Page 1 of Birdie by the Bay (Wynn Harbor Inn #2)

Harlow sat quietly, her hands in her lap while her father wheeled her back to Wynn Harbor Inn’s family cottage. A melancholy sense of loss settled in, an ache from missing her mother after visiting Ginger’s gravesite, a visit which had been long overdue.

But there was something else. An inkling of unfinished business. The cause of the fire that had taken her mother’s life had never been determined. She knew there were whispers amongst the islanders who believed David Wynn had been behind it.

For several years, Harlow suspected the same.

But since her accident and return to Mackinac Island, she no longer believed her father had set the fire.

To say her parents’ marriage had been strained was putting it mildly.

In fact, at the time of her death, they were no longer living under the same roof.

Harlow’s father was living in the Victorian cottage, the family home. Meanwhile, Ginger had moved into the manager’s unit inside the main structure of Wynn Harbor Inn.

It was a cozy space, having everything needed for day-to-day living, but on a smaller scale.

Clerestory windows brought in natural light yet weren’t functional, meaning they didn’t open.

According to the fire department, the fiery inferno had started somewhere near the apartment and quickly swept through several of the main floor hotel rooms.

All the inn’s guests had escaped…everyone except for Harlow’s mother, who had been trapped in her unit.

Harlow would never forget that fateful night. The alarms. The sirens. The smoke. The heat. Frantically searching the crowd for signs of her mother. Her father had done the same.

Horrifying moments turned into hours. Standing helplessly by as the flames licked their way up the walls. Harlow stood as close as the firefighters would allow her to, praying, pleading with God for a miracle.

After the fire died down, the fire chief sought them out.

He found Harlow and her father, both numb and in shock.

He hadn’t said a word…hadn’t needed to. Shoulders slumped, and head down, his expression was one of defeat.

He confirmed what Harlow’s father had already told her.

Ginger had perished in the fire. “I’m sorry. ”

Harlow remembered stumbling back, desperate to get away from the scene, unable, unwilling to face the fact her mother was gone.

She ran away from the inn, down the sidewalk, blindly running until she reached Ginger’s beloved rose garden.

She fell to her knees, sobbing uncontrollably as tears streamed down her cheeks.

David found his daughter there, face down on the ground. Just like he had a few minutes ago, he had picked her up and carried her home. Harlow remembered sitting on the porch. Just sitting. Barely breathing. In less than twenty-four hours, her entire world had collapsed.

The days following the fire passed by in a numbing haze. Ginger’s body was eventually found in the kitchenette of her unit. The funeral. Her burial in the small plot on the property.

Harlow’s heartbreak and pain slowly morphed into anger and bitterness, all directed at her father.

It was his fault. If Harlow’s parents had been living at the cottage and under the same roof, Ginger would still be alive.

He knew those windows wouldn’t open. And then when the insurance company refused to pay after the reason for the fire was undetermined, combined with the report mentioning the possibility of an accelerant being used, Harlow’s heart hardened.

Not long after, she left Mackinac Island and rented a small studio apartment on the outskirts of LA. She refused her father’s calls, threw away every note, every letter, every card he sent her. Unopened. Right in the trash.

The strained relationship continued for years until Harlow’s car accident. Without hesitation, her father, along with her best friend Eryn Marquette, had boarded a plane and flown to California. Renting a car, they drove straight to Malibu Memorial Hospital.

Of course, her husband Robert had been around but only when David Wynn and Eryn weren’t there, mostly to assess the extent of his wife’s injuries and remind her she needed to hurry up and get back on her feet before she started filming in Vancouver.

When it became clear Robert had no intention of caring for his wife, Harlow realized that, although she could easily afford twenty-four-hour care, the paparazzi would be camped out in front of her house with her trapped inside.

Healing would be nearly impossible under their round-the-clock watchful eye.

Eryn and her father convinced her that returning home to Mackinac Island to recover was the only option. Every day, she thanked God she was away from prying eyes. Away from a husband who showed little concern for his wife’s health.

Even Vic, her bodyguard and friend, had left Harlow in her time of need.

“…through the fields of highlands to the Irish Sea,

Farewell to my new friends,

To all we mean to be…”

The tantalizing aroma of bacon frying wafted through the cottage’s screen door. Aunt Birdie’s off-key singing grew louder.

David eased Harlow’s wheelchair over the threshold. “What’s all the racket?”

“What racket?”

Harlow grinned at the sight of her aunt, clad in hot pink yoga pants and a Bob Seger T-shirt. Flip-flops and thick wool socks completed her ensemble.

“There you are.” Birdie’s face softened when she spotted her niece. “Your dad and I were starting to worry about you.”

“I didn’t go far.” Harlow explained she’d gone to visit her mother’s grave.

“I stopped by to say hello to Ginger last night, after I finished setting up my RV. Your dad’s kept her final resting place so peaceful and tranquil.”

