Chapter 19
Morgan squinted her eyes, struggling to adjust to the bright beam of light filtering into her Easton Estate’s bedroom. Chester, who had nudged the bedroom curtain aside, sat staring out.
“Hey, buddy. Merry Christmas. I wonder what Santa brought you.”
Now wide awake, she sprang from the bed and made a beeline for the bathroom, where she swapped out her pajamas for a pair of black slacks and a sparkly blue blouse she’d found on clearance.
Flying through her morning routine, she returned to her bedroom and unplugged her cell phone from the charger.
Morgan glanced at the screen and found a text from Wyatt.
Merry Christmas. I’m coming home soon. A second text, this one more detailed, explained he’d already talked to Captain Davey.
The fast-moving winter storm had passed, which meant ferry service would start up again as soon as the winds died down.
Morgan promptly replied, I love you too. We had a very interesting Christmas Eve here at Easton Estate. I’ll fill you in later. Tell your family I said Merry Christmas.
Setting the phone back on the nightstand. She called her pup. First things first, she took Chester out for a bathroom break and confirmed what Wyatt had already told her. Instead of whiteout conditions, the clouds had cleared, giving way to bright blue skies.
Back inside, she breezed into the kitchen, where she found Mrs. Arnsby already hard at work. “Good morning, Morgan. Merry Christmas.”
“Merry Christmas to you.” She gave the cook a quick hug. “The storm has passed.”
“Indeed, it has. I spoke to Jax a few minutes ago. The crews are already out in full force, working on restoring the power.”
“That’s wonderful news.” Morgan lowered her voice. “Have you seen Naomi or Prissy yet?”
The cook shook her head. “Nope. Not hide nor hair. I was almost expecting fireworks at some point last night, but I guess the two had enough sense to behave themselves and not risk getting booted out.”
Morgan grinned. “And find themselves sitting in a snowdrift. What about our other guests?”
“Jeff and Tristan? I haven’t seen them yet.
Quinn stopped by to grab a cup of coffee a few minutes ago.
She’s out on the sun porch.” The cook shot a quick glance over her shoulder.
“Brett must’ve told her what was going on.
She has circles under her eyes. I don’t think she got much sleep last night. ”
“I probably wouldn’t have, either.”
“Tristan is such a sweet boy. I hope things work out for him.”
“Me too,” Morgan said. “He seems to love Easton Estate.”
“Jax told me he was so excited to see all the cars and begged him to take him for a ride on the snowmobile. I believe now that the weather is clearing, they’ll probably take one out for a spin later today.”
“I should check on Quinn.” Morgan poured a cup of coffee and trekked into the sunroom, only steps away from the kitchen. She found her friend facing out toward the yard, her back to the door. “Merry Christmas.”
Quinn spun around. “Good morning, Morgan. Merry Christmas. The snow is pretty, isn’t it?”
“It’s beautiful.” Morgan eased into the seat next to her.
“It’s a winter wonderland.” Wall to wall windows gave them an unobstructed view of the trees, blanketed in a thick layer of snow.
The garden area’s park benches were barely visible.
“Mrs. Arnsby mentioned crews were already working on restoring power so we should be back up soon, although I barely noticed last night.”
“Thank God for the generators. Naomi should count her lucky stars Elizabeth invited her here to ride out the storm.”
“Hopefully, this is the beginning of the end of their decades of conflict.”
Quinn chuckled. “You make it sound like a war documentary.”
“Which is basically what it’s been, for decades now.” Morgan picked at a piece of lint on her slacks. “Have you called your parents yet?”
“Yep. As soon as I got up, and wished them a Merry Christmas.” Quinn tucked her legs beneath her. “I’m thinking about taking a quick break and heading back down there with them after their visit ends. The gallery is closed until after the New Year, so I have plenty of time to sneak away.”
“What about your plans for you and Brett to spend time together?”
Quinn cradled her coffee cup. “Everything is up in the air right now. He wants to see what happens with Tristan.”
Morgan hesitated, carefully choosing her words. “I’ll admit I was shocked.”
“I was too, although I knew something was up the minute I met Jeff and Tristan. I knew about Brett’s marriage to Addison, how Rhett was furious, accusing her of being a gold digger and him basically throwing her out.”
“And paying her off. I’m not sure if Brett told you this part, but Addison was afraid that if the family found out about Tristan, they would try to take him from her.”
Quinn wrinkled her nose. “Do you think they would have?”
Morgan pondered the question. It was possible. Anything was possible. She had no idea how her father would have reacted. Maybe he would have tried getting custody, deeming Addison an unfit mother because of her “line of work.” “I honestly don’t know.”
“I wonder what Elizabeth thinks.”
“She’s one hundred percent certain Tristan is Brett’s son. She dug out some old photos of when he was around the same age. Tristan is the spitting image of Brett.”
“I’m wondering if, after confirming he’s Brett's son, she’ll invite him to move to Easton Island and live here,” Quinn said.
“It will be up to Brett to decide. Tristan is in a tricky spot. His mother is gone. His uncle travels a lot,” Morgan said. “I think I heard someone mention that the only family Tristan has is his uncle.”
“Brett planned to talk to him last night. I wonder how it went.”
Elizabeth appeared. “I thought I heard voices. Do you mind if I join you?”
“Not at all.” Morgan sprang to her feet and hurried across the room. “Merry Christmas.”
“Merry Christmas to you. It’s been a rollercoaster these past couple of days.”
