Chapter 15
Harlow waded into the icy Lake Huron water, gazing out at the Mackinac Bridge off in the distance. It was a picture-perfect day, with bright blue skies and an occasional puffy white cloud off in the distance. She knelt on the ground and dipped her hand in the water. Instead of chilly, it felt warm and sticky.
A small sigh escaped her lips. Harlow flipped over, groggily realizing she wasn’t standing at the water’s edge, but was still in bed. And she wasn’t alone. Mort sat mere inches away, intently watching her.
“What time is it? I bet you would say it’s time to get up.” Propping on one elbow, she glanced at the clock beside her bed. Nine forty-five .
Harlow couldn’t remember the last time she’d slept in. Her days started with an hour-long workout in the home gym. Breakfast, typically a spoonful of granola, a cup of Greek yogurt or a boiled egg was followed by online or in-person interviews, appointments, rehearsals, meetings. Robert kept her schedule tight and on time.
She flopped back down and closed her eyes. The clank and clatter of pots and pans echoed from the kitchen.
Mort heard it too. Mission accomplished…waking Harlow, meant it was time to monitor what was going on in the kitchen. He trotted to the door, nudged it open, and slipped out.
Harlow flipped over. She began wiggling her toes and moving her legs. Both still hurt, but not in a way that made her grit her teeth. It was more of a dull, lingering ache.
She flung the covers back and swung her lower half over the side. Scooting from bed to wheelchair confirmed her initial assessment. Harlow was feeling a tiny bit better. In fact, she was itching to meet with her new therapist and finalize a game plan.
A full day of hanging out at home with nothing to do had come and gone. But today would be different. It was the beginning of her road to recovery.
She wheeled herself into the bathroom where it took an agonizingly long time to complete her grooming tasks…tasks she would have flown through in minutes before the accident.
With her blond hair smoothed back in a single sleek ponytail, her teeth squeaky clean and sporting a comfy pair of sweatpants and a T-shirt, she rolled her way out of the bedroom and through the house.
Harlow found her father standing at the stove, frying pan in front of him.
Mort stood at the ready, waiting for scraps to hit the floor so he could gobble them up.
“Hey, Dad. ”
David glanced over his shoulder. “Good morning, Harlow. How did you sleep?”
“Like a bear with a full belly settling in for a long winter’s nap. I can’t remember the last time I slept this late.”
“Your body needs rest.”
“Apparently so.” Harlow rolled the rest of the way into the room. “The kitchen smells yummy.”
“We’re having fish tacos for brunch. After our spin around the island yesterday, and talking about taking the fishing boat out, I got a hankering for walleye tacos.”
“Put me to work.” Harlow rubbed her palms together. “What can I do to help?”
“I still need to chop a few things.” He set a cutting board on the table, along with a knife and the taco fixings next to it.
While they chatted, Harlow peeled and sliced avocados. Up next, she carved cabbage into thin slices and then began chopping fresh cilantro. “Do you still have a vegetable garden?”
“I gave it up a couple of years ago. It was too much work for one or two people to eat.” He told her Lottie had been nagging him to start gardening again. “Maybe next year.”
“I can’t remember the last time I had a farm to table meal,” Harlow said. “I’m not talking about the restaurant variety, but one I saw for myself where the food actually came from. Not to brag or anything, but I have a green thumb. Maybe if I stick around long enough, I’ll give you a hand.”
David stopped stirring and slowly turned to face her. “Stick around?”
Harlow scooped the cabbage into a bowl. “I have some serious soul searching to do. My entire life, my career in its current state. I’m not sure if I want to return to it, at least at the pace I’ve been keeping. ”
He stared at her in disbelief, and Harlow could only imagine what was running through her father’s mind. She’d made it perfectly clear she would never step foot on Mackinac Island again, yet here she was, hinting at a complete restart.
She wouldn’t have believed it a month ago, but Harlow was beginning to realize changes needed to be made.
To be honest, she’d focused all her energy on building her career, building her image, and making money. She’d clawed her way to the top to get to where she was. What was next? More money? More runway deals? More movie contracts?
The truth of the matter was she wanted it all—financial security, a fabulous career and lifestyle. Yet she also yearned for a simpler life away from the spotlight. A quiet life with her husband and children. Hollywood was not a place to raise a family.
She and Robert needed to have a heart-to-heart talk. A real “sit down and let’s see what the future holds” conversation. Harlow suspected they had two completely different ideas about what that would be.
She hoped not. They both worked hard…so very hard to get to where they were. It would be a shame to walk away. Perhaps there was a way to compromise and come up with a happy medium. The best of both worlds.
“You mean step away from all the glitz and glam?” David asked.
