Chapter 17
Ting. Morgan grabbed her phone off the kitchen counter and tapped the screen. “Hey, Wyatt.”
“Hello, beautiful. I’m over in Easton Harbor. What’s going on at the gallery?”
“Edward Ryze found out Grandmother wasn’t going to fork over cash, so he decided to hire protesters. Are they picketing in front of the gallery?”
“No, but they’re pretty darn close.”
“Crud. I guess it was too much to hope they would go away. Ryze is going to make them hang around and earn their two hundred bucks.”
“I’ll give Grady a buzz and offer to back him up if needed.”
“Which probably isn’t a bad idea.” Morgan changed the subject. “On a brighter note, how is your day?”
“Same old, same old. Writing traffic tickets, rescuing cats from trees. I had an interesting call to Calvin Boothe’s house.”
“Calvin Boothe,” Morgan repeated. “Why does this name sound familiar?”
“He wrote an unflattering book about the Easton family,” Wyatt said.
“I remember him now. He has a no trespassing sign in his yard. Ariel’s mom told me he has a temper.”
“Someone trespassed. He called it in. Speaking of calls, I need a favor.”
“A favor?”
“I have a special delivery arriving later tonight and was wondering if I could have it dropped off at your place. Will you be home?”
“I don’t have any plans. What is it?”
“A secret.”
“You won’t tell me?”
“Nope. It should arrive around six thirty.”
“Chester and I will be here. I’m expecting a delivery, too.” Morgan told him she’d ordered a housewarming gift for Quinn and was waiting for it to come in.
“Good. Hey, gotta go. Thanks.”
“You’re welcome.” Morgan told him goodbye and motioned to Chester, who was sprawled out on the floor. “It’s time to tackle the attic. If I remember correctly, we have a box of almost brand new toys upstairs I bet Can-dee would like.”
She swapped out her good clothes for sweatpants and an old T-shirt. Grabbing a broom and dustpan, Morgan tromped up the stairs and lowered the attic ladder.
Chester pawed at the bottom step and let out a low whine.
“It’s dusty up there,” she warned.
Undeterred, her pup gave her “the look.”
“Fine. But don’t say I didn’t warn you.” Morgan grabbed an empty backpack and returned to where he stood waiting. “You’ll have to ride up in the backpack.”
She nudged Chester inside and lifted the bag, noticing that it sagged under his weight. “You’re getting a little chunky, buddy. It might be time to cut back on the Treatos.”
Reaching the top she let Chester out and turned the lights on, surveying her surroundings.
The pungent aroma of mothballs lingered in the air. Faint streams of light filtered through the grimy window. “Stay here. I’ll go get the cleaning stuff.”
Making her way back down again, Morgan grabbed what she thought she might need and returned to the attic.
First things first, she sifted through the stack of boxes neatly lined up against the wall. She found the box marked “Chester” and began emptying the contents.
Chester watched for several long moments before grabbing one of his “like new,” barely used toys and making a run for it.
“Hey!” Morgan lunged forward, but Chester was too fast and easily moved out of reach. “You don’t even play with these.”
She took the toy and placed it back on the pile.
Chester, thinking it was a game, swiped another one, leading Morgan on a merry chase around the room.
“Fine.” Breathless, she gave up and let him keep it. “I’ll win this battle, one way or another.”
Setting the rest of the pile off to the side, she tackled cleaning the window, scrubbing and polishing it until it sparkled.
While she worked, she mulled over Edward Ryze, the protesters and Priscilla’s promise not to write a story.
The woman seemed eager to turn over a new leaf. Maybe she’d come to the realization that life was too short to hold grudges. Hopefully, Elizabeth and her sister-in-law had enough years ahead of them to mend fences and salvage their relationship.
Her thoughts drifted to her conversation with Mrs. Arnsby, who had asked if Wyatt had proposed. Along with her reluctance to wed again, thanks to her ex, there was another problem looming on the horizon if marriage was in their future.
Wyatt had purchased his family’s home and was content to live there while Morgan would never sell Looking Glass Cottage. Not in a million years.
Although the cottage oozed coziness, it was spacious enough to accommodate a family, boasting three ample sized bedrooms and two full bathrooms.
The yard was plenty big enough for kids to run around, although being on a busy road wasn’t ideal for small children.
Morgan turned the vacuum off and heard a rustling, followed by a dull thud. She tracked down her pup, who was digging around in a back corner.
As she drew closer, she noticed a small section of the flooring was missing, exposing the joists.
“What are you doing, buddy?”
Pretending not to hear, Chester doubled down on his efforts, burying his head even deeper into the opening. His tail shot straight up in the air, a sure sign he was onto something.
“Suit yourself. Don’t get a sliver in your nose.” Morgan placed her hands on her hips, slowly circling the room. There wasn’t much use for it, other than storage, because of the lack of headroom. At best, it would make a great children’s playroom.
With a quick check on Chester, who still had his head buried in the corner, Morgan carried the cleaning supplies downstairs and put them away.
She returned to the attic and found her pup sitting near the top step, his furry face covered in a layer of dust, giving him an “old man” beard and eyebrows.
“I should nickname you the dust buster.” Morgan swiped at the dust. “Let’s go get you cleaned up.”