Chapter 17
Harlow woke early the next morning after another rough night. She tossed and turned, mulling over the stupid story and faux photo of her and Caleb. To her credit, she’d wisely decided not to search for her name again, certain there were more stories, more lies, more photoshopped photos.
When she wasn’t thinking about the smear, she rehearsed what she would say to Arlen, wondering how he would react to her generous gift. Hopefully, he would accept it in the spirit it was given.
Her father was already up and seated at the bar, newspaper laid out on the counter as he perused the classified ads.
She gave him a quick hug before traipsing across the kitchen and pouring a cup of coffee. “Any word from Aunt Birdie?”
“She texted a picture of her and her friend last night, standing in their hotel room.”
“How was it?”
“It looked clean.”
“She has internet, at least for the time being.”
“Yep.” David sipped his coffee, eyeing his daughter over the rim of the cup. “Are you excited?”
“About surprising Arlen? I can hardly wait.”
“That boy will be bouncing off the walls,” he predicted.
“He seemed pretty geeked about having breakfast with me.”
“Maybe you should warn him he might end up in the news.”
“They would have to dig deep to come up with a story about me and Arlen.” Harlow eyed her father thoughtfully. “I need to add a few more cameras and motion lights on the back of Lighthouse Lane.”
“You want me to put some up?”
“If you don’t mind. I could hire one of the workers, but I hate to bother them.”
“I would love to help.” David slid off the barstool and refilled his cup. “Old Mort and I will take care of it today.”
“Thanks, Dad.”
“Lottie’s been hard at work getting the gardens in shape. I might be able to convince her to take a break and go with me. She can hold the ladder.”
“I ran into her yesterday singing to the flowers who were visiting from the garden shed.”
“I’m not surprised.” David rolled his eyes. “It must work. She has the greenest thumb I’ve ever seen.”
“Lottie’s the best.”
“She is.” Harlow plucked a piece of lint from her sleeve. “Are you two ever going to commit?”
David, who had taken a sip of coffee, began coughing loudly. “Commit?”
“You know.” She hummed the intro to the wedding march. “Make it official.”
“We’re perfectly content with things the way they are. Why ruin it with a ceremony?”
Harlow arched her eyebrows, pinning her father with a stare. “Ruining your relationship?”
“You’re not in any hurry to date again,” David pointed out.
“True, but the ink is barely dry on my divorce. I better go get ready.” Harlow topped off her coffee cup and playfully punched her dad in the arm as she waltzed past. “It was a silly question.”
On her way to the shower, Harlow checked her cell phone to make sure Arlen hadn’t texted, backing out. No new messages meant the coast was clear and their breakfast date was a go.
Using her favorite white gardenia all-natural hair shampoo, she slathered on a generous amount, working it into a halo of bubbles. She thought about her father and Lottie, how compatible they seemed in some ways, yet complete opposites in others.
It reminded her of her mother, and a twinge of sadness crept in. Figuring out how Wynn Harbor Inn’s fire had started was at a standstill. Soon, any evidence would be cemented over. Was the charred pin a clue? Maybe. Maybe not.
Still, Harlow couldn’t shake the feeling that clues were waiting to be uncovered.
A sudden thought popped into her head, something Wyatt had mentioned.
Lottie’s big, beautiful flower beds surrounded most of the structures—the main lodge, the cottages, dotting the landscape.
Had she, in her digging and planting, stumbled upon a clue without realizing it?
Making a mental note to ask her, she finished showering, pulled on a pair of her favorite yoga pants, an oversized sweater and running shoes.
She checked her bag to make sure the gift card and paperwork she’d printed off the previous night were inside.
By the time she finished getting ready, she found the kitchen empty. A note from her father sat on the counter, letting her know he and Mort were down at the harbor, doing maintenance on Winnie, his sailboat.
Harlow grabbed her jacket on the way out the door. Tracking down her bike, she guided it along the path and to the main road. She tested the tires, thrilled to discover the front one was still full of air and no longer squishy.
After checking for traffic, she cruised toward town. Although the morning air was chilly, the sun shone brightly, warming her hands and face.
Through the trees, she glimpsed the Mighty Mac off in the distance. Light traffic enabled her to reach downtown a short time later. Harlow, discovering she was early, circled the main drag, passing by the bars, shops, and stores.
Perched atop the hill, Fort Mackinac kept watch over the harbor, as it had for generations. Making a left turn, Harlow passed by the Trinity Episcopal Church, a popular wedding destination dating back to the late 1800s.
