Taking a Chance on Charlevoix

Chapter 1

Chapter One

MARLOWE

S aying goodbye to her sister in the Traverse City airport was hard for Marlowe Quinn. Christmas with her two sisters, Samantha and Izzy, along with their Aunt Cate had been wonderful. What fun they’d had reminiscing! In the past, planning a holiday together had never worked out. This year Aunt Cate had done some finagling. The accidental overdue reunion had brought back tons of good memories, the kind that keep families together. Their giddy New Year’s resolution to relocate to Charlevoix, Michigan, pointed to more excitement to come. Changes loomed on the horizon for everybody. But was Marlowe ready?

Turning away from Sam and heading for her gate. Marlowe was blinded by tears. How ridiculous. Their plans felt right. Difficult, but right. She’d upend her successful real estate career in Naples, Florida, and start over in northern Michigan. Sam and Aunt Cate would do the same. Izzy was already firmly entrenched in Charlevoix with her successful café, Coffee and Cupcakes.

Starting over. The words felt like cold coffee in her stomach.

As she sat staring out the window at the snow along the runway, Marlowe wondered if she could carry through on her promise. What is stopping you ? Wasn’t she the one who always forged ahead? Years ago she’d left her midwestern family to build a life in Florida. Her hard work had brought success. Was she ready to cast all that aside? Could she pull it off and build a new life at this age?

Taking the safety instructions from the seat pocket in front of her, she stared at the pictures. Maybe that’s what she needed right now. An oxygen mask. Her chest was heaving. Was she hyperventilating? Marlowe jammed the plasticized folder back where it belonged. This feeling in her chest sure felt like panic.

What was she afraid of? This year she’d turn forty. Marlowe was a far cry from the enthusiastic young woman who’d graduated from Florida State and decided to make the sunshine state her home. Looking out at the frozen mounds of snow, she wondered what she’d been thinking, cooking up those crazy plans with her family. It was twenty-two degrees in Michigan right now. Over the two-week vacation her tan had faded. Marlowe held out one hand. Were those blue veins new? Had they popped up overnight? Cripes, old age was bearing down. Where had she ever gotten the idea that she could start over at this stage of her life?

Travelers were piling into the plane. Overhead bins snapped open and closed. As they plowed past First Class, people unzipped jackets and tugged off scarves. They were all getting ready to land in warmer weather in Atlanta, where she’d grab her connection to Naples. That’s why she was dressed in her white jeans and light-weight turquoise sweater. The jeans had brought smiles in northern Michigan, where everyone dressed in warm layers and subdued colors, like forest green, classic navy and bark brown. When it came to her clothes, she hadn’t come prepared for all the snow.

Over the holidays she’d discovered her father’s old snow boots in the attic. They’d felt clunky but they’d been her dad’s. Her parents had been gone a long time but the oversized black boots brought everything back. How Dad sang off tune while he shoveled the steps. How he’d always left the wet boots in the mud room, where the snow dissolved into puddles. That mess used to make their mom so mad. “Eric Quinn, what are you teaching your girls?” Hands on hips, Mom would stand in the doorway, staring down at the wet boots and melting snow.

“Oh, Jo.” Dad would put his arms around Mom and nuzzle her neck until she giggled and swatted his hands away. Marlowe and her sisters would watch her frown melt like the snow. “I’ll clean up,” Dad would say. “You’re right. You always are.”

Dressed in her dad’s boots, Marlowe had shoveled snow off the long driveway with her sisters. Those light-hearted moments had been precious during her visit to Sunnycrest. They brought her parents back again. Maybe that’s why Marlowe had quickly supported this crazy plan of relocating. Sunnycrest was where the memories of her parents were always so happy. It had been a long time since she’d visited the family summer home. Now Marlowe’s toes curled in her Gucci ankle boots.

Her sisters and aunt wouldn’t believe the indecision tearing at her stomach. They saw her as the bold middle child who always found her way. After college she’d never returned to their Naperville home outside Chicago. But she’d been a lot younger when she started her career in Naples. Was Marlowe going to chuck all that grinding work to return to her roots in Charlevoix? The harsh reality of starting a career over in a small town pressed her into the cushy seat. Did she have enough of what it takes to begin again?

Maybe. Her family would be there. That is, if Samantha and Aunt Cate followed through. Just thinking about them brought a timid warmth seeping through her, right down to her frozen toes.

