Chapter 3
Harlow dropped her bags in her room and caught up with her father near the front door. Mort, who was determined not to let her out of his sight, nudged his way past them, blocking their exit. “I think it’s safe to say Mort plans to stick by me like glue.”
“He’s gone to your bedroom door every single morning looking for you,” her father said. “Until this morning. He switched places and has been monitoring the front door.”
“Like he already knew I was coming home today,” Harlow fluffed the pup’s ears. “I missed you too, buddy.”
David carried his boots onto the porch. “You’ll need your yard boots. There’s a lot of mud.”
“You mentioned something about the fire investigation.” Harlow, balancing on one foot, slid her free foot into the burgundy sloggers, the ones she’d found in the hall closet tucked away in the back.
All these years, her father had kept not only her garden boots but also Harlow’s hats, gloves, scarves, and jackets. Eryn had jokingly called it the “shrine to Harlow,” the items David had kept stashed, hoping one day his estranged daughter would return home.
She grabbed her medium-weight, not-quite-warm yet not-brutally cold all-weather jacket and fell into step. They plodded across the street with Mort leading the way, not stopping until they reached Wynn Harbor Inn’s main building, or what little of it that was left.
While Harlow’s workers had gutted Lighthouse Lane, renovating it from the inside out, the crew who was working on Wynn Harbor Inn had finally finished dismantling the remnants.
All that remained was a double-sided fieldstone fireplace, the focal point of what had once been one of Mackinac Island’s premier resorts.
Although she knew this was coming, that the crew was scheduled to finish taking down the charred remains, Harlow could feel her throat clog. So many wonderful memories. So much devastating loss.
“It looks…”
“Empty,” David said.
“The final fragments of a sad era in our lives are gone.” Harlow sucked in a breath and dusted her hands. “On the bright side, we’re starting a new chapter. Hopefully, with Caleb’s and the fire investigator’s help, we can finally figure out what happened and have closure about Mom’s death.”
“Speaking of the investigation.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out a plastic baggie. “Caleb and Jim Cook went over every square inch of the property before the site was cleared. They found this in the fireplace.”
Harlow squinted her eyes. “What is it?”
David opened the bag and removed a small chunk of charred metal. “It’s some sort of pin.”
She took it from him, turning it over in her hand. “You said they found it in the fireplace? Was there anything else?”
“Nope. I know it’s in rough shape, but do you recall ever seeing this?”
Harlow absentmindedly rubbed her finger over the top. “No, but a lot of the details are fuzzy, and I’m not sure I would notice a pin. How about you?”
“Same. I went over the guest list, going back two weeks before the fire, to see if anyone came to mind, but nothing.”
“Why would someone throw their pin away in the fireplace?” Harlow handed it back. “It could be a clue, or maybe it’s nothing.”
David reminded his daughter about how Ginger had been working on a project. Although she was normally an early to bed, early to rise person, she’d stayed up late the night of the fire. “I can’t stop thinking about how your mother was still up when I walked by.”
“Working on the project,” Harlow said. “Do you think her staying up late is some sort of a clue?”
“I wish I knew.”
She spun around in a slow circle. “Did you ask Caleb and Cook about the accelerant to find out if they’re certain that someone had used the dryer vent to set the utility room on fire?”
“I did. Both are in agreement they believe this is the case.” David told her Caleb had gone over the original report again but wasn’t able to glean any new clues.
“We have a possible location of where the fire started and a charred pin but nothing else.”
“Correct.” He dropped the pin in the Zip-loc bag and shoved it in his pocket. “I hate to say it, but I’m starting to lose hope we’ll ever figure out the reason behind the fire.”
Harlow touched her father’s arm. “I’m not ready to give up. What about the manager’s unit?”
“Right after it happened and…you left, I salvaged what I could of your mother’s belongings. They’re in a plastic bin in the attic.”
“Have you gone through them?”
“No.” Tears welled up in his eyes. He looked away. “I mean, I kind of sifted through the bin. To be honest, I can’t bring myself to look too closely.”
“I’m sorry, Dad.” Harlow started to say she would go through the contents but thought better of it. She wasn’t ready either. At least not yet. She slipped her arm through his. “Let’s go home.”
Back at the cottage, she made quick work of emptying her suitcase and placing it inside the closet. Mort sat near the door, watching her like a hawk. “I finished unpacking. How about you and I take a nice, long walk?”
The pup scampered to his feet and patiently waited for her to swap out her travel clothes for more appropriate islander attire.
She swung by the kitchen where she found her father seated at the bar, laptop open and staring intently at the screen. “Mort and I are going for a walk. Would you like to come with us?”
He peered at her over the rim of his reading glasses. “Thanks for the offer but I think I’ll pass. Are you going to stop by and say ‘hi’ to Aunt Birdie?”
“Speaking of Aunt Birdie, I noticed she moved out of the cottage.”
“Moved out and back into her RV, Happy Camper.”
Harlow grinned. “She didn’t waste any time.”
“Nope. She skedaddled the day you left for Pittsburgh. Birdie is already planning her next escape.”
“When?”
He waved dismissively. “You’ll have to ask her.”
Harlow turned to go.