The clippety-clop of horses’ hooves grew louder. Harlow eased off to the side to let the dray, a wagon filled with boxes, cartons and crates, pass by. She gave the driver a friendly wave before continuing on her way.
With one final turn, she reached the diner. She parked her bike in the rack and climbed the steps.
Harlow scanned the dining room, searching for her breakfast date. She found Arlen at a table in the corner. He caught her eye and lifted his hand, a big smile on his face.
Zigzagging past the tables, she made her way over. “I hope I didn’t keep you.”
“N-no. I just got here. Is this table okay? Because we can move.”
“This is perfect.” Harlow slipped her jacket off and hung it on the back of her chair before placing her sling bag on the seat next to her. “Did you check out the breakfast buffet?”
“Yeah. I’ve never eaten breakfast here before but I heard they have good food.”
“Very good.” Harlow tapped the top of a menu sitting in the center of the table, sandwiched in between the napkin dispenser and salt and pepper shakers. “Breakfast is on me. Order whatever you like.”
“What are you having?”
“The breakfast buffet and coffee.”
Their server arrived. “Good morning, Harlow.” She set a glass of water in front of Arlen. “Hello, Arlen.”
“Hi, Sue.”
“How’s your Uncle Joe?”
“He…he’s good. I’m supposed to be working right now but Harlow invited me to breakfast.”
“How nice of her.”
“Arlen fixed my bike tire. He wouldn’t let me pay, so this is my way of thanking him.”
“He’s done the same for me. Joe’s lucky to have such a hard-working young man running his bike shop.” Sue tucked the empty tray under her arm. “What can I get you to drink?”
“I’ll have coffee.”
“W-water is okay,” Arlen said.
“You don’t want juice or hot chocolate?” Harlow asked.
“I…okay. I like orange juice.”
“One OJ and one coffee coming right up.” Sue clicked the end of her pen. “Do you need time to look at the menu?”
“I’m having the breakfast buffet,” Harlow said.
“Same for me.”
“You’re making this too easy.” Sue told them they would find plates at the buffet and left, promising to return shortly with their drinks.
Harlow shoved her chair back. “Let’s go grab some grub.”
“I’m hungry.”
“Me too.” She plucked a clean plate from the stack. Working her way to the end, she splurged, filling it with a ham and cheese omelet, hash browns, a small pile of bacon, and toast, before sliding a scoop of sliced fruit onto the only empty spot she had left.
She returned to the table to wait for Arlen. He spent several long moments circling the buffet until finally joining her. He set his plate in front of him, heaped high with food. A second plate, this one with a stack of pancakes, joined the first.
“You weren’t kidding when you said you were hungry,” she teased.
His face turned bright red, and she immediately regretted her comment. “I took a little of everything.”
“Good for you. I might go back for seconds,” she whispered conspiratorially.
“I-I might too, but maybe not. This is a lot of food.”
“Thank you for meeting me for breakfast and for fixing my bike tire. It’s like new.”
“You’re welcome.” Arlen placed his napkin on his lap and hesitated.
“Everything looks yummy. I don’t know what to try first.” Harlow broke off a piece of bacon and set it on top of a slice of wheat toast. She folded it in half and took a big bite.
He must’ve been waiting for her to make the first move, because as soon as she began eating, he poured a generous amount of syrup on his plate of pancakes and dug in.
Harlow kept the conversation light, asking about school, his favorite subject, what Arlen liked best about his job at the bike shop. He politely answered each question, and the longer they chatted, she could see him start to relax, his shoulders no longer rigid.
Sue returned to refill their coffee and juice halfway through. “How’s the food?”
“Delicious,” Arlen said. “I tried a little of everything.”
“Good for you. I like to see a hearty appetite.” She refilled Harlow’s empty cup. “We have a fresh batch of chocolate-covered donuts. Would you like one?”
“I-I love donuts, but I’m stuffed.”
“Ditto,” Harlow said. “Although I am tempted.”
“I’ll bring the check.” Sue took off, returning a short time later with the bill and two baked goods boxes. “I packed a few donuts to munch on later.”
“Thank you.” Harlow set her credit card on top of the bill.
Using a handheld ecard device, Sue completed the transaction and handed her the receipt. After she left, Arlen made a move to get up.
Harlow stopped him. “Before you go, I have something for you.”
“For me?”
She reached into her sling bag and removed the envelope, silently praying the teen would accept the gift that would open doors and set her young friend on the path to a bright future.