Chapter 21
“Nothing yet?” Quinn asked.
“Nope.” Morgan scrolled through the daily news. It had been three days since she’d spotted Priscilla Finkpin and the Bay News reporter eating dinner at the restaurant. Three days of waiting for the story about the “alleged” fake artwork being sold. Three days of wondering if protesters would be marching near the gallery again. And yet, it had been eerily quiet.
After seeing Priscilla and the news reporter together, Morgan’s first instinct was to confront her and ask her what she was doing, reminding the woman of her promise.
Perhaps Priscilla was still researching, putting the pieces together to make it even more scandalous. A sickening thought occurred to Morgan. “You don’t think she’s holding off, planning to print the story on Grandmother and Gerard’s wedding day, do you?”
Quinn wrinkled her nose. “Would she sink to that level?”
“I don’t know. I mean, she seemed sincere when she promised not to write a story.” Morgan sighed heavily. “I was so sure she would keep her word. This is stressing me out.”
“Maybe we should mention it to Elizabeth, to warn her.”
Morgan immediately shot the idea down. “Grandmother already tried talking to Prissy about it. She left a message asking her to call her back. As far as I know, she’s still waiting for her to return the call.”
“Intentionally avoiding her,” Quinn said.
“That’s what I’m thinking.” Morgan’s expression grew glum. “Grandmother has enough on her plate. If Prissy prints the story on her wedding day, at least she’ll be so busy she won’t know.”
After Morgan left the art gallery, she stopped by Easton Estate, as she had for the last few days, to run errands, and help with whatever needed to be done.
The estate was being transformed right before her eyes. String lights had been strategically placed throughout. The outdoor heaters were ready to keep guests warm in the event of an afternoon chill.
If anything, Elizabeth was calmer than normal. Stoic. Serene. In control—at least visibly.
“How are Chester and Esther?” she asked after assuring Morgan all the wedding details were being handled.
“I’ve never seen Chester happier. He loves Esther. They’re two peas in a pod.”
“And how is my little ring bearer doing as far as practicing for his big day and duty to carry the rings to the altar?”
“I’ve got it all figured out.” Morgan gave her a thumbs up. “We’ve done a few practice runs. Rest assured Chester will make it to the altar without getting sidetracked.”
“How did you manage that? Last time we practiced, he was all over the place.”
Morgan tapped the side of her forehead. “I have a secret weapon…or more like a few secret weapons.”
“I’ll be glad when it’s over.”
“But plan to enjoy every minute of your big day,” Morgan reminded her.
“Absolutely. At least we haven’t heard from Edward Ryze. I’m sure he’ll surface, hopefully after the wedding.”
Morgan answered with a vague reply, agreeing she hoped he would wait, and silently praying Priscilla would keep her promise and not have a change of heart.
After leaving, she had a feeling a new development was on the horizon and right around the corner. Little did she know it would play out in the way she least expected.
*****
“I’ve never seen so many people in one place at one time.” Morgan shaded her eyes, watching a small army of workers carry totes of decorations inside the tents.
A second group was assembling the walkway leading from the back of the house to the trellis overlooking Lake Huron. Even more were building the band’s makeshift stage. The wedding coordinator stood in the thick of it, barking orders, and directing the workers.
“Looking back, I should’ve rented a hall and called it a day,” Elizabeth sighed. “The entire estate is in a disarray.”
“But will be back to normal before you know it.” Morgan linked arms with her grandmother as they began making their way inside. “Brett should be on his way in from Toronto.”
“He took an earlier flight,” Elizabeth said. “He’s upstairs in his office.”
“Maybe I’ll pop in to say ‘hi’.”
They were halfway down the hall when Mrs. Arnsby hurried toward them, an anxious expression on her face. “There you are.”
“Morgan and I were outside observing the chaos.”
“You have a guest.”
“A guest?” Elizabeth echoed.
“She’s in the library. I didn’t know where else to put her.”
Morgan and her grandmother exchanged a puzzled look. “Who is it?”
“Priscilla Finkpin.”
“Prissy is here?”
The cook nodded. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know what to do.”
“It’s all right Jane. I’ll see what she wants.”
“Thank you. Let me know if I should track down Jax in case he needs to throw her out on her ear.”
“That won’t be necessary.” Elizabeth made a move toward the library.