“I noticed fresh flowers on her grave.”

“I put those there,” David said. “I don’t want Ginger to think we forgot about her.”

A wave of guilt washed over Harlow. While she had been gallivanting around the world, raking in big bucks, her father was here…home…trying to salvage what was left of his life, making sure the memorial to his wife was taken care of.

Her throat clogged. “I’m sorry, Dad. I should have been here.”

David looked away, but not before Harlow noticed his eyes filling with tears.

“We’re all here now to keep Ginger company.” Aunt Birdie waved the spatula in the air. “But first, we need sustenance.”

“I’ve never been much of a breakfast person, but since you went to all the trouble, I’ll happily help gobble up the goodies,” Harlow joked.

David and his sister finished whipping up a hearty breakfast. Along with bacon, there were eggs, sunny side up, blueberry pancakes and crispy croissants that Aunt Birdie had made a special trip to the local bakery to purchase.

While they worked on breakfast preparations, Harlow set the table, loading dishes on her lap to carry to the cozy bistro table overlooking the rear yard.

From the window, Harlow could see hints of yellow and gold dipping the tips of the leaves. Fall, in all its glory, was only weeks away.

“Gorgeous, isn’t it?” Aunt Birdie placed the platter of food in the center of the table and nudged her head toward the trees. “I have missed the changing of the seasons.”

“I haven’t kept tabs on you in a while now.” Harlow curiously eyed her aunt. “Where are you living these days? Hawaii? Tahiti? Some other tropical locale?”

“All of those plus more. I was living on a ship.”

Harlow’s eyes widened. “A ship?”

“One of those travel-around-the-world cruise ships. I hopped off in Montenegro and hopped on a plane as soon as I could. On my way here, I swung by an RV dealership to purchase Happy Camper, the name I picked out for my temporary home.” Birdie snapped her fingers. “And here I am.”

“You bought the RV just to come to Mackinac Island?” David placed glasses of orange juice on the table and helped Harlow into an empty seat.

“Yep. She’s a beaut, too. Happy has all the creature comforts.” Aunt Birdie rattled off a few of her temporary home’s features. “I’ll have to run it into town to the city’s pump station every couple of weeks to empty the tanks using the same horsepower that I used to get it here.”

Harlow studied her aunt’s face. “You’ve gone to a lot of trouble, and expense, just to be here to help me.”

“As I’ve already pointed out, I can take care of Harlow,” her father added.

“I’ll admit that maybe I’m being a little selfish. I haven’t seen Harlow, other than on the big screen, in ages. It’s nice to sit here at the table catching up. Maybe even spend time with my brother. You haven’t been in the mood for visitors since…” Birdie’s voice faded.

Harlow knew what she was going to say. Since the fire and Ginger’s death.

The horrific tragedy had changed her father overnight.

He’d gone from being a gracious, talkative, story-telling host who loved showing off his beloved Wynn Harbor Inn to being withdrawn, moody, even hostile at times, and that was before Harlow had hightailed it out of there.

“So.” Birdie tapped the table, pinning her brother with a pointed stare. “I walked the property. What are your plans?”

“Plans?”

“To fix the place up. Do you need money? I can help with renovations.”

“I have an investor lined up. Actually, two.”

“Dad is partnering with Easton Holdings Company,” Harlow explained.

“Not Easton Holdings, but Morgan Easton and her brother, Brett.”

“Morgan Easton.” Birdie tapped her chin. “I’ve heard the name before.”

“She inherited properties from her mother. She also found the Shifting Sands Medallion, an artifact which went missing decades ago.” David explained Morgan and her brother were using their own private funds to invest. “In fact, we’ll start scheduling the construction crews as soon as Brett and I address the fines and secure the necessary permits. ”

“Wonderful. If you need another investor, I would be happy to throw some cash your way,” Birdie said. “I wouldn’t mind staking a claim in Mackinac Island’s real estate.”

“It would be a nightmare,” David grumbled. “Having you as a sister is bad enough. I can’t imagine having you as a business partner.”

Birdie clenched her fist and playfully punched her brother in the arm. “Very funny.” She sobered. “I’m glad to hear this beautiful piece of property will be restored.”

“I am too.” Harlow scooped a spoonful of eggs onto her plate before passing the dish to her aunt. “Maybe there is a silver lining to my accident. It brought our little family back together again.”

“It did.” Birdie lifted her glass of orange juice. “I propose a toast.”

Harlow lifted her glass. Her father grudgingly lifted his.

“To fresh starts and moving forward.”

Harlow clinked glasses. “Moving forward,” she echoed. “No matter what obstacles life throws at us.”

Little did she know the sentiment would echo back to her over and over again. Obstacles and challenges, greater than anything Harlow had ever encountered, were heading her way.