Easton Island: Son Shine (Easton Island Family Saga #15)

Chapter 1

Morgan coasted to a stop and tapped the horn. Easton Estate’s front door flew open. Tristan Blakely, her new nephew, clad from head to toe in winter gear, from the top of his red and white striped knit cap down to his fur-lined rubber boots, waddled toward her.

Reaching across the seat, Morgan flung the passenger-side door open. “You’re dressed for some winter weather.”

“I told Mrs. Arnsby I was a little cold.” Balancing on one leg, Tristan lifted his foot. “I can hardly walk.”

“You look like Puffy the snowman,” Morgan teased.

“I’m hot.” Tristan set his backpack on the floor and crawled onto the seat. “Can we please roll the windows down?”

Morgan hit the button and lowered the windows to let fresh air in. “I have to admit, your snow pants look a little bulky.” A sudden thought popped into her head. “But I’m glad you have them because I have a surprise for you.”

The boy promptly wiggled out of the cumbersome boots. The snow pants weren’t far behind. He slid his jacket off and set the knit cap on top. “Now I’m not so hot.”

“Good, because it will get really cold, really fast if I leave the windows down.” As soon as Tristan buckled up, she swung her SUV around and headed down the driveway. “I’m sorry Brett had to postpone your fishing trip today. I know how much you were looking forward to it.”

“He said he won’t be gone too long, and as soon as he gets back, we’ll go.”

“I’m sure you will. I know he felt terrible about breaking his promise.”

“It’s okay. Uncle Jeff has stuff like that happen too.” Tristan brightened. “I talked to my uncle this morning on the phone.”

“How is he?”

“Still traveling. He’s gonna be back in a week or so to see me.”

“I bet you miss him,” Morgan said.

Tristan thought about it. “Yeah, but he was gone a lot, so I’m used to taking care of myself.”

“But not anymore.” Her newly found nephew had been through a lot the past few months, including losing his mother.

The man he’d looked up to as a father figure had walked out of his life.

Finding out Brett, his real father was alive, moving from Nevada to Easton Island and, to top it all off, adjusting to a completely unfamiliar environment.

“Are you ready to start school?”

“Kinda.”

“Why only kinda?” Morgan stopped at the bottom of Dead Man’s Drop, checking for traffic before making her turn.

“What if the other kids don’t like me?”

Her heart plummeted, noting the anxious look on the boy’s face. “Why wouldn’t they like you?” she asked softly.

“Because I’m different.”

“Different is good.”

“Jax said lots of the kids on the island hunt and fish.”

“You can learn, and maybe even teach them a thing or two,” Morgan said.

“Like what?”

“What do your friends back in Nevada do?”

He shrugged. “Some of them go camping in the desert, but we never went. Mom didn’t like being outdoors too much.”

“Brett will be back to take you ice fishing so you can check that off your list.”

“What about hunting?”

“Unfortunately, you missed hunting season, but there’s always next fall.

I’m going to bet that a year from now you’ll be an old pro at hunting, fishing, skiing, maybe even snowmobiling.

In the summer you can go hiking, kayaking, and canoeing.

Easton Estate has all kinds of cool stuff for you to do. ”

“But who will go with me?”

“I will, and so will Brett. Besides, something tells me you won’t have any trouble making friends.” She turned into the Locke Pointe Bed-and-Breakfast’s parking lot and shifted into park.

Hopping out of the driver’s side, she met Tristan near the front. “Don’t forget your snow pants.”

He ran back to the SUV and grabbed them. “Maybe we could build a snowman.”

“We could.” Morgan flung her arm around his shoulders. “I learned how to build one last year. I’m no expert, but I think between the two of us we’ll give Frosty a run for his money.”

They reached the porch and found her pup’s furry little face pressed against the storm door, his tail wagging ninety miles an hour.

Tristan spotted the pup and clambered up the steps to let him out. Chester danced in circles while the boy petted him, ruffling his ears. “Chester missed me.”