“Maybe not give it up altogether but carve out a better life balance, if that makes sense.”
“It makes perfect sense. There’s plenty of room for you…and your husband to have a part-time home here.” David threw out a few ideas. Ideas about how they could create a private space for his daughter and Robert if he joined her.
Harlow didn’t have the heart to tell him it was a thought, not necessarily a done deal. There were a lot of negotiations which would need to take place first. Her gut told her Robert would not be on board, would not be interested in spending time on Mackinac Island—not by a longshot.
Working together, it didn’t take long for father and daughter to finish preparing their brunch. Harlow balanced her plate on her lap and followed her dad to the front porch. He brought along a handful of special treats for Mort, who made his rounds back and forth.
“Mort woke me up again this morning.”
“I’m almost positive I made sure your door was shut.”
“He’s smart. I bet he somehow figured out how to push down on the handle and let himself in.”
“Naughty dog,” David scolded.
“It’s okay. I would rather be woken up by Mort licking me than an alarm clock any day,” Harlow said. “He’s a good dog. Nice and mellow. ”
While they ate, David told Harlow he had a few errands to run, including running into town to mail packages. “You can go with me.”
“Thanks for the invite, but I think I’ll hang out here. I don’t want to overdo it before the physical therapy, massage therapy, whatever Kennedy has up her sleeve.”
“I understand.”
After finishing their meal, they made quick work of cleaning up and storing the leftovers. David, with Mort by his side, left not long after.
Harlow, thinking the least she could do was help dust, tracked down a dust rag and got to work. She quickly found out it was an ambitious idea…and an almost utter failure.
Thinking a spin around the property might clear her head, she steered her scooter out the front door, down the ramp and along the sidewalk. Making a wide circle, she stopped to admire the flowerbed Lottie had been working on the previous day .
Harlow thought about the relationship between the woman and her father. She detected a note of interest, at least on Lottie’s end, but was getting no reading at all from her dad.
He’d always been careful about showing his emotions in front of others. Harlow briefly wondered if David ever wished he’d had a son.
He’d never mentioned wanting a son. Neither had her mother. All the couple had ever shown their daughter was unconditional love. They had also encouraged her creativity during her teen years when she was trying to figure life out.
Last, but not least, the Wynns had instilled a strong work ethic. Harlow spent every summer working at Wynn Harbor Inn. She’d also taken a part-time job at the Grand Hotel, even during the school year. As soon as her homework was done, Harlow cleaned guests’ rooms, she waited tables in the restaurant, worked at the front desk checking people in .
She veered left, circling back toward the cottage. She cruised past the other cottages that weren’t damaged by the fire, coming to an abrupt halt when she noticed a stained-glass suncatcher in the front window of one of them. Harlow immediately recognized it as one she’d made years ago in grade school.
She steered the scooter down the sidewalk to the front porch, her heart plummeting when she realized there was no way to reach the door, short of crawling to it.
“Hey.”
Harlow turned to find Eryn flagging her down. “Did you get my text?”
“No. I forgot and left my cell phone on the kitchen counter.”
“I ran into your dad in town.”
“He invited me to go with him. I figured I would stay close to home and try not to overdo it before the physical therapist got here.” Harlow motioned to the vacant cottage’s front door. “Do you know what Dad keeps in here?”
Eryn nodded. “Why do you ask?”
“Because I noticed the suncatcher in the window. It was one I made in grade school.”
Her friend glanced over her shoulder. “I don’t think Pops Wynn is going to be back for a little while. I know where he hides the key if you want to look inside.”
Harlow gazed at the front door with the daisy yellow curtains. “Do you think he’ll be upset if we go in?”
“I don’t know.”
“You’ll have to help me get this contraption up the steps.”
Eryn darted across the lawn to David’s cottage. She grabbed the makeshift ramp he’d made, dragged it back to where Harlow sat waiting and wiggled it into place. “Your handy dandy ramp awaits.”
“Thanks.” As soon as her bestie was out of the way, Harlow hit the gas and sped to the top.
“You’re pretty good at getting around on your fancy set of wheels.” Eryn lifted the welcome mat, snatched the key from its hiding spot and unlocked the door. “Do you need help?”
“I think I can make it.” Harlow tapped the gas, easily clearing the threshold. She came to an abrupt stop, noting the lingering aroma of lilacs. “I smell lilacs.”
“I think your dad’s cleaning lady uses some sort of scented spray when she dusts.” Eryn eased in alongside her. “What do you think?”
“It looks…” Harlow’s voice faltered as she studied the cottage, similar in many ways to her father’s home but on a smaller scale. She hadn’t been inside in years, even before the fire .
Her breath caught in her throat when she realized the interior had been decorated in a very specific way.