Chapter 15
Morgan paced at the end of the sidewalk. The clock was ticking. She needed to get the last few guests, the stragglers, to the harbor before the ferry left for its final trip to the mainland.
She glanced at her watch for the umpteenth time. The hum of an engine caught her attention. Greg, behind the wheel of Locke Pointe’s spiffy new passenger van, coasted to a stop. He hopped out and hurried around the front. “You’re still here?”
“Still here and waiting to head to the ferry.” Morgan grimaced. “There’s no way I’ll be able to drop the passengers off at the ferry and make it to the airport in time.”
“We’ll divide and conquer,” Greg said. “You head to the ferry, and I’ll take the others to the airport.”
“But I told you I would handle it.”
Greg patted her arm. “We’re a team. I’ll have plenty of time to take care of the last-minute chores before packing up and driving into town to pick up my mom.”
“Are you sure?”
“Positive,” he said. “I see them coming now.”
A wave of relief washed over Morgan. Sure enough, the final four guests emerged and hurried to where she and Greg stood waiting.
“I’m sorry. We were running behind.” Bailey, the youngest guest in the group, jogged toward her, an anxious look on her face. “My mom is the slowest packer on the planet.”
“I wanted to make sure I got everything.” The older woman shot her daughter an aggravated look. “It’s always rush, rush, rush.”
Morgan tapped the top of her watch. “We’re running out of time. Captain Davey called a few minutes ago asking how much longer. The last ferry to the mainland is leaving soon.”
Bailey’s jaw dropped. “Oh my gosh.” She grabbed her mother’s arm and began dragging her toward Morgan’s SUV. “If we get stuck in this snowstorm, it’s all your fault.”
To her credit, the woman picked up the pace, moving with a sense of urgency. Morgan lingered long enough to make sure Greg and his passengers were on their way.
Driving as fast as she dared on the icy roads, it was a tense ride to the other side of the island.
They arrived to find Captain Davey standing at the end of the dock. Not bothering to park, she swung around and pulled alongside him.
“Sorry we’re late.”
“I was getting ready to give up on you.” He helped Morgan with the women’s bags, handing them off to the dockhands while the mother and daughter followed close behind.
Morgan cast a worried glance skyward. Thick, dark snow clouds swirled, spitting out huge snowflakes that drifted to the ground. A whip of wind tossed her hair into her eyes. “It feels like we’re on the precipice of disaster.”
“Bite your tongue,” Captain Davey said. “I would like to say the island has cleared out, but believe it or not, I had two passengers, a man and boy, who arrived only hours ago.”
Her scalp tingled, almost certain he was talking about Tristan and Jeff Blakely.
“They didn’t tell you why they were here?
” Despite Captain Davey being an Easton, a member of their extended family, the last thing Brett needed was for the rumor mill to get cranked up.
Although it was possible that it was already too late.
“No. They mentioned something about having booked a room here at the harbor.” Captain Davey told her he’d noticed power surges all morning and his office lights flickering. “I’m wondering if our power grid is as stable as we’ve come to believe.”
Morgan had noticed the same…the lights flickering at her cottage and at Locke Pointe. She hoped it wasn’t a sign of things to come. “I would invite you to Locke Pointe, but Greg said we won’t have enough juice to run the house if the power goes out.”
“I have a fireplace at home with plenty of firewood, but thank you for the offer,” Davey said. “I hope you’re not planning on riding this storm out by yourself.”
“Chester and I are heading over to Easton Estate.” Morgan told him that if his power went out, he was welcome to come stay.
“Elizabeth has already extended an invitation. I’ll be fine. Stay safe, Morgan.”
Whoo-ee. The harbor master whistled loudly, signaling they were ready to depart.
“Be careful.” Morgan said a small prayer for her friend, watching as he boarded the vessel. The deckhands tossed the ropes, and the ferry slipped out into open water.
An inkling of trepidation washed over Morgan. Within a few short hours, those left on the island would be stuck until the storm passed, a thought that struck her as terrifying yet oddly romantic. A snowy white Christmas spent with loved ones.
Back at Locke Pointe, Morgan found Tina packing up.
“Are you sure you’ll be all right?” she fretted. “When will you be locking up and leaving?”
“As soon as Ronni gets here. We have a few more hours before it gets too bad.” Morgan gave her a quick hug. “Enjoy your Christmas, and I’ll see you the day after.”
“Sounds good. Merry Christmas, Morgan.”