“He sure did,” Morgan said, ushering them inside. First things first, they slid their boots off and placed them in the bin before traipsing down the hall to the kitchen to let Tina, Locke Pointe Bed-and-Breakfast’s cook, know they were there.

Their next stop was the office. “I have a few quick things to take care of and then we can head outdoors,” Morgan said.

“Okay.” Tristan wandered around the office, studying several works of art hanging on the walls. It was an eclectic collection. Her grandmother, Elizabeth, had given her some of the pieces. Others were gifts from her best friend Quinn. The rest had belonged to Laura Locke Easton, Morgan’s mother.

While Tristan patiently waited, she sorted through her emails, approved a handful of expenses and finally turned the computer off.

Her nephew was no longer roaming around. Instead, she found him sprawled out in a wingback chair, his feet dangling over the side with the upper half of his body wedged into the cushions. He held a book in his hand, quietly turning the pages.

“What did you find?”

He flipped it over so she could see the cover. “Learning how to draw.”

“I’m not sure where the book came from. It probably belonged to my mom. Would you like to borrow it?”

His eyes lit. “Can I?”

“For as long as you like.”

“Thanks, Aunt Morgan. I’ll take good care of it,” he promised.

“I’m sure you will.” She motioned to the jacket, hat and gloves he had dropped by the door on his way in. “Are you ready to head outside?”

“Yeah.” Tristan closed the book and set it on the table. “I’ll leave this here. Don’t let me forget it.”

“I won’t.” Morgan tracked down her ski pants, scarf and ski gloves and joined Tristan, who was already suited up.

Chester took the lead. Down the steps and through the yard they traipsed, sticking to the path Greg had cleared from the main building all the way to the carriage house.

Tristan followed his aunt inside. “You have lots of stuff in here.”

He was right. Greg, the bed-and-breakfast’s handyman, kept the storage building tidy and organized. Crossbows, snowblowers, gardening wagons, toolboxes and workbenches filled the space.

It took a minute for Morgan to find what she was looking for. “There they are.” She crossed the room and lifted a wooden sled from the hook. “Can you take this?”

“Sure.” Tristan grabbed hold of the sled. “We’re going sledding?”

“We are. One for you…” Morgan plucked the second sled from the hook. “And one for me.”

“I’ve never been sledding before.”

“This will only be my second time,” she said. “The sleds belong to Greg. I’m sure he won’t mind if we borrow them.”

Exiting the carriage house, Morgan set hers on the snow. Tristan did the same.

Woof. Chester zoomed back and forth, barking loudly.

“Chester wants a ride. Can I put him on my sled?”

“Sure.”

The boy promptly scooped the pup up and carefully set him on top. Grabbing hold of the ropes, Morgan and her nephew trudged through the freshly fallen snow, making their way across the yard to the hill perched high above Lake Huron.

They reached the top and stopped. “This is it.”

“Whoa.” Tristan’s eyes grew round as saucers. “We’re going down this hill?”

“We are.”

“What if I can’t stop when I get to the bottom?”

Morgan lowered onto her sled and showed Tristan how to steer it. “The rope steers the sled. Pull it this way to go right and the opposite way to go left. If you feel you’re going too fast, throw your foot over the side and drag your boot in the snow to slow down.”

“Drag my foot,” Tristan repeated.

“Correct.”

A flicker of uncertainty flitted across his face. “Um…maybe you can show me first.”

Morgan shifted her gaze toward the bottom of the hill. Standing at the top, it appeared steeper than it had when she, Greg and Quinn had raced to the bottom. “It does seem steeper than I remember.”

Tristan’s shoulders slumped. “You don’t want to go sledding now?”

Noting the look of disappointment on his face and knowing there was no way she was going to let her nephew down by chickening out, Morgan squared her shoulders.

She silently reminded herself that her number one goal from the day she found out Brett had a son was to become the coolest aunt on the planet. One way or another, she was sledding down the hill.