Page 18 of Birdie by the Bay (Wynn Harbor Inn #2)

“It’s a monthly payment for the last six months to Malibu Hills.”

“Malibu Hills is a swanky townhouse community.” Harlow thanked the bank representative and ended the call.

Before logging out of the business checking account, she took a screenshot and forwarded it to her email. Jillian lived in Malibu Hills. She’d even bragged about it, showing Harlow and Robert pictures of her new home right after she moved in.

With a few quick clicks, Harlow confirmed her suspicions. She and Robert were paying for Jillian’s townhome. “Good news, everyone,” she said sarcastically. “It looks like Robert and I are paying for Jillian’s swanky Malibu Hills townhome.”

She glanced at the calendar. Based on the entries, it was almost time for another rent payment. Harlow grabbed her phone and dialed the bank’s number again. Within minutes, she had stopped payment for the next month’s rent.

“I wish I could see the look on Robert’s face when he realizes Jillian’s rent wasn’t paid.” Harlow pressed her hand to her forehead. “I’m such a fool.”

“You trusted your husband,” Aunt Birdie said. “Like any normal married person would do.”

“I almost hate to keep digging. My gut tells me there’s more. Tomorrow can’t get here soon enough,” Harlow said. “The sooner Attorney Beckworth’s associate in California can get the ball rolling and papers filed, the better.”

*****

Harlow spent the rest of her day gathering pertinent information. She’d already assembled the details on their assets—accounts, properties, retirement information, anything she could think of.

Sifting through the years of their marriage saddened Harlow. It made her sad but also angry. Robert had used her, and he would do the same to Jillian.

He would keep her around until the next big star arrived on scene and then it would be wash, rinse, repeat. Along the way, he would trample over the women he professed to love.

Although Harlow’s marriage was ending, she’d gained something in return.

Rebuilding her relationship with her father, along with finding out who she could count on during the tough times.

Eryn, her dad, Aunt Birdie, Vic and even Janice, her publicist. Perhaps there were others.

For all Harlow knew, Robert had let them go and warned them not to contact her.

“Hey.” Her father stuck his head around the corner. “Someone is here to see you. Are you at a good stopping point?”

“I finished getting everything Nigel asked for.” Harlow tidied up the papers and set them off to the side. “Who is it?”

“You’ll have to come with me to find out.” Her father waited by the bedroom door for Harlow to join him. “You’ve been working hard. It’s time for you to take a break.”

Reaching the front door, she found Lottie standing on the porch, holding a bouquet of fresh flowers. “Hello, Harlow.”

“Hey, Lottie.”

“Your father mentioned you were a little down in the dumps. These are for you.” She held out the bouquet.

“How thoughtful. Thank you.” Harlow could barely wrap her hands around the bountiful arrangement–orange Asiatic lilies, pink carnations, butterscotch daisies, yellow roses and orange berries. “They’re beautiful. You picked these from the gardens?”

“Only a few.” Lottie pinched her thumb and index fingers together. “I have a friend who helped me with the arrangement.”

Harlow admired the base, a pink porcelain teapot. “It’s adorable. Please thank her for me.”

“Why don’t you thank her yourself? It’s our girl’s night out—more of an arts and crafts get-together. I’m hoping you’ll join us.”

“To make something creative?” Harlow asked. “I’m all thumbs, not to mention I have a broken thumb.”

“Talent is not a requirement, only a willingness to have fun.”

“Lottie has a close-knit group of friends,” her father explained.

Harlow hesitated. On the one hand, she desperately needed a mental break. “Unfortunately, I tend to be a disruption. I would hate to ruin your night.”

“Disruption, smuption.” Lottie flicked her wrist. “Come with me just this once. If it’s not your thing, I’ll never bug you to go again.”

“You’re not bugging me now. Thank you for thinking of me.” Harlow wheeled her way to her room, grabbed a jacket, and caught up with Lottie on the sidewalk.

Vic emerged from the cottage when he saw the women. “It’s a girl’s night out. Feel free to hang out with Dad.”

“He loves to play cards,” Lottie said.

“So does Vic,” Harlow said.

“Do you need me to go with you?”

Lottie shook her head. “I have a horse and buggy waiting for us at the curb.”

“Fancy,” Harlow teased.

“David doesn’t like me wandering around the streets alone at night, even though I’m sure I would be perfectly safe.”

Vic patted his pocket. “I’ll have my phone handy if you need me.”

The women reached the front gate where Lottie introduced Harlow to their driver. “This is Marty. He’s my go-to guy for craft night.”

“It’s nice to meet you, Ms. Wynn.”

She held out her hand. “Please call me Harlow.”

“Harlow.” He helped her into the seat before making quick work of folding her wheelchair and stowing it in the back.

“Cards and casserole night with Dad, craft night with the girls,” Harlow said. “You stay busy.”

“Very. When I moved here, I didn’t know a soul. I’m a little chatty and made friends fairly easily.”

“Lucky you.”

Lottie’s brows knitted. “You don’t have friends?”

“I have Eryn. Other than Vic, she’s the only one I would consider a true friend. The rest are acquaintances or colleagues. Hollywood isn’t known for fostering friendships.”

“You mean Hollyweird?” Lottie curled her lip. “I’m sorry, but Hollywood is not a place I would want to live.”

“It has its disadvantages.” During the trip Harlow was content to let Lottie do the talking. She shared stories about living in England, growing up in the countryside, and her eventual move to the States.

Harlow interrupted. “If you don’t mind me asking, why did you move all the way over here?”

