Because she wants to be a thorn in my side…literally," Morgan sighed. Within hours of finding out her grandmother's nemesis, who owned the property adjacent to Locke Pointe, had erected the code-violating mess, she'd hired a local fencing company to install a pristine white vinyl fence.

Despite it costing a pretty penny, the extra privacy and protection would be worth every cent.

Within minutes, the workers had already put up two of the fence panels.

Greg eased past Morgan and studied a panel. "Something looks different."

"I splurged and added some special pieces." Morgan crept closer. "I think it's safe to check it out as long as we stay out of the way."

Chester scrambled to his feet and trotted alongside them, coming to an abrupt halt when they reached a small square of clear plastic. He pressed his nose against the pane, peering through to the other side.

"I added a few Chester-friendly Plexiglass cutouts he can see through. He'll be able to keep an eye on what happens next door, won't you?" Morgan patted his head. "I haven't been by the carriage house yet. Are they finally finished?"

Today was a big day…the big day for Greg, who was champing at the bit to move into the brand-spanking-new apartment Morgan had added to the back half of Locke Pointe's carriage house.

Greg beamed, enthusiastically nodding his head. "Yes, ma'am. Steve has the keys and is ready to hand them over."

"Let me track down Ronni." Morgan removed her cell phone from her pocket and tapped out a quick text to her friend, who was also the bed-and-breakfast's manager, asking her to meet them on the front porch.

On my way, she promptly texted back.

As soon as Morgan and Greg rounded the corner, Ronni appeared. She gave a friendly wave and hurried over. "The fence and custom Chester panels look great."

"Thanks. I can't believe I'm this excited about a vinyl fence. No more staring at Renaud's ugly razor wire." Morgan rubbed her palms together. "Steve and his crew are wrapping things up and getting ready to give us the keys."

Ronni patted Greg's back. "I don't have to ask how excited you are."

"On a scale from 1 to 10, I would say I'm at about a 25," he joked.

The trio circled around, trekking to the carriage house. After weeks of hustle and bustle, the backyard was eerily quiet. No more saws. No more drills. No more hammers pounding.

Morgan led the way, slipping in through the side entrance. "Hello?" she called out.

A worker appeared, toolbox in hand. "Good morning, Ms. Easton."

"Hello, Jay. Greg told us you were wrapping things up. We're going to miss having you around."

"And I'm gonna miss this place, especially Tina's delicious double chocolate chunk cookies."

Tina Garbow, the cook, was fast becoming a culinary icon on Easton Island, whipping up some of the most delightful dishes for Locke Pointe's evening receptions.

She'd even talked Morgan and Ronni into adding a coffee station and included tempting treats to accompany the coffee. The addition had been an instant hit, not only for the guests, but for the construction workers who stopped by during their breaks.

Steve, the job supervisor, appeared. "I thought I heard voices. The big day has finally arrived." He reached into his pocket and pulled out a silver set of keys. "The last lightbulb has been installed, which means our job is done."

Morgan nudged Greg. "You do the honors."

His face turned bright red. "I…this is your property, Morgan."

"But you signed on the dotted line, paid your deposit and first month's rent," she pointed out. "These belong to your home."

Still, he hesitated.

"You've waited a long time for this moment," Ronni chimed in. "I agree with Morgan. Grab those keys!"

Greg tentatively reached for the keys. "Thank you."

"Picture. We need a picture." Morgan handed her cell phone to Steve. She and Ronni stepped in next to Greg, all three grinning from ear to ear, but no one more than the man who had, for weeks now, patiently watched the carriage house's transformation, becoming a home just for him.

With pictures taken, Steve gave them a final tour of the cozy, charming apartment. Morgan had also kept close tabs on the project, ensuring the property retained some of its charm. They were small touches—plaster cornices and wide wooden sashes—paying homage to Morgan's grandparents, who had built the grand estate many years ago.

After finishing the tour, she handed Steve the check for the final construction draw, thanking him, once again, for squeezing the project into his busy schedule.

He and his crew left, and she caught up with Ronni and Greg, who were admiring the view from the screened-in porch Morgan had added at the last minute.

"This is a million-dollar view." She shaded her eyes, glimpsing a small sailboat skimming across Lake Huron's open water. "I'm glad Steve talked me into adding the porch."

"It's perfect," Ronni said. "In fact, I have to admit I'm a little jealous, Greg. You have a better view than I do."

"I bet the stargazing is pretty awesome out here. I was thinking…" His voice trailed off.

