Chapter 9
“Thank you for inviting me to dinner, David.” Lottie met his gaze across the table.
“I didn’t mean to take you away from your Mackies’ holiday party,” he gruffly replied.
“No worries. Harlow has this. I’ve gone to almost every single event, so missing one, even though this is the holiday cookie bake-off and gift exchange, is fine by me.” She absentmindedly traced the rim of her glass with her fingertip. “I’m glad you and Harlow have made amends.”
“Me too. It was a tough…rough…stretch after the fire.”
“It’s a shame about Lighthouse Lane going pending right when she was ready to make her offer,” Lottie said. “It makes me wonder…”
“Wonder?”
“I’ve heard the talk. Most of the islanders knew Harlow had gone to look at it and that she was interested.”
“You think someone may have intentionally snatched it up because she wanted it?” David drummed his fingers on the table. “Who would do such a thing?”
Lottie shrugged. “Who knows? I don’t think Harlow has made any enemies, although it strikes me as an odd coincidence.”
“The timing.”
“Mmm…hmm. It’s not a hot real estate market right now, not to mention the fact that the place needs updating.”
“It does. Harlow and I went there. She wanted my thoughts on what it would take to renovate it,” David said. “Maybe someone plans to buy it and turn around and jack the price up if they think Harlow wants the property badly enough.”
“That’s an interesting theory.” Lottie grew thoughtful. “Could be. Harlow has plenty of cash to purchase it without batting an eye.”
“Or the original offer could fall through.” David slipped his reading glasses on and changed the subject. “I can’t remember the last time I ate at Clifton Court. I hear the food is delicious.”
Lottie opened her menu, her eyes growing round as saucers. “And expensive.”
David covered the side listing the prices. “Don’t worry about the cost. We’re here to treat ourselves to a nice holiday dinner.”
“You’re right. You can never go wrong with a piece of grilled fish.” Lottie set the menu aside. “I’ll try the red snapper.”
“And I think I’ll go for a thick, juicy steak.” David set his menu on top of Lottie’s. “How is your latest project going?”
“The pieces I unearthed while wrapping up the gardening season? I turned them over to the historical society. They’re making me an honorary member because of my contributions,” she joked.
“I must admit you have a knack for finding unusual artifacts,” he said. “Speaking of findings, I ran into Caleb the other day. He thinks the fire investigator will have his preliminary report ready soon.”
“Are you nervous?”
“Yes, and no. I want to get to the bottom of what happened the night of the fire, but I can’t shake this feeling I might not like what he finds.”
“Because you think someone intentionally set the fire?” Lottie asked.
The conversation was interrupted when the server arrived to take their order. It resumed as soon as she walked away.
“I remember seeing a flash of bright light and hearing a clanking sound.”
“Maybe it was Ginger, not starting the fire, of course, but making the noise.”
David pondered Lottie’s suggestion. He’d had similar thoughts. Ginger had been working on a project and even mentioned it earlier that same day. When he passed by the manager’s unit, he noticed her lights were on. “It’s possible.”
“The good news is the Eastons are moving forward with the project.” Lottie sipped her soda. “I meant to ask you about your overnight visit to Easton Island. Harlow mentioned meeting Morgan Easton.”
“Although it was a quick trip, I’m glad we went. It confirmed my idea that a smaller-scale inn is what I want.”
“Less work.”
“Correct. Easier to manage, to staff, the whole shebang.”
“It also put some of Harlow’s concerns to rest,” Lottie guessed.
“It did.” David leaned back in his chair. “Morgan and Harlow are a lot alike.”
“In what ways?”
“Both are go-getters. They know what they want and aren’t afraid to go after it,” he said. “I also see a softer side. They care about their families and leaving behind a legacy.”
“From what I recall hearing, Morgan doesn’t remember her father. Her mother left Easton Island when she was young.”
“And never returned. Imagine finding out you had a grandmother and brother on an island bearing your name.”
“Inheriting properties, assets, and a future she knew nothing about. It would be shocking.”
“At least Harlow has always known who she was and where she came from.”
“I wonder why Morgan’s mother left,” Lottie mused.