Morgan reached out to stop her. “I think I might know why she’s here.”
“Is it regarding Edward Ryze’s claim?”
“Remember the Bay News reporter who was hanging around a few days ago, asking questions?”
“I do. I phoned Prissy to ask her if she knew him. She never called me back,” Elizabeth said.
“I saw Priscilla and the reporter eating dinner together last Saturday night at the Harbor Dockside,” Morgan blurted out.
“So…the two are working together to write a smear piece?” Elizabeth rolled her eyes. “I have to say, her timing is impeccable.”
“And maybe strategic. I’m sorry I didn’t mention it before. You have enough to worry about right now. I was hoping Priscilla would keep her promise not to write about the protesters and Edward Ryze.”
Elizabeth cleared her throat. “There’s an off chance her surprise visit is unrelated. However, something tells me this isn’t the case. We shall soon find out.”
The women reached the library and found Priscilla standing in front of the window, staring out.
“Hello, Priscilla.”
She spun around. “Hello, Elizabeth.” Her eyes flitted to Morgan. “Morgan.”
Morgan forced a smile. “Hello.”
“You have quite the crew on hand transforming the place.”
“It’s been…to be blunt…organized chaos.”
“I can see you have your hands full so I’ll make my visit brief,” Priscilla said. “I know all about Mr. Ryze’s claim, how he purchased fake artwork from your gallery.”
“I’m sure almost everyone who lives in Easton Harbor has probably heard,” Elizabeth replied in an even tone. “I’ve done my due diligence. The piece Mr. Ryze is trying to return is not the piece I sold him. To be blunt, he’s a swindler and a crook. I have no intention of paying him for a painting that the gallery didn’t sell him in the first place.”
“I have something for you.” Priscilla reached into her big black bag and pulled out a newspaper.
Morgan stood frozen, watching as she set it on the table.
Elizabeth glanced at it but didn’t make a move to pick it up. “A story about the fake piece?”
“It’s your wedding present. I had hoped to finish it sooner, but it took a little longer for me to wrap things up.”
Morgan glanced at Priscilla and then at the headline. “Canadian art dealer Edward Ryze, arrested for producing fake artwork.”
Her head shot up. “Ryze got caught?”
Priscilla beamed. “Remember when I told you I thought his name sounded familiar? A reporter from the Bay Harbor newspaper stopped by the Beacon’s office. We got to talking and compared notes. Edward Ryze has been purchasing authentic artwork for years, returning fakes he made to the various galleries he did business with. Very well done fakes, I might add.”
“Which is what he did to Easton Harbor Art Gallery,” Elizabeth said.
“When he doesn’t get what he wants, he hires people to picket. The only way to get rid of them is to pay them off.”
“How did you catch him?” Morgan asked.
“I have a little detective blood in me. I can’t give away all of my secrets now, can I?” Priscilla placed her hands behind her back, looking pleased as punch. “The bottom line is you won’t have to worry about him ever again.”
Elizabeth pressed her hand to her chest, briefly closing her eyes. “This is wonderful news.”
“I figured it would be the perfect wedding present. I’m only sorry I had to wait until the last minute to give it to you.” Priscilla told her the paper was an early print and would publish the following day.
Elizabeth slowly crossed the room until she stood directly in front of her sister-in-law. “Thank you, Priscilla.”
Morgan held her breath, watching the women. Years. Decades of animosity toward one another faded away.
“You’re welcome.” Priscilla sucked in a shaky breath, and Morgan could see her lower lip trembling. “I’ve done a lot of soul-searching these past few months. I’m not getting any younger. I don’t want to die a bitter old woman.” She lowered her head, staring at her clenched fists. “I’m hoping you’ll find it in your heart to forgive me for all the years I’ve tormented and antagonized you.”
Elizabeth pinned her with a stare. “Do you intend to continue writing unflattering stories about me, my grandchildren, or my extended family?”
“No. Unless they’re true. Then it will be my obligation as a journalist to write the truth.”
“Which means we’ll be safe from your wicked pen.”
“I suppose you will.” Priscilla held out her hand.
Elizabeth stared at it for a fraction of a second before wrapping both arms around her former nemesis and hugging her tightly. “To new beginnings and starting over.”
A lone tear trailed down Priscilla’s cheek as she closed her eyes. “I’m ready for new beginnings.”