Chapter 12
“The good news is we made it home in one piece.” Harlow leaned back in the rocking chair, a sigh of relief escaping her lips. “Although something tells me reporters and fans are already lining up to buy tickets to the island so they can hunt me down.”
“I have to admit, I was totally freaked out when they were pushing up against us, touching you like you were some sort of good luck charm.”
“And pulling my hair.”
Eryn’s eyes widened. “Someone pulled your hair?”
“Actually, I’m pretty sure they were collecting a few strands. ”
Her best friend made a choking sound. “Why would they do that?”
“Your guess is as good as mine. I doubt they would make much trying to sell them.”
“It was the craziest mess I’ve ever seen in my life,” David muttered. “I kept thinking at any moment they were going to drag you off.”
“The thought had…has crossed my mind,” Harlow admitted.
“I always wondered how bad things got when you told me your bodyguards went almost everywhere with you,” Eryn said.
“Two, sometimes three. To be honest, I didn’t think it would be as big of an issue up here. Clearly, I was wrong.” Harlow thought about her friend and bodyguard, Vic Stern. She hadn’t heard a peep from him since her accident.
“We can hire a couple of bodyguards if you want,” David said. “I’ll clean out one of the other cottages and they can stay there. ”
“Thank you for the offer. Let’s keep it as a backup plan.”
Her father glanced at his watch. “I’m heading up front to wait for my weekly grocery delivery.”
“You have groceries delivered here?” Harlow asked.
“Every Tuesday at three o’clock.” Her father went inside, returning moments later, pulling a camo-colored wagon behind him.
Mort, who had been napping near the front porch steps, scrambled to his feet.
“Mort is excited about the cart.”
“He loves grocery day because he knows he’ll be getting special treats.” Her father tapped the side of his forehead. “The dog is no dummy.”
Eryn reluctantly stood. “I need to head home and get ready for work. I’ll walk with you and Mort to the front gate.”
“I wouldn’t mind tagging along,” Harlow hinted .
“The more the merrier.” David reached for the door handle. “Do you want to take the scooter?”
She waved dismissively. “Nah. The wheelchair is already here. I’m fine with that, if you don’t mind giving me a hand.”
“Not at all.” Her father helped her into the wheelchair and off they went.
While they walked, Harlow told them about life in the Hollywood fishbowl. How she and her husband Robert had learned to handle the attention. She mentioned the high-tech security systems installed at their Malibu property, the doorman/security guard at their New York apartment and Florida condo, and the detailed pre-planning it took for the couple to dine out at a restaurant.
Nothing was spontaneous or impromptu. Everything was planned out with military precision, accounting for every minute of their trip. Harlow didn’t bring up what she and Robert called “the incident. ”
A deranged fan talked his way into their Palm Beach condo, making it past the on-duty security guard. Somehow, he’d figured out which unit was theirs and even succeeded in sneaking in.
Thank God they weren’t home. The man had scared their housekeeper half to death, demanding to see Harlow. She convinced him she wasn’t there, and he finally left.
The housekeeper promptly called security. The man made it as far as the parking lot where he was detained and eventually arrested. Harlow and Robert later discovered he had a stun gun, zip ties, duct tape and a hunting knife in his backpack. With a little behind-the-scenes work, the couple managed to keep the story out of the news, afraid a copycat potential kidnapper would read about what had happened and try again.
“Over the years, through trial and error, we put practices into place that have kept us safe,” Harlow summarized. “I’m not sure about hiring bodyguards I don’t know, who haven’t been vetted. ”
The trio reached the main gate and found the grocery store’s delivery driver pulling up.
Harlow wheeled herself along the sidewalk, easing in next to Eryn while her father and the driver began transferring grocery bags from the wagon to David’s camo-colored cart.
She tugged on Eryn’s arm and whispered in her ear. “My groceries are delivered out of necessity, but I have to say I’m surprised Dad doesn’t go to the store and shop for what he needs.”
“Not to the grocery store. Not out to eat. He runs his errands, but that’s about it.”
“He doesn’t leave the house?”
“Doesn’t leave the island,” Eryn corrected. “I’m going to take a wild guess and say he hasn’t been to the mainland in over a year. Getting him to tag along today is nothing short of a miracle. In fact, I was shocked when he flew to California.” Eryn gave her friend a quick hug. “I need to get going. I’ll see you tomorrow. ”
“See you tomorrow.” Eryn’s words echoed in Harlow’s head after she left. Her father was a recluse.
While the men finished loading the groceries, David joked with the driver, chatting easily as if they were old friends.
The realization Harlow had no clue about what her father’s life had been like for years hit her full force. Five long, wasted years.
Despite feeling guilty over their estranged relationship, it didn’t change the fact her mother was dead. After all this time, her father had never explained or even theorized how the guests had all escaped, yet her mother ended up trapped in the lodge when the fire broke out. Meanwhile, he was home and asleep in his bed. At least, that was what he’d told her, had told the fire chief and everyone else.
Harlow knew for a fact her parents were having marital difficulties. Ginger had taken up residence in the manager’s unit while her husband lived in their cottage.
The couple were like oil and water. Two opinionated, strong-willed people who butted heads. But they had always seemed to work through their issues.
The driver climbed back into his delivery wagon, waving goodbye as he left.
Mort stuck his snout in a grocery bag and began sniffing around.
David gently nudged him away. “You know you’re not supposed to be digging through the groceries,” he scolded. “I’ll give you a treat when we get home.”
Harlow grimaced, realizing they had a minor dilemma on their hands. “How are we going to get me and the wagon home?”
“I have it all figured out.” David unzipped the cart’s storage pouch and pulled out a piece of rope. He tied one end to the wagon’s handle and looped the other end through his belt loop. Checking to make sure both ends were secure, he guided Harlow’s wheelchair through the gate.
