Chapter 22
As soon as Morgan left, Quinn dialed Brett’s number. It rang…and rang. She suspected he was either working or still ticked off at her. Not that she could blame him. She had become defensive about Travis Mason, but not because she felt guilt-ridden or had something to hide.
It was more the fact that her last serious boyfriend, a jealous jerk, had accused Quinn of cheating on him, something she would never do.
The conversation—or argument—with Brett had hit a nerve, causing a tidal wave of emotions to come flooding back. Was she friendly with Travis? Yes, but only because he seemed like a nice guy who was new to the island and didn’t know anyone.
In hindsight, telltale signs of his real motive were there, staring her straight in the face. The man had been curious about the Easton family, and when he found out she was dating Brett, he seemed even more intrigued.
In her defense, customers often stopped by simply because they knew Elizabeth owned the gallery. Having an island named after the Easton family piqued people’s interest.
Travis was easy to talk to, friendly and approachable. A smooth talker. Had Quinn inadvertently or casually given him information about the family she shouldn’t have?
She racked her brain trying to think, but couldn’t come up with a single instance where she’d spoken negatively about any of them. Elizabeth was like a grandmother. Morgan was her best friend, and of course there was Brett. She would never say anything disloyal or disrespectful.
Quinn was about to give up on reaching Brett when he answered, his tone not angry, but neutral. Calm, cool, and collected. “Hello, Quinn.”
“Hey, Brett. I…uh…do you have a minute?”
“Sure. What’s up?”
“I want to apologize about earlier. I overreacted.”
“Apology accepted.”
“Really?”
“Yes.”
“Okay.”
“Is that all?”
“I suppose. You sound distracted.”
“I have a lot on my mind.”
Quinn absentmindedly ran her hand along the counter. “I won’t keep you,” she said in a quiet voice. She started to say goodbye.
Brett stopped her. “Don’t go. I’m being cranky.”
Despite the seriousness of the situation, she laughed. “You get a free pass. It’s been an off weekend.”
“Between Tristan getting picked on by the Renaud duo and arguing this morning, I’m ready for a new week.”
“Would your weekend improve if I invited you to dinner at my place?”
“It depends on what you’re making,” he joked.
“Brett Easton,” she gasped. “Have I ever fixed a bad meal?”
“I’m kidding. You’re a great cook. I accept. What time?”
“How does six sound? I’m working until five.”
“Perfect. I’ll be returning to Toronto in the morning. It will give me time to get organized.”
“See you later. Love you,” Quinn said.
“I love you too. And Quinn?”
“Yeah?”
“I appreciate the apology. It means a lot.”
“I meant every word of it.”
The call ended, and Quinn began jotting down a menu. Pasta was quick and easy. Throw in grilled chicken and broccoli, accompanied by a loaf of garlic bread, tossed salad, and she had an easy, delicious meal for two.
Humming under her breath, she finished the list and put it in the side pocket of her purse.
A customer arrived to pick up an order, and then a couple stopped by—window shoppers who weren’t looking for anything in particular and mentioned they were staying at the Lilac Inn for an extended weekend getaway.
They left, and the gallery grew quiet again.
She began pricing several art pieces and finished by mid-afternoon.
Thinking now would be the perfect time to do a little digging around, Quinn turned her laptop on and typed Sunrise Shores Resort & Spa, Easton Island in the search bar.
The website Morgan had shown her earlier appeared.
Working her way through the tabs, Quinn discovered from a news blurb that the property was purchased via a real estate investment group and Travis Mason was handling the project. At the bottom of the page, in small print and almost as an afterthought, she noticed a clickable link: About us.
A mixture of men and women, professional photos and highlights about their backgrounds appeared. She found Travis’s near the middle and skimmed his credentials.
He had previously resided in San Diego. At least he hadn’t lied about where he’d lived.
College graduate. Several years working for investment companies until hiring on for the Easton Island project a few months back.
There was no mention of him being a teacher, although he may have left that out considering it wasn’t relevant to his current career.
Scrolling back to the top, she found another link and a more detailed description of the project. Morgan had hit the nail on the head. The planned resort and spa encompassed acres of pristine property on the east side of Easton Island.
Restaurants, fitness facilities, full-service spa. They even planned a marina. By all accounts, the resort would be a high-end, big-money project. It was good news for Easton Harbor’s and Locke Village’s businesses. But for a bed-and-breakfast and a cozy inn? Not so much.
Or maybe it wouldn’t matter. Maybe the clientele who booked swanky resorts were a different breed than those who preferred a more intimate setting. Quinn had no doubt that if the project came to fruition, it would forever alter their charming island.
“I wonder why they chose Easton Island?” she murmured aloud. It could have been because of the Shifting Sands Medallion. Morgan’s snoopy vlogger guests knew all about it. Perhaps word was getting out, attracting investors and generating interest in their sleepy little island.
The overhead bell chimed. Travis strode into the gallery, a friendly smile on his face. “Hey, Quinn.”
“Hello, Travis.”
“I’m surprised to find you working today.”
“I work a lot of Sundays.”
He casually spun in a slow circle. “Is Mrs. Easton working anytime soon?”
