Page 14 of Birdie by the Bay (Wynn Harbor Inn #2)

Harlow lost count of the number of times Robert called and texted. She contemplated turning her cell phone off, and she would have if not for the fact she wanted to be available in case Aunt Birdie or Eryn phoned.

Unsure of what he might do if he ran into Eryn and her aunt, she warned them to keep a low profile after dinner and avoid being in the vicinity of the apartment.

After Vic headed to his cottage and her father turned in for the night, Harlow logged onto the apartment’s security cameras. She wasn’t surprised to discover they’d been turned off.

She switched over to the condo in Palm Beach. Same thing. No surveillance cameras were recording. Up next was the house in Malibu. The interior cameras weren’t on, but the exterior ones were in perfect working order, which could only mean one thing. Robert had manually turned them off.

He left several messages. Harlow refused to listen to a single one. She wasn’t ready to deal with him, at least not yet.

Restless and unable to sleep, she threw on sweatpants and a shirt and slipped out of the house. Mort, who had crashed out in front of her bed, his favorite sleeping spot, trailed behind. Down the makeshift ramp her father had built, and along the sidewalk they went.

The moon was full and bright, giving off enough light for Harlow and the pup to navigate the property.

She meandered aimlessly, with no particular destination in mind. All the while, Harlow mentally berated herself. She’d been an idiot to let her marriage get this far into the weeds.

If she really thought about it, the signs were right before her eyes…had been there for years. Robert was all about Robert. Granted, he’d played an instrumental role in helping Harlow advance her career. Although, in her defense, she’d been well on her way by the time they met.

Over the years, he had carefully crafted the Harlow Wynn brand. Her look. How she walked. How she talked. Polished, refined. Never a hint of scandal. She prided herself on being the best. All her years of hard work had paid off…in spades.

And now, because of one moment of stupidity on her part for not paying attention to the road, she was on sinking sand. Her husband had ripped the rug out from under her. If she couldn’t fulfill her end of the contract and deliver, Harlow might never land another major movie deal.

In other words, there was a good chance her career would come to a screeching halt. To top it all off, it was entirely possible Robert planned to have her declared mentally disabled and petition for guardianship. The thought made her want to throw up.

Perhaps that was why he had taken a chunk of their money. He realized Harlow might not be able to fulfill the contract and helped himself to what he thought should be his. There were still the properties in New York, Florida and California. As far as she knew, all still had mortgages.

Even making big bucks, bills needed to be paid—large, monthly payments. The bodyguards, her publicist, housekeepers, gardeners, maintenance and upkeep of the homes. Lots and lots of expenses. Luxury cars, you name it.

The list of expenses was mindboggling. Off the top of her head, she couldn’t even begin to guesstimate what it was costing them each month. All she knew was it was a lot. She scolded herself for not becoming more involved in their finances. She had trusted Robert implicitly. Not anymore.

Despite having made it to the top of her field, no one in Hollywood stayed there. No one. Eventually, the deals would taper off. The coveted roles would be offered to younger, prettier, barely out of their teens women like Jillian.

Robert was already working on his next protégé, securing small roles for his assistant, which would transition into bigger roles.

Harlow, so caught up in her troubles, suddenly found herself at her mother’s grave. If only Ginger was still alive, to give her daughter advice, comfort her and let her know everything would work out.

A light breeze rustled through the trees. She could almost hear her mother’s soft voice. You are home now, Harlow. Let the island heal you. Be strong.

Mort’s ears perked up. He moved closer to her wheelchair and let out a low whimper. He had heard it too. “Y-you heard Mom,” she stammered. “She’s here, Mort.”

Harlow lingered, hoping her mother would whisper to her heart again, but was met with a calm quiet.

She clasped her hands. “I’m going to find out what happened to you. As soon as I finish my project in Vancouver, I’m coming back. Dad and I are going to figure out how the fire started.”

A gentle breeze tousled the tips of Harlow’s hair, caressing her cheek. “I love you Mom.” She blew a kiss into the air and slowly made her way out of the garden.

Back home, she and Mort returned to her room. Harlow drifted off to sleep almost immediately. For the first time in a long time, she slept through the night. No dreams, no tossing and turning. Rest like she hadn’t had in years.

She woke early the next morning to Mort licking her hand, his way of telling her it was time to get up. “I hear you. It’s going to be a busy day.”

Making her way to the bathroom, Harlow pulled herself from her wheelchair, almost bursting into tears when she could stand on both feet without being in excruciating pain. “Mort, I’m doing it,” she said excitedly.

“Watch this.” She took a tentative step sideways and then back to the center of the sink.

Thrilled with the thought she was truly on the mend, Harlow flew through her morning routine. The extra effort took its toll and by the time she finished, she sank back into the wheelchair. It was a start. Every step forward was a win.

The sound of voices echoed as she exited her bedroom. Vic and her father were in the kitchen sipping coffee and munching on donuts.

“There’s the sleepyhead,” her father teased.

“I could get used to this life of kicking back.” A slow smile spread across Harlow’s face. “Guess what?”

“Robert already called you this morning,” Vic guessed.

