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“My aunt snagged a primo location. I nicknamed it Birdie on the Bay,” Harlow said. “Dad picked this spot because it was far enough away from his place.”

“Your aunt and dad seem to get along pretty good.”

“They’ve had their moments. Dad knows it’s only temporary, unless Aunt Birdie follows through with her plan to build on the vacant lot she bought.”

“I’m sorry I lost my grip on you earlier,” he apologized.

“It was my fault. I was the one who lost my grip. I would have almost rather fallen flat on my face than have Caleb catch me,” Harlow sighed.

“Seriously? He seems like a decent guy.”

“He must’ve wondered what the heck was going on.” Harlow grinned at how they must have looked. Her holding onto Vic’s neck for dear life. Him trying to lift her up and over the fence.

He patted his pocket. “I want to give Makena a call. You gonna be okay for a few minutes while I take a walk?”

“Absolutely. Take your time.” After Vic left, Harlow pulled her cell phone from her pocket. She scrolled through her email messages and found one tagged confidential. Curious to find out who it was from, Harlow clicked on the link, her heart plummeting.

Chapter 17

Harlow’s anonymous message was brief and to the point: “Harlow Wynn is a has-been.” A laughing emoji at the end made it clear the sender wanted her to know they thought she was no longer relevant.

She clicked out of the email and tapped on the sender’s information. It was transmitted through a third-party service with no information other than it being a site to send anonymous emails.

“Clown.” Harlow tried brushing it off. She was no stranger to spam messages, weird ramblings, and sometimes frightening notes that had triggered calls to local law enforcement. Over the years, she and Robert had gotten pretty good at figuring out which ones were a legitimate threat.

This was different. The sender knew her personal email address. Harlow was still trying to figure out who had sent it when Vic reappeared.

“Makena said to tell you hi.”

“How’s she doing?”

“Busy. She’s geeked about visiting, although she’ll only have a couple days.”

“Like two ships passing in the night,” Harlow joked.

“Thanks for extending the invite.” Vic settled into the seat next to her. “What’s with the serious look?”

“This.” Harlow pulled up the email and handed him her phone.

His face grew grim. “Has-been, huh?”

“Only a handful of people have my personal email address.”

“You think it’s from Robert?”

“Robert or Jillian.”

“I wouldn’t worry about it.” He handed her phone back.

“I’m not. If I had a dollar for every crackpot message I got, I could retire.”

“I met the British gardening lady while I was walking around,” Vic said.

“Lottie Fletcher.”

“She was singing to the flowers.”

“Lottie is a one of a kind. I think my dad likes her,” Harlow confided. “They have a weekly casserole and cards night.”