Page 16 of Wynns of Change (Wynn Harbor Inn #3)

“I’m not sure about this whole fishing thing. I haven’t been in a dinghy in years.”

“It’s not a dinghy,” David corrected. “It’s a fishing boat.”

“Dinghy, fishing boat. It doesn’t matter. They’re the same size.” Aunt Birdie cast an anxious glance toward the shore.

The small boat started to sway, and she frantically clutched the sides. “Where are the life vests?”

“Right here.” Harlow handed her aunt a bright orange vest and helped her slip it on. “You’ll be fine. Dad’s a great fishing captain.”

“As long as he doesn’t dunk me in the water, thinking it’s funny.”

“I have a hard time believing you spent weeks on board a gigantic cruise ship, bobbing around in the ocean and now you’re afraid of a little fishing trip.”

“There’s a big difference between a cruise ship and a small boat,” Birdie insisted.

David playfully dipped his hand in the water and flicked droplets at his sister. “At fifty some degrees, you wouldn’t last long if you fell in.”

“Which means you need to be very careful not to rock the boat…literally,” she said.

“You don’t have to worry about me.” David patted Mort’s head. “This fella, on the other hand, gets a little excited when he sees a fish and has been known to dive in and try to catch it.”

Harlow wagged her finger at the pup. “No fishing without a rod,” she warned. “The water is too cold for you, too.”

“Mort knows better, but like I said, he gets excited when he sees fish.” Wearing waders clear up to his knees, David hopped out of the boat and shoved them away from shore. He climbed back in and settled on the bench seat closest to the motor.

Moving at a slow and steady pace, staying parallel to the shoreline, they skimmed across the open water, smooth as silk.

David swung the boat around in a wide circle and cut the engine. “This is the spot.”

Woof. Mort stuck his head over the side and barked loudly.

“Mort confirmed it. This is our honey hole.”

Mindful to stay in the center to keep the boat from rocking, Harlow handed out the fishing rods, hooked and baited, ready to be cast.

Birdie flicked the tip of her rod, landing it in the water a few feet away. “Your father mentioned you met with Robert earlier today. How did it go?”

“Jillian is gone, and Robert wants to reconcile.”

“I wonder why the sudden change of heart,” her aunt mused. “One day he’s ready to sign and the next he wants to get back together.”

Harlow reeled her line in and cast it out again, this time in the opposite direction. “My guess is he sees the writing on the wall. He knows that when our agreement ends, I’m moving on and not looking back.”

“He doesn’t want to lose out on the big bucks, so why not stay married, at least on paper, and continue to reap the benefits,” Birdie said.

“Exactly. He must think I’m an idiot.”

“I wouldn’t string him along, keeping his hopes up and dragging the divorce out,” her father said. “The sooner you nip it in the bud, the better.”

“I agree. I’m booking a flight to LA tomorrow, to retake one of the movie scenes. While I’m there, I’ll stop by the Malibu house and pack up what I want before it goes on the market. There’s not much, just a few photos and mementos. It shouldn’t take long.”

“Tomorrow you said?” Aunt Birdie propped her fishing rod on the side of the boat and pulled her cell phone from her pocket. “I’m heading west to Arizona. I could go with you and then fly on to Phoenix.”

“That’s a great idea,” David said.

“I appreciate the offer, but it’s not necessary.” Harlow waved dismissively. “Robert is in New York. He won’t even be around.”

“You don’t want me to tag along?” Birdie’s crestfallen expression was genuine. She wasn’t making the offer because she felt she needed to, but because she wanted to.

“Of course I do, but you’ve already done so much. Losing out on the last leg of your world cruise, flying to New York with Eryn to spy on Robert, hopping on a plane and flying to Vancouver to give me moral support.”

“No one twisted my arm. Besides, I wouldn’t mind checking out your luxury property before it hits the market. I bet it’s beautiful.”

“Beautiful, flashy, a showpiece with zero warmth or homey feel, but if you want to go with me, I would love the company.”

Birdie slipped her reading glasses on. She grew quiet, tapping the top of her phone. “I’ve already found tickets. We can take a hopper to Detroit, board a jet to LAX and…boom! We’ll be at your place in half an hour.”

“LA traffic is the pits. You might as well double the travel time.”

Birdie bought the tickets online and as soon as she received confirmation, Harlow reimbursed her via Venmo. “Thanks Aunt Birdie. You’re the best.”

Her aunt waved her phone in the air. “It’s amazing what you can do with these small handheld devices.”

“Mort and I will stay here and hold down the fort.” David tugged on his fishing line. “I think I got a bite.”

The pup scrambled to the other side of the boat and peered into the water.

“Judging by how it’s pulling on the line, it’s a biggie,” he said excitedly.

Harlow held her breath, watching her father reel the fish in.

Mort lunged forward, clamping down on the plump trout.

“Hey.” He tried freeing the fish, but Mort wasn’t having it. He held on for dear life, giving David a “don’t-even-think-about-taking-this-from-me” look.

“Mort’s not giving up,” Harlow giggled. “He thinks the fish is his.”