“Elizabeth Easton-Ainsworth? She works only part time these days. Actually, I’m not sure when she’s working next,” Quinn fibbed. She knew exactly when Elizabeth was working, but she had no plans to share this information with him.
“I see.”
“You seem quite curious about the Eastons.”
“It’s an intriguing family. I don’t know many people who have an island named after them.”
“Me either. You mentioned the other day that you had never made it all the way around the island. Did you finally venture out?”
“I did. I took your advice and started working my way east, through Easton Harbor and along the coastline. I noticed a lot of undeveloped real estate.”
“Perhaps not for long. An investment company purchased a big chunk of land and plans to build a resort and spa.” Quinn studied his face, searching for a reaction.
“I believe you’re correct.” He rubbed the stubble on his chin. “I know a little bit about it and heard that the senior Easton has rights to an easement, a roadway. The new owners will need her to sign off on it, granting them access.”
This…this was it. Travis had confessed the real reason he kept stopping by. Because Elizabeth, Brett, and Morgan owned a chunk of the road and the group needed their approval.
“For someone new to Easton Island, you seem to know a lot about the project.” Quinn arched her eyebrow, pinning him with a stare.
Travis didn’t look away, didn’t blink or flinch. Instead, he stepped closer. “You know why I’m here.”
Quinn turned her computer so he could see the screen and artist’s rendition of Sunrise Shores Resort & Spa. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
“I should have. I guess I was trying to get a feel for how it might go, to test the waters, so to speak. Mrs. Easton…Ainsworth, has a reputation.”
“Elizabeth is tough as nails, not to mention Easton Holdings Company is one of the largest holding companies in Canada. Elizabeth, Brett, and Morgan know their stuff.” She turned the computer back toward her.
“Did you know who I was from the get-go? Were you trying to befriend me, thinking I could help plead your cause using my connections?”
He lifted his hand. “Guilty as charged. I didn’t want to come rolling in here making demands or wheeling and dealing. I’ve found a softer, more subtle approach sometimes works better.” He slid his hands into his pockets. “Will you?”
“Will I what?”
“Help me plead my case to the Easton family.”
Quinn lifted her chin. “Why should I help you?”
“I don’t blame you for being ticked. In hindsight, I should’ve just told you who I was.” Travis shifted his feet. “How do you think they feel about a luxury spa and resort being built here?”
“I can’t speak for them, but if I were in their shoes, I could see the positives as well as the negatives. Jobs for the islanders. Tax dollars to pay for improvements. Additional customers for Easton Harbor and Locke Village businesses.”
“And the negatives?”
“Some of the islanders, especially the old-timers, aren’t keen on change.”
“But not all islanders are opposed to progress,” he insisted.
“Progress? No. Being overrun and not having the infrastructure to support all the visitors?” She gave him a thumb-down.
“I probably shouldn’t admit this, but if we don’t get the approval, our project is dead in the water. Everything hinges on getting them…getting her to agree to an easement.”
Quinn noted a hint of desperation in his eyes and voice.
“Scrapping the resort would be a major blow to the real estate investment group. If you had to take a wager on my odds, what do you think my talking them into it is?”
“I honestly don’t know. Maybe fifty-fifty.”
A hopeful glimmer lit his eyes. “I would be forever grateful if you could help me arrange a meeting. Running into Mrs. Ainsworth is turning into an impossible task.”
“I’m sure Elizabeth has heard about the project. She’s aware of everything that happens on Easton Island. I don’t doubt she also knows you need her…their consent,” Quinn said.
“She does,” Travis confirmed. “I could use a friend, an ally, to help me plead my case. Would you be willing to do me a small favor and play the middleman?”
Quinn pressed her palms together, reminding herself she was also an outsider, albeit with an insider link. She could see both sides: how building the upscale resort and spa would benefit Easton Harbor and Locke Village, not to mention the schools, hospital, police and fire departments.
It might also destroy the island’s charm, and she would hate to see that happen. Quinn loved Easton Island and was perfectly content to see it remain the same forever. But change was inevitable, even on this tiny strip of land situated smack-dab between Canada and the United States.
Easton Harbor already had a spa, but with limited services. A high-end luxury facility, upscale restaurants, lounges, the whole shebang sounded exciting. On the plus side, it would be built on the eastern side where it wouldn’t necessarily interrupt the daily lives of the islanders.
Elizabeth hadn’t mentioned it…had not breathed a word in casual conversation. Maybe because she knew the resort was a “no go” unless the family approved.
“What do you say?” Travis pleaded.
“I’m having dinner with Brett and will talk to him about it.”
“About possibly arranging a meeting so I can pitch the project to the Eastons? This would be huge. I would owe you a debt of gratitude.”
“A lifetime of complimentary spa visits?” she joked.
“Whatever it took.”
“If I agree, it’s only because you need to stop showing up here, trying to drag me into your problems.”
“I’ll take whatever reason I can get. Thank you for agreeing to help.” Travis, in a much improved mood, strolled out of the gallery.
“Dude,” Quinn briefly closed her eyes. “I am not on your side.”