Chapter 3

Morgan could see Brett carefully mulling over Grandmother Elizabeth's position…adamantly opposing a partnership with David Wynn to restore Wynn Harbor Inn on Mackinac Island.

"May I ask exactly what your concerns are?" he asked.

"We've already been over the gist of my concerns. The cause of the fire that burned the properties…as in plural…more than one, was never confirmed. Mr. Wynn could have been behind it, planning to collect on the insurance and getting rid of his wife, whom I've since heard he had somewhat of a contentious relationship with."

"All unproven," Brett interrupted.

Elizabeth arched a brow, staring him down. Morgan, feeling the intensity of the look, instinctively shrank back. "May I continue?"

"I'm sorry," he apologized. "I didn't mean to interrupt. As you know, I'm very passionate about the potential for this project."

"And I'm equally passionate in opposition," she said. "There is one more thing. A more recent development."

"Which is?"

"There has been some sort of issue regarding Wynn's daughter. I believe her name is Harlow."

"What sort of issue?" Morgan asked.

"She's been involved in an accident under somewhat suspicious circumstances. The bottom line is, the family, from all outward appearances, is troubled. I don't want to throw good money after bad."

Brett shoved his hands in his pockets and rocked back on his heels. "Your answer is no." He turned to Morgan. "What are your thoughts?"

"I…" Morgan hesitated. There was no way she wanted to get caught in the middle of a power struggle. She was finally getting her own footing. Not to mention she loved her grandmother and brother equally. She could see both sides of the issue, both for and against the venture.

"As I mentioned before, having visited the property myself, I would love to see the inn restored. On the flip side, I'm new to this family business. I would be much more comfortable deferring to you two."

"You're chickening out," Brett teased.

"I'm wisely letting the senior company executives decide," she said. "It's up to you and Grandmother."

Elizabeth cleared her throat. "Then I'll pull rank and say no. Let Mr. Wynn find another partner. I'm confident he won't have any trouble."

Brett gave a slight bow of his head. "As you wish. I promised him I would give him an answer today."

Elizabeth waited until Brett left. She pivoted, turning to face her granddaughter. "Do you think I made the wrong call?"

Morgan pondered the question. "I'm not sure. You know a lot more about investing and family dynamics than I do. Do I think the project could be hugely profitable and successful? Absolutely. Would it be challenging considering the history? Without a doubt."

"Good answer. The bottom line is it's too messy. There are too many unanswered questions regarding what exactly caused the massive fire. Throw in the possibility of a high-profile heir and interested party, not to mention the death of Wynn's wife and it could be a powder keg, ready to explode at any time."

"I agree it could be messy." Morgan slipped her arm through her grandmother's arm. "I don't know about you, but I'm starving. All this talk about money and partnerships has made me hungry."

"I believe Mrs. Arnsby has prepared one of those dreadful, healthy lunches." Elizabeth lowered her voice. "Perhaps we could sneak out the back, run down to one of the harbor's restaurants and grab a greasy cheeseburger and onion rings for lunch," she whispered conspiratorially.

Morgan laughed out loud, playfully wagging her finger at her grandmother. "And sabotage your healthy eating schedule? No way."

Elizabeth let out an exaggerated sigh. "Very well then. Beans and brown rice it is."

*****

After lunch, Morgan and Chester scooted down to the art gallery to check in on Quinn and thank her for the artwork.

Stepping inside, Morgan found several shoppers milling about. She and her pup waited off to the side until they left.

"Well?" Quinn folded her hands, beaming at Morgan from behind the counter. "I see Greg gave you his gift."

"And it's one of my all-time favorites." Morgan held it up. "Chester loves it, too. He keeps staring at himself."

Chester trotted across the room and flopped down in front of the cabinet, the one where his special treats were kept.

Quinn grabbed a few and fed them to him. "That's because he's such a handsome fellow. Aren't you?"

The pup gobbled up the goodies and licked her hand to show his gratitude.

"Brett told me he was meeting with you and Elizabeth to discuss the Wynn Harbor Inn property. How did it go?"

Morgan gave her friend a thumbs down. "Grandmother is adamantly against it."

"Because no one knows for sure if Mr. Wynn was behind the fire?"

"She's concerned about future family drama and his daughter Harlow."

"I suppose it's a legitimate concern," Quinn said. "I bet Brett is bummed."

"Yep."

"You voted against it?"

"No. I let Brett and Grandmother decide. They both stated some pretty strong cases for and against it."

"And you didn't want to get caught in the middle," Quinn guessed.

"Exactly."

"But if you had added your two cents."

"I would have voted to form the partnership." Morgan hopped on an empty barstool. "It seems like such a fantastic opportunity, almost too good to pass up. You were there with me. You know the story. What do you think?"

"I would have said to go for it. Maybe Elizabeth will change her mind."

Morgan told her what Brett had said, how Wynn was reaching out to other potential investors. "Wynn will find another investor to partner with."

"Bummer."

"Maybe if Grandmother had gone there and seen it for herself." Morgan thought about her visit to the magical island, touring the property, the immaculate, meticulously manicured grounds. How she felt a kindred spirit with Wynn. "I think this is a great opportunity. I mean, no risk, no reward."

