Chapter 7

Morgan climbed Locke Pointe's porch steps and held out her hand. "Hello again, Mr. Wynn."

"Good morning, Morgan Easton." Wynn offered an apologetic smile. "I hope I didn't catch you at a bad time."

"Not at all."

"I'm sure this comes as a surprise to see me standing on your porch."

"I'd be lying if I said it wasn't."

Wynn's gray eyes, no longer dull but with a sharper edge, peered down at her through his bushy eyebrows. "I spoke with your brother Brett yesterday. He informed me Easton Holdings Company is no longer interested in partnering to help renovate Wynn Harbor Inn and the adjoining cottages."

"Unfortunately, no." Morgan motioned to Ronni, who stood nearby. "I see you've already met Ronni Lansbury, a close friend. Ronni also helps manage my bed-and-breakfast."

"We've had a few moments to chat," Ronni said. "As I already mentioned, Morgan told me about you in passing."

"How she was introduced to a curmudgeonly old man?" he joked.

"No. About Wynn Harbor Inn and what a fabulous piece of property you have."

"It is, or at least it was," Wynn said.

"Where are my manners?" Morgan asked. "Can I offer you coffee or a glass of tea?"

"I don't want to impose."

"You traveled quite a distance to see me. The least I can do is offer you something to drink."

"I'll have Tina bring out some refreshments." Ronni slipped inside, leaving Morgan and David Wynn alone on the porch.

"Please. Have a seat."

Wynn settled into the rocking chair, a small sigh escaping his lips.

Morgan took the chair next to him, gazing out at the meticulously manicured front lawn. "Well? I know I hyped Locke Pointe up. What do you think?"

"It's impressive. It reminds me of the homes on Mackinac Island."

"Yes, it does," Morgan agreed.

"But it's missing something."

"The view, which is around back," she said. "After we sit for a spell, if you're up to it, I'll give you a tour."

"I would very much like that," Wynn said.

The two of them made small talk—about the weather, the upcoming fall season, island life.

The front door opened. Tina appeared, carrying a tray with tea and cookies.

Wynn sprang from his chair. He took the tray from her and set it on the nearby table.

"This is my right-hand gal and most amazing baker, Tina," Morgan said.

"It's nice to meet you," Tina replied. "Please, let me know if you need anything else."

Morgan promised her she would and waited until they were alone again. "At the risk of not minding my own business, I heard a rumor your daughter, Harlow, was involved in some sort of accident."

"She was." Wynn cleared his throat, pinning her with a stare. "I like to be straightforward, young lady."

"And I admire straightforwardness," Morgan said. "As opposed to beating around the bush."

"I despise gossip and rumors. I would rather not discuss my daughter."

"Duly noted." Morgan sipped her tea, curiously eyeing him over the rim. "I'm going to go out on a limb and guess you didn't happen to be in the neighborhood and decided to drop by."

"No. I wasn't. I made a special trip here because I wanted to chat with you again. And…I was curious to see Locke Pointe firsthand." Wynn confessed after Morgan had visited, he'd done some research. "You and your family have an intriguing history."

"Maybe not me, but definitely the Easton family."

"And the Locke family. This property. The medallion. An estate that mysteriously burned. I believe it was called Locke Meadow."

Their eyes met. Clearly, Wynn had done his homework. Perhaps he felt a kindred spirit with Morgan and the Locke family. Wynn Harbor Inn had been destroyed by fire, as had Locke Meadow.

"From what I've been told, Locke Meadow was somewhat of a magnet for lightning. The last time it was struck, it caught fire and burned to the ground. My grandparents decided not to rebuild. Instead, they built this place."

Wynn nodded. "So I understand. I believe some places are magnets for bad luck."

Morgan set her glass on the table. "I find your comment interesting. Do you believe your property is cursed?"

The man seated next to her contemplated the question. "Sometimes. I hope not. If so, maybe I can reverse the pattern."

"I believe you can." Morgan hesitated.

"What?" Wynn prompted.

"I don't want to come across as being too personal."

"Go ahead. Unless, of course, you want to discuss my daughter, Harlow."

"No. It's about you."

He arched a bushy brow. "What is it?"

"The last time we met, you seemed…not necessarily defeated, but maybe overwhelmed."

"I didn't have much to look forward to. When Eryn told me your brother was interested in possibly partnering, it gave me a lot to think about. I decided maybe it was time to pull myself up by my bootstraps and do what needed to be done."

Morgan nodded. She understood exactly what Wynn meant. Life had certainly thrown more than its share of obstacles in her path. Yet, here she was, living her best life with nothing but blue skies on the horizon. "What I'm getting at is you have a fire in your eyes. With the right attitude, and partner, I believe without a doubt one day I'll hear how Wynn Harbor Inn is once again Mackinac Island's premier property."

"I sense a challenge being thrown down. Perhaps I should prove you right." Wynn finished the rest of his drink and polished off another of Tina's melt-in-your-mouth white macadamia nut cookies. "Do you still have time to give me a tour?"