The wagon followed behind. Mort, keeping a close eye on the “food cart,” brought up the rear.
Harlow laughed out loud, thinking they must look like quite a sight. Wheelchair. Dad. Wagon. Dog.
“What’s so funny?”
“I was thinking we must look like a little wagon train making their way home.”
“You gotta admit, it’s ingenious,” he chuckled.
“I can’t wait to be back on my feet.”
“You know what the doctor said. It’s going to take time,” her father warned. “You can’t push too hard.”
“I won’t, but I also refuse to be a burden.”
“You’re not a burden. ”
??…when your petals close
I can’t see my beautiful rose…??
The singing grew louder and more off-key.
Harlow caught fragmented words—pollinating, clipping and snipping.
They rounded the curve and found Lottie on her knees, tending to the flower garden. A wide-brimmed straw hat sat perched atop her head.
A stomach churning stench wafted in the air. Harlow made a gagging sound and clamped her hand over her mouth. “What is that awful smell?”
“Lottie’s fertilizer concoction,” her father whispered, ducking behind a nearby shrub bush. “Let’s head back around the other way.”
Mort had other ideas. He dashed past them and cut through the bushes.
Woof.
“Mort,” Lottie snorted. “Now, where on earth did you come from? ”
Her head popped up, wide-brimmed hat and all. “Hello, David, Harlow. I thought I saw the delivery wagon out front.”
“Yes. Uh.” David straightened his back. “I picked up this week’s order. We were on our way home.”
“Did you remember to order those Bill Knapp’s ToasterTops I told you were on sale this week?”
“I did.”
“What’s a ToasterTop?” Harlow asked.
“A cornbread muffin.” Lottie licked her lips. “Spread a little homemade strawberry jam on top and you’ll think you’ve died and gone to heaven. They’re also one of your father’s favorites.”
Harlow arched her brow, eyeing her father with interest. “What else does Dad like?”
Lottie rattled off the list. “Fried walleye, his delicious Michigan apple crumb pie. ”
“Apple crumb pie.” Harlow patted her stomach. “The recipe from the Wynn Harbor Inn restaurant?”
“You know it.” David’s expression grew mischievous. “Would you care to help me whip one up?”
Harlow playfully rolled her eyes at her father’s teasing. “Are you ready for another apple pie pandemonium?”
“As long as we have the fire extinguisher handy.”
Lottie looked from father to daughter. “I’m missing a private joke.”
“I tried helping Dad in the restaurant’s kitchen one day, when he was making his famous apple crumb pie.”
David picked up. “Harlow decided we needed extra apples in the filling. I let her talk me into overstuffing the pie before putting it in the oven. ”
“Let me guess.” Lottie snapped her fingers. “It bubbled over.”
“Big time. I thought it was catching fire, so I grabbed the fire extinguisher and started spraying the inside of the oven,” Harlow said.
“What a mess.” David shook his head. “Of course, the pie was ruined.”
“And I never asked to help Dad make his famous apple crumble pie again.” Harlow nudged him. “I’m ready to try again when you are.”
Lottie slid her glove off and scratched her forehead. “What are you two up to today?”
“We’re gonna go home and put the groceries away. In fact, I better get a move on before the ice cream melts.”
“Why don’t you come by for…”
David quickly cut her off. “Harlow and I already have plans.”
Lottie’s shoulders drooped. “Plans? ”
“Yes…uh. We’re going to take Winnie out for a spin. We best be going. I’ll see you later, Lottie.” He called Mort, who was busy digging a hole.
Harlow waited until they were out of earshot. “I didn’t know we were taking the sailboat out.”
“Neither did I, but now that I think about it, the weather is ideal for a cruise around the island.”
Harlow lifted her head and gazed at the clear blue skies. “I have so many fond memories of cruising around in Winnie. It won’t be long before it will be time to winterize her.”
“We have a few more weeks, but you know how fickle early fall can be. We need to take advantage of the nice days while we can.” David made quick work of putting the groceries away. Harlow helped as much as she could and finally gave up when she realized she was doing the exact opposite.
“I’ll go grab my windbreaker.” Checking to make sure Mort wasn’t lurking behind her, Harlow spun around and began making her way toward her room.
“Do you want some help?”
“I think I can manage.” She cleared her bedroom doorway and swung around.
Mort was close behind. He cut in front of her, blocking her path. “Do you want to come in?”
He promptly ambled inside and flopped down. “Sorry, buddy, but you’re gonna have to back up a little more so I can close the door.”
He placed his head on his paw, refusing to budge.
Harlow wiggled her foot off the footrest. Ignoring the sharp pain, she nudged him to the side.
“Good gravy,” she huffed. “Something tells me the physical therapist will have her work cut out for her. ”
With Mort out of the way, she closed the door and wheeled herself over to the bed. Harlow pulled her cell phone from her pocket and glanced at the screen. She noticed a recent text with an attachment. It was from the film studio.
She clicked on the attachment, an addendum extending her start date for the project. Along with the attachment was a note, asking her to sign it and return it.
“Robert.” Harlow promptly dialed her husband’s cell phone number. The call went directly to voicemail. “Hello, Robert. Please call me as soon as you get this message.”
She ended the call and stared at the phone, wondering if he was intentionally avoiding her. The majority of their recent communication was done via text. When she’d checked out of the hospital. When she’d boarded the plane…after arriving on Mackinac Island.
The last communication was that morning when she let him know she was on her way to meet with the physical therapist. He never replied. Harlow was almost certain he wanted to wait until after her appointment, when she had an update.
He was either in complete denial about her condition or determined to salvage the movie deal, no matter what the cost. Whether Robert wanted to or not, it was time for them to talk.