“Love. I fell in love with an American. He swept me off my feet.” Lottie’s expression grew distant. “We never had children. He died years ago. Unfortunately, neither of us was good at handling money. To put it bluntly, I found myself flat broke.”

“Here in Michigan?”

“Not Michigan. We lived in Indiana.” Lottie told her she saw an ad for a job on the island. “The Grand Hotel was looking for a gardener. Of course, when I researched Mackinac Island and learned about the grand and glorious hotel, I couldn’t resist. The rest is history.”

“Do you still work at the hotel?”

“I work at the hotel and at Wynn Harbor Inn helping your father. Both jobs give me enough to pay the bills.”

“Have you ever considered returning home to England?”

“The thought crossed my mind a few years ago, but everyone is gone now. I have no family to speak of. Mackinac Island is home. My friends, David, they’re my family. I can’t imagine living anywhere else.”

“Dad could use a few friends,” Harlow joked. “I’ve heard he’s a recluse.”

“Tragedies tend to cause people to react, one way or another. Your father chose to internalize everything.”

Lottie had hit the nail on the head. David Wynn had always been an enthusiastic, jovial host. He loved guests, loved sharing Wynn Harbor Inn with others.

It was his pride and joy. He went from being an outgoing, larger-than-life personality to sour and distant.

The fire had affected him in so many ways.

Destroyed so many dreams. Created so much heartbreak.

“I’m trying to get him out of his funk. It’s a slow go, though. He’s stubborn as a mule.”

“You’re a great friend, Lottie Fletcher,” Harlow said. “Thank you for sticking with Dad.”

“You’re welcome. He might be stubborn, but he’s a good man. There aren’t too many like him around anymore.”

“They broke the mold when they made him.” Harlow shot Lottie a sly side glance. “He might never admit it, but he likes you a lot.”

“You think so? Because sometimes I get the feeling he only tolerates me for my gardening expertise.”

“He may appreciate your expertise, but he’s also fond of you.”

“Enough about me.” Lottie tugged at the collar of her blouse, clearly uncomfortable at the direction their conversation had taken. “What’s a typical day in the life of the famous Harlow Wynn like?”

“Not particularly exciting. It starts at six. I eat a light breakfast and head to my home gym for an hour of cardio mixed with weights.”

“What kind of light breakfast? You’re thin as a rail. I bet you hardly eat anything.”

“My go to is a plant-based protein shake, a boiled egg or maybe a cup of yogurt.”

Lottie grimaced. “Plant-based protein shake? What’s in it?”

“Pea, soy, hemp and a little rice.”

“Gross.” She made a gagging sound. “I bet it tastes nasty.”

“It isn’t very pleasant,” Harlow admitted. “I try to sprinkle in a little cinnamon or mint to make it more palatable.”

“I would need a lot more.”

“After my workout, I shower. Depending on my schedule, my makeup artist and hairstylist come by to get me ready for whatever. Robert usually makes an appearance by then and we go over the day.”

Lottie interrupted. “Makes an appearance?”

“He…has his own bedroom suite. We tried sleeping in the same room. I snore and it keeps him awake.”

“Hmmm.” Lottie made a clicking sound with her teeth. “Have you been tested for sleep apnea?”

“I have.”

“And?”

“They couldn’t replicate the problem,” Harlow said.

“Meaning you don’t have a snoring problem.”

“I don’t think so.”

“I see. You’re going to find out one thing quickly about me, Harlow. I don’t sugarcoat my views on things.”

“I appreciate honesty. It’s rare in my line of work. Fire away.”

“Your dad told me a little about what’s going on with your husband pressuring you and how he’s basically MIA. He sounds like a real jerk. Top-notch, top tier, top of the heap, loser.”

“You sound like Aunt Birdie.”

“We’re here, Lottie.” Marty hopped down. He grabbed Harlow’s wheelchair and set it on the sidewalk.

“What a cute shop,” Harlow gushed. “Vic and I must’ve walked right past it earlier.”

Marty made a move to help her, and she waved him away. “Thanks for the offer, but I would like to try getting down on my own.” Keeping a firm grip on the sides of the wagon, she gingerly slid to the ground.

Lottie swooped in and took her arm.

Moving at a snail’s pace, they finally reached the sidewalk, and not a moment too soon. Harlow started to falter, half falling, half diving into the wheelchair. She let out a low groan. “I made it.”

“Barely,” Lottie said.

“Tomorrow is another day.”

“Do you need me to stick around?” Marty asked.

“It won’t be necessary. Come back to pick us up at the usual time.”

“Ten it is. Don’t forget your dish. The Mackies will chase me down if you walk in empty-handed.”

“The Mackies?” Harlow echoed.

“It’s the name we gave our little group. The official title is the Magnificent Mackies.” Lottie took the dish. “Thanks, Marty. I’ll save you a plate of food.”

He scrambled back up the steps and eased onto the wooden bench seat. “Have fun.” Giving the reins a gentle nudge, he and his team of horses clip-clopped off.

Harlow spun around and studied the name etched on the glass. Noelle’s Flower Shop . Bountiful bouquets filled the front window’s flower boxes. A vibrant striped pink and white awning covered the rustic wooden door. A pale gray floral mat greeted visitors.

“Remember me mentioning my friend Noelle, who helped with your arrangement? This is her flower shop.”

“It’s adorable.”

“If you think the outside is cute, wait until you see what Noelle has done with the inside.” Lottie hurried to the door and gave it a light rap.

A shadow flitted past the curtain-covered glass panel. The door opened. Light spilled out onto the sidewalk, casting a warm glow and welcoming them.

Harlow hesitated for a fraction of a second before following Lottie over the threshold. What greeted her on the other side stopped her in her tracks.