"Absolutely." Morgan finished her tea, set her empty glass on the tray and reached for it.

Wynn stopped her. "Please. Let me help."

"Thank you." Morgan felt an unexpected tightening in her throat. Wynn was what she'd always envisioned a father to be, a father she never knew. Kind. Thoughtful. Strong. A fighter.

She led him into the house, cutting through the dining room on their way to the kitchen.

Tina stood at the sink, rinsing out a salad bowl. "How were the cookies?"

Wynn set the tray on the counter and patted his stomach. "Worth every single calorie. Those were the best cookies I've had in a very long time."

"Thank you," she beamed. "I'm glad you enjoyed them."

"I'm going to show Mr. Wynn around." Morgan started the tour in the kitchen before backtracking through the dining room. They crossed through the hall and reception area before stepping into the living room.

While Morgan talked, Wynn made his way over to the fireplace and began studying her mother's painting of Locke Pointe. "This is an exceptional rendering of this property."

"My mother painted it."

Wynn pivoted, tucking his hands behind his back. "Your mother?"

"Was an artist. She sold her art on Captiva and Sanibel Islands."

"In Florida."

"Yes," Morgan confirmed. "This painting helped me find the Shifting Sands Medallion."

"How?"

She showed him the spot on the back and shared the story about finding a series of cryptic handwritten numbers.

"And the half-moon windows," Wynn said. "You mentioned them briefly during your visit how you found the medallion beneath some floorboards."

"You have an excellent memory."

"It's an intriguing story. I'm hoping to see the spot, if it's all right."

"I'm giving you the full tour. Although I can't show you the occupied guest suites. You're in luck. The door leading to the attic is accessed via the main suite, which won't be occupied until later today." Morgan wrapped up the main level tour and they headed upstairs.

She showed him an empty suite before leading him to ME's sanctuary, pronounced Emmie, a nickname for Morgan and Elizabeth. They lingered briefly in the bedroom before continuing to the bathroom.

Wynn stepped inside and let out a low whistle. "You did this place up right."

"Thanks to some valuable advice I got from Grace Coates, who owns Lilac Inn next door. She was instrumental in helping me get this place up and running."

"A competitor and a friend?" Wynn asked.

"I don't consider Grace my competition, but more of us being on the same team, helping one another. If Locke Pointe is booked, I recommend her place, and vice versa."

Morgan, who had grabbed the crystal star "key" on her way through the library, stepped into the shower. She slid the star into the cutout and gave it a light twist. The door slowly opened.

"A secret door!"

"Leading to the third floor." With Morgan taking the lead, they climbed to the top. She turned right, showing him the first empty room. They crossed the catwalk and entered the second room, also containing a half-moon window.

"This is the spot." Morgan tapped the floorboard with the tip of her shoe.

"Fascinating," he murmured. "The window was instrumental in finding the medallion."

"Because on a specific day in December, the full moon shines down through the window, creating a pattern. As I mentioned, the box containing the medallion was hidden beneath the floorboards."

"I bet you get a lot of curiosity-seekers stopping by wanting to see it," Wynn guessed.

"More than you know," she joked. "I could open this place as a tourist attraction."

"But you won't."

"Nope." Morgan ran a light hand over the windowsill. "I can't envision allowing strangers to traipse through here day in and day out."

"Not to mention you wouldn't be able to book the suite if people were coming through to access this attic."

The two of them backtracked, down the stairs, through the bedroom, down the second set of stairs. Morgan paused when they reached the front porch. "If you're ready, I'll show you the grounds."

"I'm good to go." Wynn gave her a thumbs up.

"They're not nearly as gorgeously landscaped as yours," Morgan warned.

"But they are kept up."

"By Greg Baker, my handyman / gardener."

"He's doing a good job."

"Thank you. I think so." Morgan pointed out the carriage house before leading Wynn to the cliff overlooking the beach and Lake Huron. "This is the view."

A light breeze blew tufts of David Wynn's hair across his face. He closed his eyes and breathed deeply. "This reminds me of home."

"I thought the same when I visited your place," Morgan said. "I know this may sound weird, but it almost whispered ‘home' to me, like this place does."

Wynn's eyes flew open. "It's not weird. It's what the islands do when they cast their spell. I'm sure you realize by now that when they start to whisper, you'll never be able to escape."

Morgan laughed. "Good. Because I have no plans of ever moving away from Easton Island."

"I can tell that you won't." Wynn shoved his hands in his pockets and spun in a slow circle, taking it all in…the lake, the beach, the lovingly cared for estate and carriage house.

Morgan was proud of it and Wynn, a kindred spirit in many ways, appreciated all she'd accomplished. "I have no doubt your grandparents would be very proud of what you've done, how you've preserved this beautiful slice of paradise."

She could feel herself choke up again at the sincerity of his compliment. "Thank you," she said in a quiet voice. "I like to think they would be."

"I'm glad I visited, made the trip today." Wynn scratched at the stubble on his chin and gazed at her thoughtfully. "I have an important proposal for you, Morgan Easton. A proposal I hope you will seriously consider."