Chapter 4
Brett shifted his car into park and turned to his son. “You’re feeling better today?”
“Yep.”
“No more stomachaches?”
Tristan shook his head. “Mrs. Arnsby let me have ice cream for breakfast.”
“Ice cream?” Brett chuckled.
“She said it settles your stomach.” The boy lifted his backpack. “Are you picking me up after school?”
“I have a conference call. Aunt Morgan will be here waiting for you, if that’s okay.”
“Yeah. She’s skibidi.”
“Skibidi?”
“You know…cool.” Tristan reached for the door handle. Brett stopped him. “She mentioned a couple of older kids making faces at you yesterday morning. Do you know who they were?”
“No.”
“Are they picking on you?”
The boy shrugged. “Sometimes. I don’t think they like the Eastons.”
“Unfortunately, there are a few people on the island who aren’t fans of ours.”
Tristan thought about it for a minute. “Why not?”
“Because we have things they don’t. Some people think we have too much control over what happens on Easton Island.”
“Plus, the name. I’ve never known anyone who had an island named after them.” Tristan grew quiet for a second. “Do you have a lot of money?”
“It depends on what you consider a lot. Our family has more than some people but a lot less than others, say, for example, Elon Musk.”
“Because you would be the richest person on the planet.”
“What do you do when those older kids pick on you?”
“Ignore them. I have friends, so it’s okay.”
He nudged his son’s shoulder. “If it ever gets to the point where they’re threatening you or you get scared, go to the teacher or the office and tell them what’s going on.”
A boy and girl, fifteen-ish if Brett had to guess, tromped past his car.
“That’s them.”
Brett thought about jumping out and confronting them, but suspected it would only make matters worse for Tristan. Instead, he watched them turn and walk into the school, giving him a side profile view. “Remember what I said.”
“I will.” Tristan flung the door open and hopped out. “Thanks for the ride.”
“You’re welcome.” Brett’s eyes followed his son down the sidewalk and into the building. He wished more than anything that he could protect Tristan from the haters of the world. Unfortunately, they would thread their way through his life, even into adulthood, just because of who he was.
*****
“Brett should be here soon.” Morgan turned away from the café window, giving her grandmother her full attention. “How is Prissy?”
Elizabeth tipped her hand back and forth. “As you know, the geriatrician has met with her a couple of times. I make a point to check on her at least twice a week. She’s becoming more forgetful but trying to hide it.”
“Meaning she knows she’s on the decline and is afraid of losing her independence, so you might not be getting the full picture of what’s going on with her mental health.”
“Precisely. She’s planning to meet me at the art gallery after we eat. I thought if we met face to face, I could better gauge her current state.”
“I think this is a great idea.” Morgan changed the subject. “I wonder if Brett being late is a good sign or a bad sign.”
“It’s possible he confronted Tristan’s taunters and put them in their place.” Elizabeth sipped her coffee. “Kids can be cruel.”
“Even more so if you have a target on your back.”
“Being an Easton has its advantages, but also more than its share of disadvantages.”
“At least Tristan has friends. I hope the taunting doesn’t escalate,” Morgan said.
“Rest assured, if Brett catches wind, he will nip it in the bud.” Her grandmother stared out the window. “I see him coming now.”
The women watched as Brett pulled into the empty parking spot next to Morgan’s vehicle. He caught their eye on the way past the window, giving a quick wave as he strolled into the restaurant. “I hope I didn’t keep you waiting.”
“Not at all.” Elizabeth patted an empty chair. “Morgan and I were wondering how it went this morning.”
The server arrived and took their order.
Brett waited until she left. “Okay. Tristan and I chatted.”
“Did you see the kids who made the pig faces?”
“They walked by my car while we were talking. Tristan pointed them out.” Brett told them they didn’t look their way. “I’m sure they didn’t recognize the vehicle.”
“True,” Morgan said. “Were you able to get a good look at them?”
“Although I only got a side profile as they walked inside, I saw enough that I’m sure I would recognize them if I ran into them.”
“And Tristan?” Elizabeth prompted. “How is he handling being picked on?”
“As good as can be expected. The fact of the matter is he’s an Easton. We all know a fair share of islanders are not fans. On some level, he’ll have to deal with this as long as he lives here,” Brett said. “He wanted to know why some people didn’t like us. I tried explaining it the best I could.”
“Do you still need me to pick him up after school?” Morgan asked.
“If you don’t mind. I have a few errands to take care of and am not sure how long it will take.”
“No problem. Consider it done.”
A slow smile spread across Brett’s face. “He says that you're skibidi.”
Elizabeth pressed her hand to her chest. “What is a skibidi?”
“According to Tristan, it means cool.”
Morgan chuckled. “I like being a cool aunt. He’s pretty skibidi too.”
Their food arrived, and the conversation shifted to Easton Holdings projects and Wynn Harbor Inn, a project Brett and Morgan were involved in with owner David Wynn, the father of megastar actress Harlow Wynn.
The siblings, along with Tristan and Chester, had recently visited Mackinac Island to get an update. While there, they chatted with the woman, who happened to be between filming projects.
“Have you heard from David about whether he’s interested in forming a permanent partnership?” Morgan asked.
“Not yet. I’ll touch base with him this week,” her brother promised.
“So, Grandmother.” Brett patted Elizabeth’s hand. “How long are you in town before you jet back to Toronto with Gerard?”
“I will be here for a couple of days. As I was telling Morgan, I’m meeting with Priscilla to try to gauge how she’s doing. She’s been vague with me over the phone. I suspect I’m not getting the entire picture.”
“You have a sharp eye. I’m sure you’ll be able to tell right away if she’s continuing to decline.”
The meal ended, and Brett left first.
Morgan and Elizabeth lingered, finishing their coffee. “Before I forget, the PI sent me an update on Jason.”
“Is he still in Florida?”
“He is. You’ll never guess what he’s doing, or should I say training for.”
“To become a zookeeper,” Elizabeth joked.
“Nope.”
“He’s returning to the healthcare field.”
Morgan coughed loudly. “No one in their right mind would hire a man who stole a pharmaceutical company’s drugs and trafficked them.”
“I give up.”
Tapping her phone’s screen, Morgan accessed her emails and pulled up the photo the PI had sent her. She handed it to her grandmother.
Elizabeth slipped her reading glasses on. “He’s training to be a pilot?”
“It appears so. I had Denver check it out.” Morgan filled her in on the details, basically the timeline of when her ex had enrolled and how long it would be before he received his certification, assuming he passed the tests.
“So many questions.”
“What he plans to do with a pilot’s license for starters.”
Elizabeth handed her phone back. “I think more than anything, not knowing what Jason is up to or has planned is what worries me most.”
“Me too.” Morgan thanked her grandmother for breakfast and grabbed her purse. “I’m heading over to the B&B to cover while Ronni’s gone.”
“Have you found out where Jax took her?”
“No. In fact, she promised to send me a picture. She must be having so much fun she forgot.” Morgan trailed behind her grandmother, following her out of the café and onto the sidewalk.
She noticed a familiar vehicle parked next to Burnie, her grandmother’s burnt orange tank of a car. “Prissy parked next to you.”
Elizabeth craned her neck. “You’re right.”
The women stepped off the curb and approached the driver’s side window.
Morgan squinted her eyes. “What is Prissy doing?”
“I-I don’t know,” Elizabeth said. “She appears to be asleep at the wheel.”