David stopped her. “By the way, Morgan and Brett Easton will be here tomorrow to go over the progress.” He dug through the stack of papers sitting on the counter. “There it is.” He held up a copy of Entertainment in the Thumb, a regional travel magazine. “Check out the cover photo.”
Harlow took it from him, studying the photo of her standing on the front porch of Locke Pointe Bed-and-Breakfast, along with Morgan Easton and manager Ronni Lansbury.
She read the caption aloud. Locke Pointe Bed-and-Breakfast—a hangout for locals and stars alike.
“I wonder if it’s helping with bookings. ”
“I don’t know.”
“We should do the same when Wynn Harbor Inn reopens.”
“It couldn’t hurt. You’re welcome to hang around during the Easton’s visit and meeting. Brett’s son, Tristan, will be with them.”
Harlow blinked rapidly. “Brett Easton has a son?”
“One he didn’t know about until December, when the boy and his uncle showed up on Easton Estate’s doorstep,” David said. “He had no idea he had a son until his ex-wife’s death.”
“Wow.” Harlow whistled loudly. “Talk about a shocker. She didn’t live in the area?”
“His ex lived in Las Vegas. According to Brett, the boy is having a rough time. When Tristan found out his dad and aunt were coming here and there was a chance he might meet you, he got excited.”
Harlow pressed her hand to her chest. “How sweet. Of course, I would love to meet him. How old is he?”
“I believe Brett mentioned that he’s ten,” her father said. “Not only is he struggling with his mother’s death, but a few of the kids at school are not particularly warm and welcoming.”
“Because of who he is.” Harlow sucked in a breath. “Can you imagine being that young and not only losing your mom, but having to uproot your life and start all over? You mentioned an uncle.”
“Who loves Tristan but travels frequently for work. The boy seems to be adjusting well to life on Easton Island.” David tipped his hand back and forth. “But school? Not so much, although Brett said he has a few friends.”
“I can’t wait to meet him.” Harlow motioned to Mort, who stood waiting by the door. “Mort’s giving me the look.”
“Speaking of Mort, Morgan’s dog Chester will be with them.”
“The more, the merrier,” Harlow tucked her phone in her pocket. “Before I forget, I’m meeting the Mackies in town for dinner.”
“I figured as much. Lottie will be by for cards and casserole. If you’re stopping at Aunt Birdie’s place, ask her if she wants to join us.”
“Will do.” Harlow gave him a mock salute and slipped out into the crisp afternoon air. Despite the chilly temps, the skies were crystal clear.
Taking the long way around, Harlow and the pup passed the cluster of cottages. Several had sustained damage during the horrific fire and were on the schedule to be renovated. More properties meant more money David could use to pay off the money he had borrowed from the Easton siblings.
Harlow had offered to fund the renovations to which her father had promptly and adamantly refused. He also pointed out it was too late. The contract between the trio was fully executed. She secretly suspected his pride wouldn’t allow him to accept a large sum of money from his daughter.
Because of the layout and by design, everything centered around where the main lodge had sat. The cottages, gardens, tennis courts and private family quarters were tucked along the outer perimeter.
She and Mort reached the path leading to the main road.
Crossing over, they trekked to the dock.
Winnie, her father’s sailboat along with his fishing boat, were both still tarped to protect them from the elements.
But soon David would launch them with plans to take advantage of their water wonderland and summer season for as long as possible.
Mort trotted to the end of the dock. He sank down onto all fours and stuck his chin over the edge, peering into frigid Lake Huron.
“What do you see, buddy?”
The shaggy fur above his eyes lifted and lowered, his attention laser-focused on the water as he searched for fish.
“Dad will take us fishing soon,” she promised. “Wait a few more weeks and we’ll be heading to the honey hole.”
They lingered for long moments as Harlow studied the horizon. Off in the distance she could see the Mighty Mac—Mackinac Bridge or, as she had nicknamed it many moons ago when she was a child, the “Bridge to Home.”
A brisk breeze blew off the water causing her to shiver involuntarily. The main ferry transporting goods to the island chugged toward the mainland. Within weeks, passenger ferries would start their regular daily schedules, bringing tourists and guests from Mackinaw City and St. Ignace.
“C’mon, Mort.” Crossing back over, they stopped by Aunt Birdie’s RV. The place was buttoned up tight with no one around.
Back home, she had enough time to freshen up before biking to town. The friend’s get-together was a casual bring-a-dish-to-pass gathering, but because Harlow had been traveling, her contribution would be whatever she happened to find at the grocery store.
Stepping inside, she grabbed a basket and made a beeline for the deli. Standing off to the side, Harlow texted Peyton who was hosting the event.
Harlow: I’m at the Corner Grocery. What do you want me to bring?
Peyton: You get a pass for being gone. Just bring yourself.
Harlow: I refuse to show up empty-handed.
Peyton: Fine. Bring their smoked fish dip. It’s delish.
Harlow: And some pita chips. SY soon.
She tucked her phone in her jacket pocket and began perusing the prepared foods display. Harlow placed two large dip containers in her basket and went in search of pita crackers. She added a party-size box of her favorites before noticing lemon cream cheese coffee cake bites. “These look yummy.”
The hair on the back of her neck prickled. Harlow sensed someone staring at her, which was a common occurrence. But this felt different. She slowly turned to find Cheyenne Clifton staring…or more like glaring at her.