Chapter 7
Harlow stood at the end of the driveway, her breath catching in her throat as she gazed at Lighthouse Lane. Despite the dumpsters and work trailers, she envisioned the end result—her cozy stone cottage being brought back to life, waiting for her to step inside and start making memories.
She’d initially planned to add privacy and security fences on the side facing the road until realizing it would partially block her view of the lake and lighthouse, at least from the first floor.
She couldn’t bear the thought of ruining the main reason she’d been drawn to the cottage in the first place… the spectacular view.
The clip-clop of horses’ hooves caught her ear. Harlow watched as an island taxi stopped in front of her driveway. The Mackies, right on time, climbed out.
“Thanks for the ride.” Eryn tipped the driver and reminded him to swing back by to pick them up.
Abby darted over and hugged Harlow. “Can you believe it? You’re a bona fide Mackinac Island property owner.”
“I know it doesn’t look like much, but it’s all mine,” Harlow beamed.
“Have you gone inside?” Meg asked.
“Not yet. I was trying to make a mental list of everything I’ll need to do to keep tourists and paparazzi away without ruining my view by putting up an ugly fence.”
“Lots of alarms,” Peyton said.
“And a gun,” Noelle added.
“What about a guard dog?” Eryn suggested.
“A guard dog?”
“A trained German Shepherd would be enough to scare off even the nosiest of news people,” Abby said.
Harlow warmed to the idea. “I was thinking about getting a dog. Why not get one who can keep me company and protect me?”
Meg snapped her fingers. “Problem solved.”
Harlow led them down the driveway and climbed the flagstone steps. Using the temporary “construction key,” she unlocked the door and welcomed her friends inside to a big, blank open space.
The walls were gone. The ceiling panels had been removed, revealing exposed beams and timbers. From the doorway, Harlow could see all the way into the kitchen, or at least the space it had once occupied.
Eryn whistled loudly. “Talk about a blank slate.”
Noelle crept forward, her eyes drawn to the second-story balcony. “Wide open. I guess the construction crew will start putting it back together now.”
“Piece by piece. Seeing how the structure and utilities are already in place, the general contractor promised it wouldn’t take long once the old stuff was torn out.
” Harlow led the Mackies inside, sharing her vision and plans for her home.
They toured the lower level before climbing the stairs to the second floor, where the owner’s suite with a massive walk-in closet and connected bath was located.
“I know I said it before, but this is a million dollar view.”
Harlow stood next to Peyton, in front of the newly installed shatterproof French doors. “Did I mention I’m extending the balcony all the way around? I can already envision myself savoring my morning coffee or sipping afternoon tea, not to mention celebrating the sunsets.”
“West side is best,” Noelle quipped. “You have it all—a view of the lighthouse, the Mighty Mac, and the sunsets.”
“I’m so looking forward to it,” Harlow said wistfully. “The good news is that the upcoming movie project will keep me distracted while I wait.”
Eryn stood at the side window, bouncing on the tips of her toes. “I can see the trail from here. We should check it out.”
“I’m curious about this mystical, magical trail you keep mentioning.” Meg lifted her hiking boot. “I came prepared to tromp through the woods.”
“I haven’t been back there since Eryn and I cross-country skied,” Harlow said. “I could stand to burn off a few of those Michigan treasure cookies I ate earlier.”
“You made them?” Abby asked.
“Morgan and Brett Easton met with Dad to go over the project. I figured I would show off my limited culinary abilities.” Harlow told them how she’d burned the first batch. “The second batch was yummy, thank goodness.”
“How is the Wynn Harbor Inn project going?” Noelle trailed behind the others, down the stairs and to the main floor.
“The old lodge has been leveled. The workers are gearing up to start reconstruction.” Harlow almost mentioned the Eastons’ offer but kept quiet. The decision sat squarely on her father’s shoulders, and the last thing she wanted to do was crank up the island’s rumor mill.
On their way out, Harlow showed them the stakes where her brand spanking new garage would be built, tucked among the thick row of towering pines and almost invisible from the road.
Despite the add-on, Lighthouse Lane’s large lot left ample space for her to build an additional patio out behind the house, to carve out a spot for a firepit where friends and family could gather yet also leave enough space for her future dog to play.
Through the yard and down the narrow dirt path the Mackies trekked. Still early spring, the maple trees were just starting to bud, allowing them a partial view of the woods.
Peyton warily eyed the thick forest. “You’ll want to make sure you put cameras on the backside of the house.”
“It will be a little creepy out here after dark,” Harlow admitted.
The path curved, leading to a gentle incline. The Mackies stopped when they reached a red flag stake.
“This is the property line,” she said. “I’ll probably need to add a private property sign so that anyone who hikes the trail knows where it ends.”
Retracing their path, the women returned to Lighthouse Lane and gathered in the driveway.
“Thanks for the tour,” Meg said.
“Are you planning an open house?” Noelle asked.
“Absolutely. An open house, a slumber party, a campout under the stars, you name it.”
“I already have a housewarming gift picked out,” Eryn said.
“Me too,” Peyton chimed in.
The taxi that had dropped the women off returned.
“I see our ride back into town.” Noelle hugged Harlow. “Thanks for the sneak peek. I think it’s safe to say us Mackies are equally excited that it’s official. Harlow Wynn is here to stay.”
“Forever, hopefully.”
“We won’t let you leave.” Peyton hugged her. “Once you’re a member of the Mackies, it’s for life.”
“Thanks for coming by.”
“It will be a beautiful home,” Meg sighed.
“One I plan to share with all of you.” Harlow could feel sudden tears burn the back of her eyes, reminding her once again how her car crash had started out as one of the most frightening things that had happened to her but became one of her biggest blessings.
The Mackies piled into the wagon. With cheery waves goodbye her friends were gone.
Harlow, eager to take another look around, turned toward the house when she heard an engine revving, a rarity on an island that banned everything but emergency vehicles.
Curious to find out who it was, she stopped, watching as an official island truck slowed before pulling into the driveway. Harlow’s heart skipped a beat when she spotted Caleb Jackson, her high school sweetheart who also happened to be the island’s fire chief, climb out. “Hello, Harlow.”
“Hey, Caleb.” She couldn’t help but notice he’d cut his hair. Not short, but in a way that made the wisps caress his neck.
“I heard you were back in town. Did you get my text message?”
“No.” Harlow pulled her phone from her pocket, noticing she’d missed a message. “The Mackies just left. I gave them a tour of the place.”
“How’s it going?” He motioned to the cottage.
“It’s nothing but bare walls. Would you like to see the inside?”
“Actually, I’m here on official business.”
“Official business?” she echoed.
Caleb handed her a folded sheet of paper. “The city received a complaint about the jobsite, specifically mentioning the destruction of state property.”