“I believe it has something to do with her half-brother, Brett Easton, who is close to the same age.”
“Another woman was involved?”
“That would be my guess.”
Their food arrived—Lottie’s red snapper accompanied by roasted red potatoes swimming in a buttery garlic sauce, grilled artichokes and fresh-from-the-oven sweet rolls.
The server placed David’s plate, which looked just as enticing, in front of him. Along with his New York strip steak was a loaded baked potato, green beans and a generous side of basmati rice.
“The food looks divine.” Lottie carved out a generous piece of fish and took a big bite. She closed her eyes, savoring the creamy lemon flavor. “Cooked to perfection,” she murmured.
David cut a piece of his steak. “The steak is grilled exactly how I would make it.”
“Thank you again for inviting me to dinner.”
“And thank you for keeping the Wynn Harbor Inn’s gardens looking like they belong on the cover of a home and garden magazine.”
“I love gardening and flowers.”
The couple chatted about the winter months, celebrating Christmas on New Year’s Eve, Aunt Birdie’s plans for Petoskey Point, the property she’d recently purchased.
“Your sister is finally settling down,” Lottie joked.
“At least for a few months each year. Somehow, I don’t envision her being around all the time. She prefers to flit from place to place.”
“Unlike the two of us, who are perfectly content puttering around the island.”
“We’re two peas in a pod, Lottie.”
“Yes, we are.”
Their eyes met, and David looked away. “I hope you stick around Mackinac Island for a good long time.”
“It’s home,” she simply said. “I can’t think of anywhere else I would rather be.”
The meal ended, and Lottie excused herself to go freshen up. She circled around a trio of tables, making a straight shot toward the women’s restroom.
Halfway there, she glanced at a man seated in a booth facing toward her. He looked familiar, as if she’d seen him before. He casually glanced in her direction, not smiling, not frowning but perhaps merely bored.
She moved past him and strolled into the restroom at the end of a long hall. After taking care of business, she primped in the bathroom mirror. Lottie leaned in, turning her head to the side. “Ugh. Another streak of gray. It seems like I get a new one every day,” she sighed.
A woman exited a bathroom stall—a beautiful woman with jet black hair, wearing a tight-knit red dress, showing off her hourglass figure. It was Cheyenne Clifton. She stepped in front of the sink next to Lottie.
Cheyenne waved her hands under the faucet, casting a side glance in Lottie’s direction. “Hello.”
“Hello.” She offered the woman a tentative smile. “Cheyenne?”
“Yes.”
“I…uh…your parents own this place.”
“They do. Do I know you?”
“Lottie Fletcher. I’m a gardener at the Grand Hotel and Wynn Harbor Inn.”
Cheyenne curled her lip. “Your name sounds vaguely familiar. Are you applying for a server position?”
Lottie could feel warm heat creep up her neck. “No. I’m here having dinner.”
“I see. Well, enjoy your meal.” Cheyenne flounced out of the bathroom, her nose up in the air.
Lottie’s first thought was she’d been snubbed by the snooty Cheyenne Clifton. With a final inspection in the mirror, she trailed behind.
Taking the most direct path, Lottie passed by the booth and the man who looked vaguely familiar. Cheyenne sat across from him.
She pretended not to notice the couple and returned to her seat.
“You look like someone rained on your parade,” David commented.
“I ran into Cheyenne Clifton in the bathroom. She asked me if I was applying for a job.” Lottie tugged on the collar of her silky blouse. “Do I look like I’m applying for a restaurant job?”
He grinned. “No. Not in the least.”
“Cheyenne is so annoying,” she hissed under her breath. “I think she intentionally tried to insult me. What a horrid creature!”
“She won’t win any popularity contests, at least from what I’ve heard.”
The tinkle of laughter echoed. Lottie glanced over her shoulder, watching while Cheyenne flicked the tips of her hair, laughing at what the man across from her had said. “She’s flirting with a guy. He looks vaguely familiar, like I’ve seen him before.”
David half-turned, following Lottie’s gaze. “There’s a reason he looks familiar. You’re never going to guess who he is.”