Chapter 15
First things first, Harlow rode to the fire station. Tracking Caleb down took mere minutes. A firefighter who was in the driveway washing a firetruck personally escorted her to his office.
Caleb didn’t notice her right away, having his back to the door as he stood rummaging through a filing cabinet.
“Hey, boss man. Got a visitor.”
He spun around, his easygoing smile widening when he noticed her standing there. “Hello, pretty lady.”
“Hey, Caleb.” Harlow hovered in the doorway. “Got a minute?”
“Absolutely. C’mon in.”
Caleb’s colleague discreetly slipped away while she made her way inside. “Before I forget, have you gotten anymore anonymous tips about me cutting down trees?”
“Nope. The case is officially closed. Are you working on getting those motion detectors put up?”
“It’s still on my list.”
“Have a seat.”
Harlow perched on the edge of the chair. “I have some bad news.”
“The studio moved your start date up, and you’re leaving sooner than planned,” he guessed.
“No. Remember yesterday when we noticed a bike going by slowly?”
“Yeah.”
“It was a snoopy cameraman. He snapped a photo of us. It’s on the front page of one of the major tabloids.”
“What you’re telling me is that I’m famous,” he joked. “How do I look?”
“Photoshopped, AI’d, or maybe a little of both.” Harlow told him that they had published his name and occupation. “I can show it to you if you’re interested.”
“Sure. I guess I can cross being photographed with a celebrity off my bucket list.” Caleb grew quiet while Harlow pulled up the tabloid story. She clicked on the photo to make it bigger and handed him her phone.
“I gained some weight. My face looks a little off-center and my hair is yellow.”
“At least you don’t look like you just crawled out of bed.”
“You look cute with your hair all mussed up.” Caleb slid his finger over the screen. “According to this story, we’ve been busy.”
“House shopping, shacking up, spending all of our time together.”
“Wow!” He made a choking sound. “This story mentions us hiking the island’s trails. So I guess the path out behind your house is considered a trail.”
“Meaning this person is sneaky enough to stay out of sight yet close enough to spy on me.”
Caleb handed her phone back. “How much do you think this story and fake photo is worth?”
Harlow threw out a random dollar amount.
His jaw dropped. “Are you serious? I need to get a job as a part-time paparazzi.”
“You would never sink that low,” she said. “I’m here to warn you I wasn’t kidding when I said hanging out with me would bring unwanted attention and scrutiny. Unfortunately, this is only the beginning. If you think the photo was bad, it’s guaranteed to get worse. Scandal sells.”
He rubbed the stubble on his chin. “I’m okay with it.”
“You might want to avoid being seen with me, at least for the time being.”
“No.”
“Just flat out no?”
“Not gonna happen. We’re friends. I’m not scared. They can print all the lies they want.”
“You say it now, but these people are ruthless,” Harlow warned.
“If they think there’s even a morsel of truth to us being a couple, your life will be under an intense microscope.
Your past, present job, our previous relationship.
To be honest, I have no doubt reporters are digging stuff up as we speak. ”
“Again…”
She slowly stood, nodding her head toward the outer area of the station where she could hear Caleb’s crew talking and laughing. “Fair enough. I will give you one piece of advice, speaking from experience.”
“Fire away.”
“Talk to your co-workers and anyone you’re in close contact with on a regular basis. Give them a heads-up they might be approached by the nosy news. What you—and they—say can and will be used against you, twisted and distorted beyond belief.”
“I will. Thank you for the warning.” Caleb escorted her out of the building and to her bike. “Before I forget, did the woman you spoke with yesterday ever send over the commercial of Cheyenne?”
“She did.” Harlow tried her darndest to keep a straight face and failed miserably.
“It was bad?”
“Awful,” she said. “I would be shocked if it airs.”
“I’m curious.” He shifted his feet. “What is it about?”
She pursed her lips. “Pharmaceuticals.”
“For prescription drugs?”
“Correct.”
“What kind of prescription drugs? Cheyenne is picky about her appearance. Let me guess…cosmetic enhancements.”
“Not even close.” Harlow struggled to keep from laughing while the visual of Cheyenne bicycling in her revealing attire popped into her head. “It involves the lower extremities, more along the lines of the digestive system.”
“She’s advertising new weight-loss drugs.”
“Not quite. Gastric Flare Syndrome tablets.”
Gastric flare?” Caleb stood there speechless, staring at Harlow.
She patted her backside. “You know…problems down there.”
“I see. So, you think there’s no chance of it being aired on the small screen?”
“I mean, it’s possible but based on several factors including her revealing clothing which, by the way, I’m shocked Robert allowed her to wear, along with her odd actions I’m guessing it’s on the way to the trash bin, if it hasn’t already been scrapped.”
“I was going to say your ex should’ve given her some pointers on how to put her best foot forward but, knowing Cheyenne, she ignored him or threw a temper tantrum until she got her way.”