“Merry Christmas, Tina.” Morgan trailed after her and noticed Ronni’s car pulling in. “There’s Ronni now.”
She passed Tina on the sidewalk. After a brief word, she trekked up the steps to where Morgan stood waiting. “I can almost feel the storm coming.”
Morgan watched her remove her snow-covered boots. “What does it feel like?”
“Like a chill settling in your bones.”
“It sounds like the perfect weather for a cup of hot cocoa.” The women traipsed into the kitchen and fixed a cup before circling around to the dining room.
“What should we do with these crafts we bought for our guest’s Christmas party?”
“You could pack them up and save them for next year,” Ronni suggested.
“I suppose.” Morgan began gathering up the bottles of glitter and glue. “It’s such a shame.”
“Or you could take them to Easton Estate. We might want something to keep us busy while we ride out the storm.”
Morgan snapped her fingers. Ronni was right. The guests were gone, but her family was still here. “Quinn, you, me, Grandmother, Brett, Gerard. Shoot, I bet we can even convince Jax to channel his inner creativity.”
“Exactly.” As soon as they finished their hot chocolate, Ronni helped Morgan box up the supplies and carry them to her SUV.
“When are you heading to Easton Estate?”
“I need to grab a couple of things from home, pick up Chester and we’ll be on our way.”
“I’ll see you there. Be careful.”
“I will.” Morgan gave a quick wave and watched as Ronni drove off.
Slipping back inside, she lingered in the doorway, shivering involuntarily as the wind whistled through the windowpanes. She thought about Wyatt, who had taken a morning ferry to the mainland to spend Christmas with his parents.
December 24th, Christmas Eve. It would be the most interesting Christmas Morgan had ever spent—hunkering down at Easton Estate and riding out the storm. She drifted from room to room, thinking about how many storms Locke Pointe had weathered. Probably more than she could ever imagine.
Morgan found herself standing in front of her mother’s Locke Pointe painting. Her presence had lingered long after the open house ended.
Tink. Morgan jumped at the sound of her cell phone. It was Elizabeth. Where are you?
Morgan: Locking up Locke Pointe.
Elizabeth: Conditions are deteriorating quickly. You should think about heading over soon.
Morgan: I need to stop by Looking Glass Cottage and grab Chester and my bags. Leaving in a few.
Elizabeth: Prissy is here. She said half of Easton Harbor is out of power.
At that precise moment, the lights flickered and then went out.
She texted back, telling her grandmother she’d also lost power. I’ll be there within the hour.
Elizabeth: The sooner the better. The airport has become a shelter for those who can make it…if they can get there.
Morgan’s heart skipped a beat. Easton Island Airport was located close to the center of town, down winding roads which were easily accessible for the most part, but during a storm? It would be next to impossible.
Hopefully, the islanders, a hearty bunch, heeded the advisories and had a backup plan in place.
Morgan: How are Brett and his guests?
Elizabeth: It’s been interesting, I’ll give you that. Hurry home.
She signed off, half-hoping the power would come back on, but the house remained quiet and dark, except for the occasional whistling wind.
By the time Morgan put her boots, coat, hat and gloves on, the path Greg had shoveled was already filling in.
Tromping through the snow, she reached her SUV, now covered in a thick layer of the fluffy white stuff. First things first, she started the engine to warm the interior.
Morgan grabbed the scraper and brush and cleared her windshield. Hopping inside, she revved up the engine and backed out.
The road had become little more than a two-lane track. Gripping the steering wheel tightly, Morgan crept to the end of the street and checked for traffic. There was not a car in sight.
Praying she would make it without sliding into the ditch, she drove as fast as she dared. Reaching Looking Glass Cottage, Morgan pulled into her driveway and shifted into park. Not planning to stay long, she left her SUV idling.
Bracing against the cold wintry mix of snow and wind, Morgan hopped out and ran to the door. Chester stood waiting for her, an anxious look on his furry little face. “We’re going over to Grandmother’s.” She ran to her room and grabbed her overnight bag, already packed and sitting on the floor.
It wasn’t until she was near the door that she realized her power was also out. Out and still only early afternoon. Morgan began to feel lightheaded. She and Chester needed to get a move on.
She was halfway across the room when she noticed a car had pulled off to the side of her driveway and parked next to her.
Morgan scooped her pup up, peering through the window, watching as the driver emerged and began wading through the deep snow. “Is that who I think it is?”
She ran to the front door and flung it open.
“Hello, Morgan. I’m hoping you can help me.”