Chapter 8
Harlow’s scalp tingled. “My ex, Robert Barbetz, has a contract on Lighthouse Lane.”
“No, but Robert is a great guess,” Peyton said. “CClifton LLC signed the contract.”
Harlow repeated the name. “Why does the name Clifton ring a bell?”
“Cheyenne Clifton. It could be Cheyenne. Her parents own Clifton Manor.”
“Caleb’s rumored girlfriend,” Harlow said. “Why would she want to purchase Lighthouse Lane?”
“To aggravate you,” Aunt Birdie guessed.
“Most of the islanders have heard you’re interested in the place. I suppose if she wanted to get under your skin, she would throw a wrench into your plans to purchase it by tying it up for who knows how long.”
“Do you think she intends to buy it? Maybe she’s looking for a place to live.” Harlow had thought about her ex’s alleged girlfriend in passing, mainly when they bumped into each other in town, which thankfully, hadn’t been often.
She had her own thoughts about Caleb and Cheyenne, but the bottom line was she had enough on her plate to worry about other than who Caleb dated, including the snooty woman. Yet she had to admit she was surprised he would be interested in her.
Granted, she was beautiful in an exotic way with long, silky jet black hair, and she had no doubt he found her attractive.
From what Harlow had heard, this was where the attraction ended.
Cheyenne had a reputation for being a snide, rude and arrogant woman.
Her wealthy family owned the upscale hotel, and from whispered rumors Harlow had heard, they earned their money from multiple real estate investments.
So perhaps it wasn’t Cheyenne who was purchasing the property, but her family.
“Maybe Cheyenne’s parents are purchasing it,” Harlow said.
“Why call it CClifton LLC?” Abby asked. “Why would Asa and Trish Clifton be interested in the property? They already have one of the island’s premier plots of land.”
“I guess at the end of the day it doesn’t matter. They beat me to the punch.” Harlow cleared the counter and began arranging the trays of cookies. “On a brighter note, I can’t wait to sample these cookies.”
“I brought some boxes from the fudge shop to box them up,” Peyton said. “They all look delish.”
Harlow started rattling them off. “Besides my mom’s famous frosted sugar cookies, I see pretty poinsettia pinwheels.”
“Those are mine,” Abby said.
“What are these?” Harlow lifted an oblong puff pastry, its top drizzled with frosting and chunks of peppermint.
“White chocolate peppermint rugelach.” Meg licked her lips. “It’s part pie, part pastry and all yummy.”
There were red velvet Christmas trees with cream cheese frosting Noelle had made, Lottie’s shortbread cookies, Peyton’s gingerbread biscotti and Eryn’s coconut macaroons.
Working her way along the counter in assembly line fashion, Harlow filled an empty box with cookies. Noelle jumped in, filling and folding the boxes until they had several stacks—one for each of the friends including Lottie who wasn’t there.
“Here’s yours, Aunt Birdie.” Harlow handed her a box.
Her aunt started to protest. “I didn’t contribute.”
“Seriously, you have to take them,” Peyton said. “Our feelings will be hurt if you don’t.”
“You’re twisting my arm, but in the most delicious way possible.” Aunt Birdie packed a to-go container with leftovers and grabbed her jacket along with the cookies. “I’ll drop these goodies off at home, and then Mort and I will walk off some of this food.”
The pup, who had been napping in his doggie bed, promptly scrambled to his feet and ran to the door when he heard the word walk.
Harlow trailed behind them. “Are you sure you don’t want to hang out?”
“Nah. It’s been a long day. As soon as I finish my walk, I plan to turn the television on, snuggle under my nice warm blankets and veg out for the rest of the evening, but thank you for the offer and for the delicious dinner.
” Her aunt lifted the container. “I’ll be sampling cookies while I’m at it. ”
Harlow gave her a hug. “Have a nice night.”
“You too, dear. I’ll let Mort back in when we’re done.” Her aunt left, and the Mackies made quick work of cleaning up the kitchen and storing the leftovers before gathering in the living room.
Harlow donned a festive red and white cap and passed out the Secret Santa presents. Not one gift was the same, ranging from tree ornaments to gift cards. She ended up with a portable karaoke machine with dual microphones.
As soon as the gift-giving was over, she promptly set the equipment up and coerced her friends into a singalong. Around the room they went, each singing their rendition of a popular Christmas tune, some were hilarious versions while others more traditional.
Harlow chose her version of “Santa on a Wintry Night,” changing out the lyrics to include Mackinac Island.
The friends laughed and cheered, even at times with tears rolling down their cheeks. All too soon the fun evening ended, and the Mackies packed up.
Harlow accompanied them to the main road, where Marty, their designated driver, sat waiting.
It made her sad to see the party over, thinking it had been one of the best she’d ever hosted.
Not the high-end guests, a who’s who Hollywood was known for, with butler service, valet attendants and extravagant dishes she couldn’t even pronounce let alone eat, but a party full of friends and laughter…
one she could tuck away in her growing cherished memories, courtesy of her beloved Mackies.
“This was one of the best parties ever.” Meg lifted her bag of leftovers. “Don’t put your new karaoke machine on a shelf.”
“We’re going to get it back out again soon,” Abby chimed in. “Maybe we should plan an after New Year’s Eve shindig.”
“I’ll be there,” Noelle said. “We’ll be ready for it now that the long winter is settling in.”
“My new year is shaping up to be interesting,” Harlow said. “I might have missed the boat on Lighthouse Lane, but the right house is out there for me. I can feel it in my bones.”
“You’ll know more when you hear from Allie,” Peyton said. “If Cheyenne is the one who put the offer in, I wouldn’t be surprised if she did it to spite you.”
“But why?”
“You’re pretty, rich, famous, an awesome person…and because of Caleb,” Eryn said.
“Caleb and I are friends, but our feelings for each other ended long ago.”
“Are you sure?” Abby arched her eyebrow. “Even now, at the mention of his name, I see how your face lights up.”
“Caleb might not be as smitten with Cheyenne as you think,” Noelle said.
“I agree,” Meg said. “He’s been hanging out at the Dockside Grill on the weekends with his friends.”
“I ran into him too,” Eryn said. “In fact, now that I think about it, I haven’t seen him and Cheyenne together in quite a while.”
“Maybe Cheyenne has been out of town, so Caleb is keeping busy with his friends.”
“No, she’s around,” Noelle said. “She stopped by the flower shop the other day to pick up some arrangements for Clifton Manor.”
“It doesn’t matter.” Harlow squared her shoulders. “I’m looking forward to being single and by myself. Besides, after my disastrous marriage, I don’t trust my judgment.”
Eryn glanced at her watch. “Your dad hasn’t come home yet.”
“He and Lottie must be having a nice, long dinner. They deserve it.” After the Mackies left, Harlow and Mort took the long way home. She replayed the evening festivities. The party had been a blast; spending time with her friends and family was what holidays were all about.
Maybe Cheyenne was purchasing Lighthouse Lane. It was a free country. She had as much right to buy the place as Harlow did.
Still, the niggling thought that perhaps the woman had done it to be spiteful, like the others had suggested, was something to consider. If so, Harlow wondered if she’d inadvertently made an enemy.
She returned home and discovered a text from Robert, reminding her about his plans to meet with her the following day.
Harlow texted back to pin him down about the exact time. He didn’t reply, which wasn’t unusual. The fact of the matter was, she needed to ensure their face-to-face meeting was productive and civil. Her career and livelihood depended on it.