"Thinking what?" Morgan prompted.

"Jax and Ben offered to help me move the big stuff up from the basement first thing tomorrow morning, but I was wondering if it would be all right if I brought my mattress over tonight and slept on the floor."

Morgan could feel tears burn the back of her eyes. Greg, who had spent his entire life living in a cramped apartment with his mother, would finally have a place to call his own.

She swallowed hard and caught his eye. "You can move in whenever you want," she said softly.

He stared at the keys clenched tightly in his fist, and Morgan could only imagine what was running through his head. Actually, she had an inkling.

It was probably a lot like the moment she felt when she first stepped inside Looking Glass Cottage, her mother's beloved cottage, a home Morgan knew nothing about until after her sudden death over a year and a half ago.

It had hit her like a ton of bricks. Although she knew little about Easton Island and even less about her family; she did know one thing. She was home. The feeling had never left. In fact, there were days she was still overcome with emotion. She had a family. Her grandmother, Elizabeth. Her brother, Brett.

And now Greg Baker, who had desperately needed a fresh start when Morgan hired him, stood before her with the same look on his face.

"It's your home now. I know I speak for both Ronni and me when I say we hope you enjoy it, enjoy working at Locke Pointe for many years to come."

"I'll take good care of it," he promised.

"We know you will."

"Can you wait here for a minute?" he asked. "I have something for you."

"Yes. Of course."

Ronni waited until Greg hurried out of the apartment. "I almost started bawling."

"Me too," Morgan said. "Did you see the look on his face? Greg finally has a home he can call his own."

"It's the same way you looked at Looking Glass Cottage the day you showed up on my doorstep," Ronni said. "It was magical."

Greg returned moments later, carrying two small packages. He handed one to Ronni and the other to Morgan. "I asked Quinn to make something special for both of you. It's my way of saying thanks."

Morgan tugged on the delicate gold ribbon and removed the pale pink wrapping paper. Inside was a painting. She burst out laughing. "Oh my gosh! I love it."

She turned it around so Ronni could see the painting of Chester, sporting his riding goggles and blue leather cap. Morgan's best friend and artist, Quinn Schultz, had captured her pup's mischievous expression perfectly.

"This is the best gift ever. Now I know why Quinn was taking pictures of Chester a few weeks ago." Morgan impulsively hugged him. "Thank you. I know exactly where I'll hang it."

Greg hung his head, a shy smile on his face. "I'm glad you like it."

Morgan showed it to Chester, who appeared utterly unimpressed. She motioned to Ronni. "What is yours?"

Ronni untied the delicate gold ribbon and removed the pale pink paper. Her artwork was the same size and shape. Instead of a painting of Chester, Ronni's was a portrait of her, seated inside her shiny red BMW convertible, the top down and her hair whipping in the wind.

Morgan squinted her eyes, studying the background. "I think I see…"

"Bird Island," Greg said. "I asked Quinn to add it."

Ronni ran a light finger across the frame. "Thank you, Greg. I'll treasure it forever. In fact, I have the perfect spot for it in my living room."

"Do you need us to help you move your mattress?" Morgan asked. "We can drive over to your mom's place and load it into the company van right now."

"It's already in the van," Greg said. "If you don't mind giving me a hand."

"Not at all."

Working together, it didn't take long to carry the mattress to the apartment. Greg had also packed up a few boxes. After a couple of trips back and forth, the van was empty.

"Will you need help tomorrow?" Morgan asked.

"I'm not sure. Jax and Uncle Ben will be here at nine to help move the furniture you gave me that's in storage downstairs."

"I'll be on hand to supervise," Ronni said. "The last time Jax came by to help me move the piano around, he dinged the wall."

Morgan tugged at her shirtsleeve and flexed her muscles. "I might not be able to do any heavy lifting, but I can carry boxes. We'll have you moved in no time."

Greg glanced at his watch. "I have to run down to the dock to pick up some new guests. Thanks again."

After he left, Morgan and Ronni returned inside and went over the upcoming bookings. The fall color touring season was right around the corner, which meant the bed-and-breakfast would be busy.

The women had put together some special events for guests and couldn't wait to decorate.

Early November showed a drop-off, but by the end of the month, reservations picked back up and the B&B was almost fully booked until the new year.

Ting. Morgan's cell phone chimed. It was a text from Brett. Where are you?

She promptly replied. At Locke Pointe. What's up?

I know you're busy but was wondering if you had time to swing by Easton Estates for a family business meeting. Something has come up and it can't wait.