Chapter 8
Morgan eased into an empty parking spot in front of the art gallery and shifted into park. “We’re here.”
“Beat you to the door.” Tristan hopped out and sprinted to the curb.
Morgan trailed behind. “I wish I had half your energy.”
“I’m fast.”
“Maybe you should sign up for track.” She dropped her keys into her purse. Not watching where she was going, Morgan took a step forward, nearly colliding with a person moving at a brisk clip and coming from the opposite direction.
“Sorry.” She stumbled back, starting to apologize until she realized who it was—Naomi Renaud.
“Morgan Easton.”
“Hello, Naomi,” she coolly replied. “How are you?”
“Getting ready to head somewhere warmer.” The woman tugged at the collar of her jacket. “I’m tired of the snow and cold.”
“Not me,” Tristan piped up. “I love it.”
Naomi’s eyes narrowed. “I remember you. Tristan…Blakely.”
Her grandmother’s nemesis had met Tristan and his uncle during the Christmas blizzard, when Elizabeth invited the woman, who had lost power and had nowhere to go, to Easton Estate to ride out the storm. At the time, a simple explanation that Jeff and Tristan were friends of Brett’s had sufficed.
As far as Morgan knew, only a few of the islanders, close acquaintances of the family, knew who Tristan was. Naomi wasn’t one of them.
“I’m starting school,” he announced.
She arched her eyebrow, and Morgan could see her struggling to put the pieces together. “At Easton Island’s school?”
“Yep.”
Naomi turned to Morgan. “The boy has moved to Easton Island?”
“He has.”
“Because…”
Morgan clasped her hands. “I don’t think I need to explain why.”
The woman muttered something unintelligible under her breath. “I’m sure I’ll find out soon enough.”
“Have a nice day.” Morgan forced a smile, watching as Naomi spun around and stormed off.
“She’s not very nice,” Tristan said.
“No, she’s not.” Placing a protective arm around his shoulders, she led him toward the gallery. They had almost reached the door when she heard someone calling her name.
Morgan turned to find Priscilla “Prissy” Finkpin, Elizabeth’s sister-in-law, hobbling toward them. “I noticed you talking to Naomi. What did she want?”
“She was being nosy, asking about Tristan.”
“I swear.” Prissy drew an “x” across her chest. “I didn’t tell her.”
“It’s all right. We’re thrilled to have Tristan as part of our family. It’s up to him to decide who he wants to tell,” Morgan said.
“Cuz the kids might not like me,” Tristan said.
Prissy’s brows furrowed. “You mustn’t let one or two rude classmates bother you. Have you met your teacher?”
“Ms. Blanchard.” He nodded.
“She’s an excellent teacher, very personable.” Priscilla pinched her thumb and index fingers together. “Although perhaps a tad strict.”
“She would have to be to teach several grades simultaneously,” Morgan said.
“Are you leaving your grandmother’s gallery?”
“Actually, we were on our way in to see if she has time to have lunch with us.”
“I beat you to it,” Prissy said. “I’ve already invited her to have lunch with me.”
Morgan peered through the window and noticed Elizabeth and Quinn standing at the counter. “Then maybe Quinn would like to have lunch.”
“Or we can all go together.” Priscilla winced, limping slightly as she stepped onto the stoop.
“You’re limping,” Morgan said. “Is your ankle bothering you?”
“My ankle, my arthritis. I’m falling apart. At my age, it seems every day brings a new ache or pain.”
“I’m sorry to hear that.”
Prissy lowered her voice. “I asked your grandmother to have lunch with me because I have something important to discuss with her.”
Morgan detected a hint of worry in her voice and immediately sensed it was something serious. “A problem?”
“Little pitchers…”
“I see.” Morgan nudged her nephew’s arm. “Hey, Tristan, why don’t you let Grandmother know we’re here?”
“Okay.” He yanked the door open and ran inside.
She waited until the door closed. “Is there something wrong?”
“Maybe.” Priscilla’s eyes closed and she swayed slightly.
Morgan reached out to steady her. “Maybe we should sit down.”
“Yes. Perhaps I should.”
Placing a steady arm around her, Morgan helped her into the art gallery. She caught her grandmother’s eye and jerked her head toward Prissy.
Elizabeth rushed over. “Prissy, you’re pale as a ghost.”
“Is she okay?” Tristan asked.
“Would you like a cookie? We have some in the breakroom.” Quinn, quickly assessing the situation, grasped Tristan’s hand. “Let’s go see what we have.”
Elizabeth hurried to Prissy’s other side, gently guiding her to the nearby bench seat. “Are you feeling ill? Should we call an ambulance?”
“I’ll be fine.” Prissy abruptly dropped her purse on the floor. “It’s just a little dizzy spell.”
“It could be your blood pressure,” Morgan said.
“Lawrence will be home later. If I’m still feeling unwell, I’ll have him take me to the medical clinic.”
“Lawrence.” Elizabeth’s brows knitted.
“Your brother.”
“He died years ago.”
“He did not.” Prissy stared at Elizabeth as if she’d lost her marbles.
Morgan’s grandmother lowered onto the seat next to her. “Where is Lawrence?” she asked in a soft voice.
“In Port Huron. He’ll be home later.”
“To your house in town?”
Prissy pursed her lips. “Elizabeth, what are you talking about? Lawrence and I live in the house over by the point. You’ve been there dozens of times.”
“I have.” Elizabeth cleared her throat and slowly stood. “Morgan and I are going to get you some water. Maybe you’re dehydrated.”
“Y-yes,” Morgan stammered. “A glass of ice water.”
Grasping her granddaughter’s arm, Elizabeth propelled Morgan out of the showroom to the breakroom in the back.
Tristan sat at the table with a plate of cookies and a glass of juice in front of him.
“How is Prissy?” Quinn asked.
“Confused. She thinks my brother Lawrence is alive and they still live in a house outside of town that was torn down decades ago.”
Quinn blinked rapidly. “She’s having memory issues.”
Elizabeth cast a worried gaze toward the other room. “I wonder how long this has been going on.”
“She should get checked out,” Morgan said.
“Most definitely.” Elizabeth filled a cup with ice and water and returned to where Prissy sat waiting. “Here’s some water.”
“Thank you.” She daintily sipped it. “I’m feeling better already.”
“Did you drive here?” Morgan asked, growing more alarmed by the minute.
“I did. My car is parked out behind the Easton Harbor Beacon.” Priscilla finished her water and stood. “I think I’ll go home and take a nap.”
“Home out on Gravel Ridge Road?” Elizabeth asked.
“Gravel Ridge?” Prissy made a clicking sound with her teeth. “That house was torn down years ago.”
“What about Lawrence?”
Prissy touched her arm. “Are you feeling all right? Lawrence died a long time ago.”
“I’m feeling fine. You told Morgan and me that Lawrence was in Port Huron and would be home later.”
“I did? Oh, no.” The woman collapsed onto the bench seat. “It’s happening again.”