“Quinn and I were talking about Tristan and what will happen if we find out he’s Brett’s son.”
“When,” Elizabeth corrected. “I’m certain he is.”
“Would you invite him to move here to Easton Estate?” Quinn asked.
“Of course, as my great-grandson, we would welcome him into our family. Reading between the lines, it appears his uncle is the only person in his life.”
“Meaning no other close family like aunts, uncles or grandparents,” Morgan said.
“Correct.” Elizabeth mentioned Brett had chatted with Tristan the previous night.
“How did it go?”
She tipped her hand back and forth. “It was a guarded conversation, basically small talk about Tristan’s interests.
As Brett mentioned before, he’s hesitant to delve too deeply.
Jeff seems open to the possibility of Tristan moving here but with a caveat: he’s able to visit the boy whenever he wants. ”
“If I were in his shoes, I would want the same. I’m sure Mr. Blakely has done his research and knows a little bit about our family,” Morgan said.
“Without a doubt. Tristan’s welfare is of great importance to him, as it should be,” Elizabeth said. “Addison died almost a month ago. Jeff and Tristan found out about Brett right after her death.”
“So they’ve had time to absorb the news,” Quinn said.
“Correct.” Elizabeth eased into a chair across from Morgan. “Tristan seems to have taken to you.”
“Maybe because we’ve both been in a similar situation, losing our mothers and feeling adrift, although I was a lot older than Tristan when Mom died.”
“Brett mentioned again having you chat with the boy. Of course, not this morning but maybe later today after things settle down and our other houseguests depart.”
“Prissy and Naomi,” Morgan guessed.
“Correct.”
“I’ll be happy to, but I agree it would be best to wait until the others are gone.”
“With Brett’s connections, we’ll have the results within the next 48 hours.”
“So, decisions will have to be made,” Quinn said.
“The sooner the better.”
Quick steps echoed, and Mrs. Arnsby appeared. “Breakfast is almost ready. The estate guests are trickling into the dining room.”
Elizabeth finished her coffee and stood. “We’ll open presents after we eat.”
Morgan ran upstairs to freshen up and by the time she reached the dining room, she found the other guests already seated. “Merry Christmas, everyone.”
“Merry Christmas.”
Breakfast was a lively affair with an array of perfectly prepared dishes—scrambled eggs, crispy bacon, homemade waffles, a bowl of mixed fruit, toast, and even eggs benedict, one of Morgan’s favorite dishes.
Halfway through the meal, the power came back on and everyone cheered loudly.
While they ate, the guests took turns guessing how many feet of snow Easton Island had gotten overnight.
Sledding, snowmobiling and even cross-country skiing were on the table for afternoon activities, except for Mary, Naomi and Prissy, who all planned to leave that morning, insisting they wanted to check on their homes.
After finishing, Morgan and Quinn pitched in to help Mrs. Arnsby clean up, having given the other staff members the day off. Making quick work of the task, they had the kitchen shipshape in no time.
Gathering in the formal living room, Quinn volunteered to wear Santa’s hat and pass out the gifts.
Elizabeth had gone all out, buying presents not only for her grandchildren and staff, but for their unexpected guests.
Candles and spa products for the women and multi-tools along with local gift cards—from Bean Brewing and Danish Delight Bakery—for Tristan’s uncle.
Quinn carried a bulky box over to the boy and set it on the floor in front of him. “This is for you.”
Tristan read the tag aloud, “Merry Christmas. Brett, Elizabeth, Gerard, and Morgan.”
Using both hands, he ripped the paper off and lifted the lid. Inside was a mini drone, along with a sketchpad and colored pencils, a model space shuttle launch kit ready for assembly and some other smaller gifts.
“This is cool.” Tristan’s eyes lit. “How did you know I like to draw and put models together?”
“Your uncle helped pick out your presents,” Elizabeth said. “The drone was a last-minute impulse purchase on my part. Easton Estate has ample wide open spaces for you to practice flying it.”
“Thank you.” Tristan set the box aside and darted across the room. He reached for Elizabeth’s hand but changed his mind and impulsively hugged her. “I’m sorry I didn’t get you anything.”
“It’s all right.” Elizabeth cleared her throat. “I’m glad you like what you got.”
“Can I try flying the drone now?”
“Sure.” Jeff folded the ends of the box. “Let’s put the gifts away first.”
Tristan packed up his treasures. “I’ll take these to my room.”
Jeff lingered, watching his nephew scamper off. “Thank you for making the holiday special for Tristan.”
“You’re welcome.” Elizabeth offered him a small smile. “Brett helped me with the gifts.”
“Tristan’s a good kid,” Brett said. “And you’re a great uncle. Clearly, he loves you.”
“And I love him.” Jeff started to say something and abruptly stopped. Morgan suspected it was because of the others in the room, listening in. “He needs a stable home and family who are around more than me.”
Morgan hurriedly changed the subject. “I don’t know about you, but one of the best Christmas gifts we’ll get is having the power back on.”
“Thank you for the presents. I love them all.” Quinn slowly stood. “Esther and I are heading home to check on our place too.”
“I took a drive into town right before breakfast,” Ben said. “The main roads are clear. It will take a while before the plows get to the side streets. If you stick to the main roads, you should be fine.”
The room emptied until only Prissy, Morgan, and Elizabeth remained.
“Tristan seems like a good kid,” Prissy said.
“He is,” Elizabeth agreed.
“I can’t put my finger on why, but he looks vaguely familiar, like I’ve seen him before. Is he related to you, Morgan?”