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Chapter 9

Harlow promptly logged out of the site and into another bank account she and Robert shared. Once again, the password had been changed and once again, Harlow was forced to contact a branch employee to gain access.

She logged in, relieved to find out the money was accounted for.

There was one final bank account, an account in Harlow’s name alone, one she’d opened before marrying Robert and insisted on keeping. She logged into it and found the money untouched. In other words, her husband hadn’t been able to get his hands on it.

Harlow stared glumly at the computer screen. Robert had emptied their main bank account. She briefly wondered what he’d done to the joint investment accounts. At least he couldn’t touch her personal retirement account.

She snatched her phone off the counter, her hand trembling as she dialed her husband’s cell phone number. It went directly to voicemail. Forcing her voice to remain calm, Harlow asked him to call her back immediately.

“He can’t keep your money,” David said after she hung up. “A judge will find out what he’s done and make him split all assets.”

“What is he thinking?” A terrifying thought crept into Harlow’s head. Her conversation with Janice. Robert had cleaned out the bank account and canceled her credit cards. “What if he plans to petition for my guardianship, claiming I’m unstable and no longer able to make decisions on my own?”

“He’s gonna have a hard time convincing a judge of that, especially when you’re functioning well enough to work.”

“True. Still, if he’s cleaned out our main bank account, I wouldn’t put it past him.” Harlow checked her retirement account, relieved to find it was intact. Nothing had been touched. At least that was something.

“I need to call an attorney. Unfortunately, the only ones I know are attorneys Robert hired.”

David shuffled through the pile of papers sitting on the counter. “I can recommend an attorney. I know for a fact the Eastons have also used him. He’s good. Probably one of the best in the area. You could try giving him a call.”

“What’s his name?”

“Nigel Beckworth. He has offices in Toronto and Michigan.”

Harlow promptly opened a new screen and typed the attorney’s name in the search bar. “Wow. This guy gets topnotch ratings and reviews. If he’s good enough for you and the Eastons, he’s good enough for me.”

She dialed the office number and left a brief message, asking Attorney Beckworth to return her call. “It’s Sunday. I’m sure I won’t hear from him today.” Harlow closed out of the screens and shut the lid on her laptop. “I could use some fresh air.”

“Do you want me to go with you?”

“Only if you want to listen to me vent,” she joked.

“I see nothing wrong with blowing off a little steam.” David glanced out the window. “It’s a beautiful day. Why don’t we take Winnie out for a spin?”

“You don’t need to ask me twice. I’ll go grab a jacket.” By the time Harlow found what she needed, Mort and her father werewaiting on the porch. She swapped out her wheelchair for the scooter and off they went.

David did most of the talking, briefly sharing his vision of the renovations and repairs to Wynn Harbor Inn. “After visiting Easton Island and seeing Morgan’s setup at Locke Pointe, I decided it would be much more manageable and, best of all, less money to rebuild on a smaller, more intimate scale.”

“It makes sense. I can invest my money, too.IfI have any money left.”

“Robert can’t keep it,” David said. “The sooner we get an attorney involved and put a stop to his antics, the better.”

They reached the boat dock. Harlow and Mort patiently waited for her father to check the lines and load the gear.

Aunt Birdie texted, reporting she and Eryn had arrived safely and promised to keep her in the loop.

Harlow thanked her. She didn’t mention the stunt her husband had pulled. It would take too long to explain.

With a little help from her father, Harlow was soon seated near the front of the sailboat. Lake Huron, with the bright sun shining down, sparkled like a million diamonds.

Within minutes they were gliding over the open water, skirting Mackinac Island’s coastline. Mort snuggled up next to Harlow. He placed his paws on her lap and gazed out toward the shoreline, a look of pure joy on his furry face.

“Mort loves sailing.”

“He does. We haven’t gone out as often as we used to. I know he misses it. I do too.”