"I'm sure Elizabeth has her reasons."

"Very strong reasons," Morgan said. "Oh well. It's too late now. I'm sure Brett has already told Mr. Wynn it's a no go."

The conversation ended when customers made their way inside.

"Chester and I will get out of here so you can get back to work." Morgan, thinking a drive was in order, left Easton Harbor, heading in the opposite direction. During the ride, she thought about Greg, remembering the look on his face when he took the keys from Steve. A look of pure joy.

If Morgan had her way, Greg would happily live and work at Locke Pointe for many years, maybe even as long as his Uncle Ben had worked at Easton Estate.

Back home, Morgan rearranged the pictures and paintings above the fireplace to make room for Chester's portrait. She finished hanging the work of art and stood back to admire it.

Chester trotted across the room. He sat next to her, staring up at the new wall arrangement.

"You're a good-looking fellow." Morgan put her hammer and pack of nails away and glanced out the window. It was a beautiful day. Much too nice to be cooped up inside. "Let's go for a walk."

Morgan ran to her room to grab her jacket. By the time she returned, her pup was already waiting by the door, his leash firmly clenched in his jaw. "I swear, you understand every word I say. I wouldn't be surprised if one day you answered back."

It was a fast trek across the road to Looking Glass Cottage's private beach. While they meandered along the shoreline, Morgan thought about Brett and Quinn's blossoming romance. Would it fizzle? Only time would tell.

Like the Wynn property, Morgan knew life was full of risks and rewards. She hoped it would work out. Who knew what the future held? Maybe someday her best friend would become her sister-in-law.

She and her pup walked to Easton Estate's beach area before turning around and making their way back. As soon as they reached the house, she texted her boyfriend, Wyatt, to remind him she was making dinner.

Quinn had already told Morgan she and Brett planned to take the ferry to the mainland to meet some of his friends after work.

With cooler weather on the horizon, Morgan was determined to get as much use out of her grill as she could before putting it away for the winter. Her first task was to season the steaks. She set them off to the side and began prepping the asparagus. Up next was getting the twice-baked potatoes ready for the oven.

While the food cooked, she turned the radio station to a talk show, a show she'd recently stumbled upon. It featured local historians who shared anecdotes about life on Easton Island.

This afternoon's show featured Calvin Boothe, the author of Easton Island—The Truth Behind the Easton Family. According to the tidbits she'd read and had heard from others, the book was basically a hit job, aimed at tarnishing the Easton family's reputation and casting them in the worst possible light.

Thankfully, he didn't mention the family. Instead, he shared a story about a shipwreck that happened during a strong nor'easter years ago.

Roarr…roar. Morgan caught the sound of Wyatt's motorcycle turning into the driveway.

Chester must've heard it too. He dashed across the kitchen floor and leapt onto the window chair overlooking the driveway.

Woof. He pressed his nose against the glass, his tail wagging ninety miles an hour. The roar of the engine stopped, and it grew quiet.

Chester sprang from the chair and ran to the door, greeting Wyatt as soon as he stepped into the breezeway.

"There's my Chester." Wyatt set his helmet on the table and fluffed the pup's ears.

"You're right on time." Morgan untied her apron and draped it over the back of the barstool, meeting her beau near the door.

"And you are a sight for sore eyes. It's been a long day." Wyatt pulled her into his arms and kissed her soundly.

Morgan pressed against him, feeling his warmth. Her pulse ticked up a notch when she caught a whiff of his cologne, her favorite.

Chester wiggled in between them, forcing them apart.

Wyatt reluctantly took a step back. "Dude, you know how to kill a mood."

"He wants all the attention." Morgan giggled. "And now he thinks he's Mr. Big Shot."

"What did he do? Rescue another rabbit?"

Morgan motioned her boyfriend into the living room. "This is Greg's thank you gift for renovating the carriage house and adding an apartment."

Wyatt crossed his arms and studied the painting. "He looks like…"

"He's itching to do something he shouldn't," Morgan said.

"Or maybe he's ready for a sidecar ride."

The word "sidecar" was all it took. Chester knew exactly what the word meant. He dashed over to the storage basket where Morgan kept his goggles and began tugging on the strap.

"Not yet." She pried them from his mouth and set them on the chair. "Maybe we can sweet talk Wyatt into giving us a ride after dinner."

"I would love to."

Chester buried his nose in the basket and began dragging toys onto the floor. His favorite ball was one of them. It promptly rolled under the hutch.

"There goes your favorite ball," Morgan said.

"I'll grab it." Wyatt dropped to his knees. Feeling around, he scooped up the pup's ball and rolled it back out. "There's something else under here."

"More of Chester's toys?"

"No." Wyatt held up his hand. In it was a set of keys. "Did you lose some keys?"

Morgan's brows furrowed. "As a matter of fact, I misplaced an old set of keys I found in Locke Pointe's attic a long time ago."

She grabbed the keys and flipped them over. "I tore the house apart trying to find these. Chester must've found them and hid them under the hutch."

Wyatt sprang to his feet and swiped at his jeans. "If I were you, I would put them somewhere out of his reach."

"I will." Morgan opened the drawer and started to put them inside. "Wait a minute. I think these might help me solve a mini mystery over at Locke Pointe."