“Personality traits that will work against her if she’s trying to break into the biz.” Harlow swung her leg over the side of the bike. “If they decide to air it, I’ll let you know.”
“Thanks. By the way, Jim and I had a long talk about his investigation this morning.”
“Did you come up with anything new?”
“No, although he made a comment. It got me to thinking about Lottie.”
“What about her?”
“She does a lot of digging around Wynn Harbor Inn, even finding historical artifacts she’s donated to the fort. I wonder if she’s come across anything that might be a clue.”
“Good point.” Harlow’s gaze was drawn to Fort Mackinac, towering over the downtown, nestled above the trees, the limestone walls running the length of the rocky bluff. “It’s been years since I’ve visited Fort Mackinac.”
“Same.”
A co-worker appeared, letting Caleb know that he had a call. “See you later. Thanks for the warning.”
“You’re welcome.” Cutting through the center of the island, Harlow arrived at British Landing and stopped for a bathroom break before hopping back on her bike.
Lake Shore Road was one of the most scenic roads Harlow had ever been on. The eight-mile state highway looped all the way around the island, skirting the coastline. She loosened the clip on her hair, letting it flow freely in the breeze.
Late April and even into May, the island would slowly wake from its long winter nap. The months of June, July, and August attracted visitors by the boatload, bringing with them the hustle and bustle of the busy summer season.
Harlow hoped by then she would be close to moving into her newly renovated home with all the security features in place to keep her safe.
She rounded a wide bend, and Lighthouse Lane came into view. The construction crew was back at it. Harlow slowed, watching a worker maneuver a dolly cart filled with sheets of drywall through the slider doors, which meant the walls were going up.
Moments later, she arrived back home. Pedaling through Wynn Harbor Inn’s open gate, she started to turn toward the cottage and changed her mind. Veering left, Harlow kept going until she reached the main gardens, the property’s crown jewels, thanks to Lottie’s loving care.
“…sweet dandelion brushed past the bright yellow daffodil,
Bending and swaying on the way to the hill,
Let’s sing about a gentle light rain to water tulip’s red head,
while lazy little daisy falls asleep in the flowerbed.”
Harlow parked her bike and tiptoed closer.
There, surrounded by mounds of dirt and trays of spring flowers, vivid purple petunias, daffodils and daisies, she found Lottie on her knees, spade in hand turning the dirt.
Harlow cleared her throat.
She stopped singing and looked up. “Hello, Harlow.”
“Hey Lottie. Do you need help?”
Using the pinky finger of her glove, she rubbed her forehead, leaving a smudge of black dirt. “I appreciate the offer, but I’m almost done.”
“Almost done planting all those flowers?”
“I won’t be planting them today. It’s too early. They’ll freeze.” She motioned to her gardening cart sitting a few feet away. “I brought all these little beauties out of the potting shed so they could get some fresh air and the first glimpse of their new home.”
“So they’re visiting,” Harlow chuckled.
“Precisely. I find they acclimate better when they’re introduced to the new environment instead of being dumped in the ground.” Letting out a low groan, Lottie slowly stood. “I stopped by the house. Your dad said you left in a big hurry. Is everything okay?”
“Remember me mentioning how I thought a camera guy from one of the trash magazines was hanging around?” She didn’t wait for an answer. “Someone published a hit piece this morning. It included a photo of me looking like I had just crawled out of bed, standing outside Lighthouse Lane.”
“Bummer.”
“I wasn’t alone. Caleb happened to be in the photo. It included a juicy story, most of which isn’t true.” Harlow told her that she’d gone into town to warn him.
“I’m going to take a wild guess and say that he didn’t give two hoots.”
“Nope. Actually, I think he was amused. It’s funny until it’s not.”
Lottie changed the subject. “Guess who I ran into on my way here?”
“Cheyenne.”
“Mmm. Hmm.” She wrinkled her nose. “It took everything I had not to start laughing. Cheyenne made a snide comment and all I could see was her wearing the outlandish outfit humming her creepy tune while the announcer tried to sell us on…what was the name of the product again?”
“Abuttrezil.”
“Abuttrezil,” Lottie repeated it. “I bet she’s driving your ex nuts, asking about the release date.”
“So the world will know she has Gastric Flare Syndrome.” Harlow briefly closed her eyes. “I gotta say, better her than me.”
“You and me both.”
Harlow let Lottie get back to work and finished her ride around the property.
She felt an inkling of sadness when she spotted Happy Camper, looking lonely and forlorn now that Aunt Birdie was gone.
Would her aunt find fulfillment in helping the impoverished Cuban residents?
She hoped so. If anyone could make things happen, it was Harlow’s aunt.
Finishing her ride, she stopped at the gate and let herself in. She strode down the sidewalk to her designated bike spot. Putting the kickstand down, she tested the tire the teen had fixed.
“You did a great job, Arlen.” Harlow patted the seat. “You’re a thoughtful kid who deserves a break. Money doesn’t buy happiness, but it will help one of the good guys get ahead.”