“Champagne? A soft drink?” A flight attendant appeared with a bright smile. How did she keep those shoulder length curls in place under that cap?

“Champagne would be perfect.” She’d celebrate her future, not shrink from it. Pushing down on the arm rests, she sat up.

Young and slim, the attendant pivoted and trotted back to the small kitchen. Her curls bounced past her shoulders with authority. Marlowe loved the untested spirit of the younger woman. Everything lay before her, while forty was looming for Marlowe. Wasn’t that the point in life when a woman should be comfortably settled with a husband and family? She wasn’t. Shifting restlessly, she ran her thumb over her empty ring finger.

On New Year’s Eve, the four of them had toasted their new plans in front of the fireplace at Sunnycrest. Marlowe needed to tap into that vacation energy. Tightening her grip on the armrests, she reached for new resolve. But she found only an unsettling vacuum. What the heck was she going to do?

Other travelers kept boarding, moving into economy class with bulging shopping bags. The First Class seats were almost filled. A well dressed older woman with a monogrammed carryon stopped at Marlowe’s row. Heaving her suitcase into the luggage carrier above, she didn't wait for help. The elegantly scripted monogram reminded Marlowe of her Aunt Cate.

The woman looked interesting. Marlowe loved her over-sized, red-rimmed glasses and an equally outrageous primary-colored necklace over her white turtleneck. Her silver gray hair was cut into a sassy short hairdo. This seatmate might be better company than a paunchy male business executive who might hit on her after a couple of drinks. That had happened more than once. Shrugging off her tailored three-quarter length black cashmere coat, the woman folded it neatly and stowed it above with her suitcase. By that time the flight attendant had returned with Marlowe’s champagne.

“I'll have one of those too, please,” the woman said crisply, taking the aisle seat and turning to Marlowe with a broad smile. “Good morning.”

“Glad to leave the ice behind?” Marlowe never waited for someone else to start the conversation.

“Absolutely. San Diego can be very pleasant this time of year.” The diamond flashing on her left hand was huge and, like her smile, seemed genuine. “Gabby Driscoll,” she said, as if that name had purchasing power.

“Marlowe Quinn.” Her shoulders relaxed.

The flight attendant quickly returned with another champagne flute, and Gabby lifted hers in Marlowe's direction. “Here's to the new year, Marlowe. May whatever you wish for come true.”

“To the new year.” If only this woman knew of the impossible dreams Marlowe had been spinning with her sisters and aunt, she might laugh.

“So what brought you to the frozen north for the holidays?” Gabby didn’t waste any time with small talk.

Marlowe's surprised laugh shot champagne up her nose. “How did you guess that I don't live up here?” She blotted her nose while the flow of passengers slowed. Marlowe remembered the days of economy and then business class. She’d worked hard for this spacious seat.

“I’ve lived all my life in Petoskey.” Gabby named a town just up the road from Charlevoix. “I know everyone, and you definitely are not local. First of all, there’s your tan.”

Marlowe chuckled. “Which is fading fast.”

Gabby gave her another sweeping look. “The white jeans, turquoise sweater and tan ankle boots? Not in Michigan. Up in Charlotte or Petoskey, everyone is still dressed for winter,” Gabby said with such warmth that Marlowe smiled. “Let me guess. You were in Charlevoix for the holidays.”

“Yes, my sister lives there.” Maybe Gabby knew of Izzy's shop. “She owns the Coffee and Cupcakes shop in downtown Charlevoix. Have you heard of it?”

Her new seatmate nodded. “Think I've seen it. Great pastries in the windows. Makes me think about taking a pass on my diet.” She chuckled as if that idea was ridiculous.

Gabby looked comfortably padded. No scarecrow look for her and Marlowe found it refreshing. “Yes, we're all proud of Isabel and her pastry shop. My sister, aunt and I came to Charlevoix for the holidays. Family summer home.” No need to go into the amazing surprise Izzy had provided that Christmas. But sometimes it was easier to divulge secrets about yourself to a stranger, someone you would never see again.

“Quinn, Quinn.” Gabby's forehead might have wrinkled as she tried to recall the name. But Marlowe suspected that Botox shots were making wrinkles difficult.

“She uses her married name now. Izzy Malone. And that would be the name from her first husband.” Was she making things too complicated?

