Chapter 25
Morgan waited for Chester to trample over the top of her and flop down on the passenger seat. “Ronni is coming home today. We’ll be off the hook as soon as I host the breakfast part of our bed-and-breakfast routine.”
She shifted into reverse and backed out of the driveway, casting a wary gaze at the dark storm clouds forming. “I was thinking we should take Tristan out for ice cream later. Hopefully, the doozy of a storm that is brewing blows over by then.”
Brett had dropped him off at school that morning before he left for Toronto. He’d reported back that his son seemed slightly apprehensive. She chalked it up to the Renaud kids picking on him after Saturday’s science fair.
“But first, I’ll bring him by to play with you and Mr. Pickles.”
Her neighbor Beatrice had made it through her surgery without any complications. Morgan had sent a text message reply, thanking her for the update and attached a photo of Chester and the bunny frolicking in the yard.
Mr. Pickles appeared to be adjusting to his new surroundings, although his floppy ears seemed a little “floppier.” Whenever she mentioned Beatrice’s name, they perked up.
Morgan flew through her morning, checking guests out and coordinating their departure with Greg, who was in charge of shuttling them to the harbor and airport. In between, she helped Tina serve breakfast to the remaining hungry guests.
Having left her cell phone on her desk, plugged into the charger, she finally took a break and glanced at the screen, noticing a missed call from Quinn only moments earlier. She promptly dialed her friend’s number.
“Morgan,” a breathless Quinn picked up right away. “Where are you?”
“At Locke Pointe. Why?”
“He’s here,” she hissed. “Travis is here. Elizabeth is helping customers, and he’s waiting for her to finish.”
“To corner her about the Sunrise Shores Spa & Resort project?”
“I’m positive of it.” Quinn lowered her voice. “If you can get away, I think you should be here.”
“On my way.” She told Tina something had come up, and Morgan took off, making it to Easton Harbor and the art gallery in record time. She dashed inside while a rumble of thunder echoed overhead. She found Elizabeth helping customers while Mason stood casually sipping coffee and chatting with Quinn.
“Hey, Quinn.” Morgan nodded in Travis’s direction, acknowledging his presence. “Hello, Mr…”
“Mason. Travis Mason,” he replied. “Morgan Easton. We meet again.”
“How fortuitous,” she joked. “You must have a pretty awesome boss to be hanging out, shooting the breeze on a Monday morning.”
“Actually, I’m working.”
“Working at the gallery?”
“I’m here to speak with your grandmother.”
“About…”
“A project on Easton Island.”
Morgan pretended not to know what he was referring to. “I’m familiar with most of what is happening on the island. Is it here in Easton Harbor?”
“On the east side. We just put up a sign. You may have noticed it, Sunrise Shores Resort & Spa.”
“What does this have to do with Grandmother?”
The conversation abruptly ended when Elizabeth, accompanied by customers who were purchasing a piece of art, made their way to the counter. The artwork, a recently consigned watercolor of Easton Harbor, captured Captain Davey’s ferryboat chugging off in the distance, making its way to the mainland.
“What a great pick,” Quinn said. “I’ll miss looking at this.”
“I have the perfect spot for it in my sunroom. We have a summer home down around the bend. I love watching the ferryboats and being near the water. I keep telling my husband that someday we’re selling our home in Bloomfield Hills and moving here year-round.”
The couple completed their transaction and exited the gallery, leaving Morgan, Quinn, Elizabeth, and Travis Mason alone.
The senior Easton greeted him with a guarded smile. “Hello.”
“Elizabeth Easton-Ainsworth, meet Travis Mason,” Quinn said.
They politely shook hands.
Morgan wasn’t surprised when her grandmother cut to the chase. “From the Sunrise Shores Real Estate Group.”
“Correct.”
“You need a right-of-way easement agreement for the strip of land I own.”
“Also correct. My partners sent a letter a few weeks ago, requesting a meeting to discuss our project.”
Elizabeth shifted her stance, clasping her hands in front of her. “Don’t you think it would have been prudent to have secured my permission before you purchased the property?”
“In hindsight, yes,” he admitted.
Morgan recognized the look in her grandmother’s eye. She almost felt sorry for the man. He had no idea what he was up against. Or maybe he did and was so desperate to get the deal done, he didn’t care.
“A project of this magnitude will affect all of Easton Island. Half the islanders will be adamantly opposed. A quarter will be mildly annoyed while the smallest group would welcome it.”
“The local business owners,” Morgan chimed in.
“Until the locals realize how it would benefit them. Additional tax revenue, improved public services.”
“Congestion, more traffic,” Elizabeth interrupted.
“You built that big, beautiful airport. It’s a shame it’s not being utilized to its full potential,” Mason argued.
“The partners are willing to offer you generous compensation, one you should at least consider.” He reached into his pocket, removed a letter size envelope and handed it to her.
“I know you don’t owe me anything, but I would appreciate it if you would do me a small favor and at least look at it. ”
Elizabeth glanced at the envelope and slid it into the side pocket of her purse. “All decisions are made with my granddaughter, Morgan, and grandson, Brett.”
“I understand. My contact information is on the proposal. How long do you think it will take for you to go over it?”
“A day or so. I’m not one to drag things out.”
“Thank you for your time.” He turned to leave. “I’m sure you’re aware that even if we can’t reach an agreement, the investors will explore other avenues and options to resolve the…issue.”
The veiled threat hung in the air as Travis Mason exited the gallery.
Morgan waited until he was gone. “I guess it’s safe to say he put all his cards on the table.”
“Or in the offer,” Elizabeth muttered. “I’m sure he was telling the truth, that this isn’t going to go away. We will have to make a decision about how to proceed. It’s time for a family meeting. I’ll text Brett to see if he’s available to go over the proposal and figure out what we’re up against.”
“I don’t know much about Mason’s group, but if they have deep pockets, we could be in for a long, drawn-out battle.”
“He plans to play hardball,” Quinn said.
“I’m sure he…they do,” Morgan said. “However, he’s underestimating the Easton family—and Grandmother—by a longshot.”