“I might as well let him have it.” David wagged his finger at the pup. “The next one is mine.”

Despite their early success, the afternoon waned, and they only got a few bites. Calling it a day, David checked to make sure the gear was secure, and they headed to shore.

Back at the cottage, Harlow contacted the movie director’s office and scheduled her retake. After ending the call, she sent a quick text to her aunt, coordinating the second half of their flights—Harlow heading home to Michigan while her aunt flew to Phoenix.

The plan was going smoothly…a little too smoothly. What if Robert decided to fly back to Malibu early, and she ran into him at the house? At least Aunt Birdie would be with her, acting as a buffer.

Her aunt and father were right. The sooner she let Robert know she wasn’t interested in reconciling, the better.

*****

Harlow and Aunt Birdie left early, before daybreak the following morning. The commuter plane took off on schedule, which meant they arrived in Detroit for their connecting flight right on time.

Harlow hadn’t stepped foot inside the Malibu property since her accident, when her father and Eryn had helped her pack up what she needed for her stay on Mackinac Island.

The commercial flight was uneventful, the complete opposite of the LA traffic. As anticipated, it was horrendous. The women sat in the rental car they’d picked up at the airport for long stretches, barely moving.

“How do you deal with this traffic?” her aunt muttered. “It’s sheer madness.”

“I avoid it as much as possible. Unfortunately, because we booked a flight on such short notice, our options were limited.”

“You can have it,” Birdie sighed. “This is for the birds.”

Finally, they reached Malibu Hills, the exclusive enclave movie stars, ultra-wealthy Californians, including tech industry execs, called home.

Reaching the security gate, Harlow entered the code. The gate swung open, allowing them to continue up the winding driveway.

Aunt Birdie let out a low whistle. “You have an impressive chunk of real estate here.”

“By necessity. It gives the security guards a head start in stopping unwanted visitors from reaching the house. We’re here.”

First things first. They grabbed their carry-on bags and climbed the steps.

Using her e-key, Harlow unlocked the door. She stepped inside, bracing for a rollercoaster of emotions. Instead, she felt strangely detached, as if she was entering someone else’s home.

It looked exactly the same. Ostentatious, over-the-top works of art adorned the walls. Many of the pieces were ones she and Robert had purchased during their world travels.

“This place looks like a museum,” her aunt said.

“Translation for not cozy, warm or welcoming.”

“It reminds me of your New York apartment, but on a larger scale. Let me guess…Robert handled the decorating.”

“Yep.” Harlow wheeled her bag away from the door. “Selma, our housekeeper, is waiting for us. She’s probably in the kitchen.”

With Aunt Birdie trailing behind, Harlow trekked down the long hall to the family room. On the opposite side was the massive kitchen, a state-of-the-art showpiece the couple had hardly ever used.

Clank. A dull clanking echoed from the pantry.

“Selma?”

A small woman with dark hair, pulled back in a bun, appeared. “Harlow.” She hurried across the kitchen. “I’m so glad you’re home.”

Harlow eased her suitcase off to the side and gave her a warm hug. “It’s good to see you.”

Selma stepped back, holding her at arm’s length. “You look well, healthy with a nice glow, like you’ve been getting lots of fresh air and sunshine.”

“We went fishing yesterday in my dad’s boat.” She introduced her aunt. “We’ll be here for a couple of days to pack up my belongings.”

Selma sobered. “I’m sad to hear about the sale. I will miss you.”

“I’ll miss you too.” Selma had worked full time for the couple for several years. She was one of Harlow’s favorite employees, having met her family and even her grandchildren.

Selma was a loyal employee and one of her staunchest supporters.

She’d finally phoned Harlow a few weeks after the accident, apologizing and telling her what Harlow had already suspected, that Robert had given her strict orders not to call.

Despite being warned, she went against his wishes and tracked Harlow down.

“Robert, Mr. Barbetz told me you are selling. I’m sorry to hear about your divorce, although I…” Her voice trailed off.

“You what?” Harlow prompted.

“I’m not surprised,” Selma blurted out. “Between you and me, he wasn’t always nice to you.”

“No, he wasn’t. I only wish I could take you with me.”

“My family is here,” Selma said. “I may have found another position. I was hoping you could write a letter of recommendation.”

“Absolutely. Of course. I’ll put one together before I leave,” Harlow promised.

“Thank you. Mr. Barbetz has given me time to find new employment. He said you would be okay with me staying on until then.”

“Yes. Even longer, if needed, or at least until the property sells,” Harlow said. “Speaking of which, is there anything I need to be aware of, repairs or issues needing attention before the listing agent shows it?”

“No. Now that Jillian McElroy has taken her stuff and cleaned out the office, it’s tidy and ready to show to potential buyers.”

“Robert told me he let her go.”

“Let her go?” The housekeeper laughed out loud. “More like the other way around. Jillian waltzed in here a couple of days ago, packed up her stuff, and left. You should’ve seen the look on Mr. Barbetz’s face when she told him she was quitting.”