“I see.” Gabby's eyebrows lifted. That smooth forehead? Maybe Marlowe should try some Botox. Every day she needed more concealer for the circles under her eyes. The lines bracketing her cheeks fanned out when she smiled. Marlowe would never admit her aging concerns to anyone. No, her sisters and friends thought she was totally comfortable with her life and her age. Most of the time that was true. But today her confidence felt shredded.

All the passengers had been seated. The flight attendants were going down the aisle, doing a final check. The cabin door had been sealed and the engines hummed as the plane backed away from the gate. Time to turn the tables. “And how about you? What’s your line of work?” Obviously Gabby did not stay home and bake chocolate chip cookies.

“Decorator and realtor,” Gabby said crisply. “And not in that particular order.”

How delightful . “You mean, you're responsible for all the summer homes with their blue and aqua trim and the spacious islands with white Carrera marble tops?” During her holiday visit, Marlowe had gathered several booklets listing local homes for sale. The pictures had led her to websites with a lot of interior photos. She was casing the market.

Gabby chuckled. Marlowe suspected she'd hit a nerve. “Pale cream with white trim is a popular combination, and so is marine blue with aqua. I might do a little bit of that or my people do.”

Okay, that was a clue, neatly dropped in Marlowe's lap. Gabby was in management. Here she hesitated. Asking too many questions could be considered rude. But this woman didn’t seem to have a shy bone in her body. Marlowe straightened in her seat. This was the point when men often challenged each other. My career is better than yours . But Marlowe wasn't into that.

“And how about you?” Gabby asked. “What do you do? Sales, I would guess.”

“Real estate. Naples, Florida.” She tried not to inject too much pride in her words.

Gabby ran a pointed tongue over her lips. “Interesting market. Probably puts Charlevoix to shame.” The flight attendant came through the cabin to collect their glasses. When Gabby asked for water, Marlowe did the same. Planes could be so dehydrating. That was the last thing her skin needed after two weeks of heat blasting from the ancient air ducts at Sunnycrest. Her wrinkles would probably deepen. Self conscious, she ran a hand over one cheek.

“Lately the real estate market has been at the mercy of the elements,” Marlowe said, thinking of the last hurricane season and the toll it had taken on Florida. Some waterfront properties had to be rebuilt from the studs.

The flight attendant returned with their water. Marlowe took a couple gulps, hoping to stave off dehydration. Gabby sipped, her face a thoughtful study. “Right. Those storms in the southeast. That must be miserable. Thank goodness we don’t have that in Petoskey or Charlevoix. Could I ask how your family wound up in Michigan?”

“Summer home. Chicago family.”

“Ah yes.” Gabby eyes brightened. “Lots of Chicago people escaping to Lake Michigan. You say your sister lives there now, shop and everything?”

“My baby sister. Right out of high school, she fell in love with a local boy.” The champagne had loosened Marlowe’s tongue.

“So young? Isn't that just the kiss of death?” Tossing back her head, Gabby laughed.

Marlowe had definitely thought so at the time. “Unfortunately the marriage didn't last but Isabel loves the area. Our family has the house so she lives there.” Marlowe gave the name of the street. She felt herself withdrawing a little bit since she might be running into this woman in town. Probably not wise to reveal too many family secrets, not that they had many.

“There’s a lot of that in Charlevoix,” Gabby said. “Families own homes for a long time, and eventually one of them takes on the house. The lake has gotten into their blood. Some even live in it and take the train into work.”

“It's hard to give up a place where you've had so many happy times.” Nostalgia snagged Marlowe again. Wasn’t that what had pulled them back to Sunnycrest this past season? A forgotten sense of family and all the good times they'd shared. Her older sister and aunt were determined that they would all end up in Charlevoix.

But was Marlowe ready? The question had come upon her like a winter cold as her sister drove away that morning. Sam had continued on to Chicago. And now Marlowe was having second thoughts. Did she really want to sell her elegant condo overlooking the ocean? Could she handle the cold days in Michigan and the snow that never stopped? Indecision gnawed at her stomach unchecked. Maybe she needed some food.

“You’re lucky if your family comes to some agreement about the family home,” Gabby said in a thoughtful tone. “Some nasty legal battles have been waged over family holdings.”

“Really? I've never heard about that.” How awful to get into a legal struggle over a house that had meant so much to everyone.

“Isabel, such a lovely, traditional name.” A smile tugged at Gabby’s lined lips. “Your mother must be a romantic.”