“No. I mean, maybe he has.” She pushed herself to a standing position. Despite her legs wobbling, it felt like a major victory. “Ta-da.”

Her father broke into a spontaneous round of applause. “Way to go, Harlow.”

“It won’t be long now,” she beamed.

“I’m proud of you. That’s my girl,” he said. “Vic and I were discussing breakfast. We have a few boxes of breakfast sandwiches. Why don’t we make something quick and easy?”

“Sounds good to me.” Harlow started to set her phone on the table when she realized her aunt had sent a text.

Eryn and I are on the road and should be home by eleven thirty, giving me enough time to whip up a special lunch for Caleb.

“Great,” Harlow groaned. “I forgot Caleb Jackson will be here for lunch.”

“Caleb’s a good guy. I think you need to cut him some slack.”

“I don’t need to cut him anything because I don’t plan on being here.” Harlow tapped Vic’s arm. “Let’s go into town. I’ll show you around.”

“Who is Caleb Jackson?”

“Harlow’s ex,” David said.

“Childhood sweetheart, who is no longer someone I care to associate with,” Harlow replied in her best “I’m-not-interested,” voice.

“Ah, so you dig this guy,” Vic teased.

“I do not.” Harlow rolled her eyes. “Please, do not encourage my father. Anyway, I plan to make myself scarce.”

Ring. Harlow’s cell phone rang.

Thinking it was Robert, she started to dismiss the call when she realized it wasn’t her husband, but Nigel Beckworth’s office. “It’s Attorney Beckworth’s office.”

She promptly answered. “Harlow Wynn speaking.”

“Hello, Ms. Wynn.” A loud, booming voice echoed. “My name is Nigel Beckworth. You left a message for me this weekend.”

“I did. My father, David Wynn, has used your firm in the past and suggested I call you. I’m hoping you can help.”

“I will certainly try. Before we get started, your name sounds familiar.”

Harlow told him who she was.

“My assistant will be absolutely ecstatic to discover she was right, and it was you who called,” he joked. “What sort of help do you need?”

Harlow explained her situation. She didn’t hold back, filling the man in on what she’d discovered.

About her canceled credit cards and the empty main bank accounts.

She even told him the home security cameras had been disabled.

“To sum it up, it appears my husband, who is also my manager, is doing some shady stuff.”

“I see. The fact he’s your manager is cause for concern.”

“You’re telling me. Based on what I’ve learned from very reliable sources, he’s telling people I’m mentally unstable and hinting at the fact he thinks I caused my car accident.”

“To petition for guardianship,” Nigel said.

“That’s what we’re thinking.”

“Where are you now, Ms. Wynn?”

“At Wynn Harbor Inn, my father’s home on Mackinac Island. I need a topnotch attorney to help me sort through this, and I’m hoping to hire you.”

“I’ll need to do some preliminary work on my end,” Nigel said. “To get a grasp on what we’re up against. I’m assuming this means you’ll want to file for divorce.”

Divorce. The word made Harlow’s stomach churn.

She had never married Robert, thinking someday they would part ways, but here they were.

Not by choice, at least not on her end. However, her gut told her he already had one foot out the door and was gearing up for the next phase of his life—without her.

She could be proactive or hang back and let him make the next move, although Robert had already made several moves, all without Harlow’s knowledge. “It’s looking that way. Our primary address is in California.”

“I have a colleague who practices in California.” Nigel gave her the name. Harlow wrote it down, making a mental note to check him out. “I can have him draw up the paperwork.”

“Yes. Please.”

“I’m sure you’re aware that because of your high-profile career, it’s possible you’ll get dragged through the mud,” Nigel warned.

“I wouldn’t doubt it. On the plus side, I have a very lucrative movie project starting in a few weeks. Robert will want to keep the messy part on the down-low, at least for the time being.”

“Which could work to our advantage.”

Harlow could hear tapping on the other end of the line. “So, will you help me? I need to prepare for the worst-case scenario.”

“It won’t be cheap. Multiple issues need to be addressed.”

“I’m not looking for cheap. Although, I’m concerned about the money missing from the main account.”

“We can remedy that rather quickly,” Nigel said. “I’ll need your contact information along with the bank information. We’ll sign an agreement. A retainer will be required.”

Harlow mentally ran the figures through her head. She should have ample funds available for the retainer. “Send me the paperwork.”

Nigel promised to have it over by the end of the day.

Harlow had a hard time hearing what he said next. Another call was coming in. She glanced at the screen. It was Robert. “Robert keeps calling me. Should I talk to him?”

“It’s entirely up to you. What do you think he wants?”

“To give me an earful.”

“Do you want to listen to an earful?” Nigel asked.

“Not really.”

“Then don’t take his call. Unless you’re concerned he’ll show up on your doorstep.”

“He already has. Knowing Robert, he wouldn’t hesitate to do it again.”

“I suggest you not engage in verbal altercations. Perhaps communicating via text or email would be best,” the attorney suggested.

“Good idea.” Harlow thanked him. She ended the call and waved her phone in the air. “Nigel Beckworth and his team are going to help me sort through this mess.”

Her phone rang again. Robert was back at it. She sucked in a breath and typed out a text. Hello, Robert. What do you want?