“I guess she was,” Marlowe murmured, although as a child she’d never thought of her mother like that. “We lost our parents when we were younger. An auto accident.”

“So very sorry.” The note of sincerity made Marlowe turn toward her new friend. She was used to hearing the clipped “I’m sorry for your loss,” not the sincere regret found on this woman’s face.

“I suppose a lot of families come back to the area at holiday time, right?” Marlowe got the conversation back on track.

“Somewhat, but not as many as the batch of summer people.”

“I suppose not.” Their visit had been so much more than a holiday escape. Christmas had brought the three sisters back into a tight family orbit. It had been too easy in the past few years for Sam to stay in Chicago, Marlowe in Naples and Aunt Cate in New York while Isabel did her own thing in Charlevoix. But now they’d come together again. The excitement she’d felt over the past few days flickered again in Marlowe’s chest.

She could do this. She had to do this. They’d all made promises to each other. Those final family conversations had left Marlowe with a daunting to-do list. Where to start? Maybe Jenna would help her. The new young woman at the agency came to mind. But right now Jenna was not answering Marlowe’s emails.

The plane hummed around them. Travelers were reading or had fallen asleep. Marlowe felt wired. “I don’t suppose you know of any architects?”

Now she had Gabby’s full attention. “As a matter of fact, I do. I could send you a list if you like. Planning on building?”

“Renovating.” Marlowe felt her enthusiasm rev up. “Thank you. Some names would be great.”

“Kitchen and bathrooms, I imagine,” Gabby said.

“Always top of anyone’s list, right?”

“Are you thinking of updating and then selling?”

“Oh no, we’re definitely not selling,” Marlowe blurted out. The idea horrified her.

Her candor brought a pleased nod. “You really do love that family home,” Gabby said slowly, as if she thoroughly approved.

“Yes, yes we do. The renovation’s a group project.”

“That’s wonderful. Be prepared to weather different opinions.”

“I suppose so.” Would they get into arguments over the changes? Maybe. Sam could be set in her ways. But then, so could Marlowe. The air began to wheeze from Marlowe’s balloon of happiness.

She’d been thinking about their planned project on the way to the airport. They’d agreed to spend time with Isabel at Sunnycrest so that she didn’t have to shoulder all the responsibility. Her sister had adopted a baby and since she was a single mom, she had her hands full. Gabby had taken out her electronic reader and Marlowe did likewise, although she had no intentions of reading. After talking to Gabby, she felt wired.

Meeting her seatmate felt like a bit of good luck. Marlowe’s spirits felt a jolt of positive energy. After a while, Gabby put her reader away and the two exchanged business cards. For the rest of the trip to Atlanta, they talked and talked. Gabby was married with two older sons. She was on her way to a decorators conference in San Diego. Marlowe admired her for expanding her horizons. Real estate wasn’t her only gig, and maybe that meant more business for the agents who worked with her. Driscoll & Associates was a partnership with her husband Chip. That must be nice, or so Marlowe thought.

But then her sister Samantha’s situation came to mind. Sam had been in a partnership with her husband Kurt for over twenty years. Their niche of marketing for healthcare companies had become an impressive empire. She’d always admired them until Kurt dumped Marlowe’s sister for a younger model. Sam’s situation made Marlowe furious. She wanted to take back every expensive tie she’d ever bought her former brother-in-law for Christmas.

Glancing down toward the Kate Spade bag she’d stuffed under the seat in front of her, Marlowe wondered about her silent phone. Right now it was turned off, but Jenna should have called before take-off.

What about their plans for the upcoming open house? Marlowe wanted an update, and the silence wasn’t like Jenna. She’d left a very specific to-do list, and Jenna had been excited. Since this was a big ticket property with a high profile seller, there couldn’t be any slip-ups.

Before long the plane landed with a whoosh. Hearing the passengers behind her scramble out of their seats, Marlowe lifted her bag onto her lap. One of the things Marlowe liked about First Class was the ability to get off first. Sitting next to Gabby had been fun. Would she ever hear from her again? She sure hoped so. Marlowe slipped out and so did Gabby. They grabbed their bags, thanked the pilot and crew and trekked up the ramp.

“I’ll send you those names,” Gabby promised before setting off down the concourse.

“Thanks. Great meeting you, Gabby.” The concourse was loud and she had to raise her voice over the announcements coming over the air. “Hope to hear from you soon.”

Was she being too pushy? If you didn’t ask, nothing happened, especially in real estate. That’s how she’d become the listing agent for Bobby Jenson’s property in Port Royal.

“Absolutely. We’ll talk soon.” With a flip of one hand, Gabby Driscoll took off. She had the stride of a woman who knew where she was going. Watching Gabby take on the concourse with her wheeled carryon, Marlowe smiled. The crowds seemed to get out of her way as she clicked along.

Gabby reminded Marlowe of her own Aunt Cate. The two might have a lot in common. She’d have to set up something so they could meet. Maybe a lunch? Marlowe chuckled to herself. Everything happens for a reason. There she was, already planning on getting those two older women together. Aunt Cate would need friends since she was leaving New York. But then again, her aunt didn’t have a shy bone in her body. Making friends had never been a problem for her.

Stomach growling, Marlowe checked the overhead board for departures. Still a two hour wait until her plane left for Naples. At least the flight was on time and she headed for concourse A. Her favorite place to wait, Brioche Doree offered croissants and lattes. Craving comfort food, she quickly made her choices and settled into one of the small tables while they heated her croissant. Time to check her messages. Darn it. Still nothing from Jenna, which was becoming annoying.

“Getting in at four o’clock.” Marlowe tapped out a text. “Do you have time for a chat then? I’ll call from the car and we can go over the details for the open house. So excited!” Excitement wasn’t exactly what was churning in her stomach. Irritation was more like it.

This open house was major and a real notch on her belt. Marlowe had scored a coup with a multi-million dollar property in Port Royal. The spacious mansion on the water was easily the largest listing she’d ever handled and had come about so naturally. She’d met Bobby Jensen at a cocktail party given by her boss, Landon Hardy.

Landon, whose calls she’d been ignoring. But Marlowe didn’t want to think about that now. Landon and Bobby were old friends. They’d gone to prep school together in Massachusetts. She’d laughed, listening to the two of them toss jokes at each other. Bobby had the same broad eastern accent that Landon sported. The night Marlowe had met Bobby she’d listened to the two men try to outdo each other with outrageous school stories. Tiresome stuff, really.

Still, she’d stuck around. After Landon walked away to “work the room,” as he always said, Bobby mentioned that he was putting his house on the market. Marlowe had been stunned when she jokingly offered to list it and he’d taken her up on it. “You look like a woman who’d be perfect for the job,” Bobby had said from the side of his mouth.

“That I…I am. Right. Excellent.” She could hardly get the words out.

Bobby had leaned closer. “Do you think this’ll piss Landon off? Haven’t said a word about this to him yet.”

“Probably.” Would that kill the deal? Her stomach had twisted at the thought.

“Love it! A fearless woman.” Bobby rocked his head back with a raucous laugh that made Landon look their way. Marlowe left right after that, her mind swelling with dollar signs. That had been in October and she’d been quietly working on the rollout ever since. The plan was a bit delayed because Bobby traveled so much and December wasn’t a good time to launch a new property. He had at least three other homes, which might be why he didn't need this twenty-five million dollar oceanside home anymore.

As she developed the plan, their conversations had been short. Usually at the end, he'd toss out “Send the details to Marvin.” Marvin Brash was his executive assistant. Someday Marlowe wanted a dedicated assistant. But for right now she had Jenna. Marlowe glanced at her phone again. No messages.

The property market was booming in Florida. By January many visitors had often enjoyed the holidays in Naples and wanted their own place in the sun. The timing of this open house was critical. Everything had to be perfectly suited to the clientele she hoped to attract. As she nibbled on the croissant and sipped her latte, she opened the event spreadsheet on her phone. What was this? The buttery roll choked her for a second when she ran down her planning list, from food to favors. No updates. How could that be? She was typing in her questions when Jenna’s response came.

“No worries,” her protegee wrote. “Open House was a huge New Year’s Day success. Update to follow.”

Was a success? What was this about New Year’s? Marlowe's fingers went numb. How could she feel hot and cold at the same time? Shaking out her fingers, she was tempted to fire off a response. But no. Her mind raced and she needed time to think. Landon had once told her that she was too quick on the trigger. Maybe she’d missed a text from Jenna. The two weeks in Charlevoix had been relaxing but totally involving in a wonderfully mindless way.

Had she let her family distract her from business?