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

“That was a blast.” Eryn playfully nudged her bestie. “Thanks for letting us fly back to Vancouver to help you celebrate and wrap things up.”

“Thank you for coming.” Harlow tilted her head. “You actually like the city.”

“Sure. It’s a cool place. Very green and gorgeous. Plus, I loved being by the water.”

“It’s the complete opposite of New York, where it’s all concrete and skyscrapers.” Aunt Birdie, who was seated on the other side of Harlow, leaned forward, peering out the plane’s window. “As much as I enjoyed our quick visit, I’m happy to say goodbye to Vancouver and hello to Mackinac Island.”

“Me too.” A small sigh escaped Harlow’s lips.

Home. She lay awake for half the night, excited to be heading back to Michigan.

It had kept her going during the long days on the set.

Returning to the idyllic island and catching up on some much-needed rest at Wynn Harbor Inn helped her push through to the end.

For the most part, the movie was “in the bag.” She’d fulfilled her contract. Nigel’s colleague in California was finalizing the papers. Robert, at least by outward appearances, was on board.

Despite the positive outlook, Harlow wasn’t kidding herself. This was only the first step. The couple would still have to hash out several issues including how to handle their properties. The condo in Palm Beach, the Malibu mansion, the swanky apartment in New York.

Untangling their personal and business assets would take time. At least they didn’t have children, forced to sort through a messy custody battle.

“A penny for your thoughts,” Eryn said.

“I was thinking about Robert and how I’m hoping things go smoothly.”

Her aunt arched her eyebrows. “I hate to be Debbie Downer, but I can’t envision him being agreeable or fair.”

“If he wants to fight, the lawyers win,” Harlow said. “The faster and smoother we part ways, the better.”

“Well, I hope you’re right.” Aunt Birdie pointedly changed the subject, filling Harlow in on what she’d missed during her weeks away. “The fall colors are absolutely stunning.”

“I can’t wait to see them.” A wistful smile played across Harlow’s face.

Despite fall being a busy season and Mackinac Island’s weekends filled with “leaf peepers,” it offered pockets of peace and quiet.

It also meant the island’s tourist season was winding down.

“I’m so looking forward to a few months off. ”

“Before deciding what new project you’ll take on,” Eryn reminded her.

“I have a couple I’m looking at. Robert is still hammering out a few of the details.” At least Harlow hoped he was. She quickly dismissed thoughts of him sabotaging her career. It would be in his best interest to negotiate the best possible deal, regardless of the project.

The flight from Vancouver went smoothly. Boarding the plane from Detroit to the island meant a long trek from one end of the massive airport to a smaller section, one that accommodated commuter planes.

As opposed to the longer flight, the last leg of their journey dragged on. The closer they got to Mackinac Island, the longer it seemed to take, as if the pilot was intentionally going slow, knowing Harlow was on pins and needles, eager for her first glimpse of the island.

Finally, he announced they were starting their descent. Harlow slid the window shade up and peered out.

The plane circled around, giving her a brief glimpse of the bustling harbor. Shifting her gaze to the left, she squinted her eyes, barely able to make out the outline of Wynn Harbor Inn, or what was left of it.

Harlow’s throat clogged. During those grueling days on set, twelve to fourteen-hour days of working nonstop, her thoughts would drift to the place her heart yearned to go…home.

At least every other day, she chatted with her father on the phone, checking in, reassuring him that, although she struggled with certain strenuous activities, the filming team worked hard to accommodate her, and Harlow was given extra time to rest in between takes.

All in all, it was a successful project, one she was proud of and knew her fans would love.

Aunt Birdie patted her hand. “It won’t be long now.”

“The colors are incredible.” Their plane dipped down, giving her a panoramic view of Michigan’s fall colors in all their glory, what visitors from near and far came to see. And no island put on a better show than Mackinac Island.

Within minutes, they were on the ground and exiting the plane. Harlow couldn’t help but compare her previous return to this one, when she’d been unable to walk and needed a wheelchair to get around.

Through the terminal and to the baggage claim, they went. The trio stood at the carousel, waiting for Harlow’s large piece of luggage to appear. As soon as it did, they exited through the main entrance and gathered at the curb.

“Do we need to track down a carriage?”

Eryn tapped her pocket. “I called for a ride. The carriage should be here at any moment. There it is.”

Marty, Harlow’s friend, appeared on the horizon. As he drew closer, she noticed a wide, beaming smile on his freckled face. He halted his team of horses and quickly sprang from the bench seat. “Sorry if I’m late.”

“You’re right on time,” Aunt Birdie said.

Marty loaded their bags and gave Aunt Birdie a hand. Eryn was next, leaving Harlow for last. “How’s Lottie?”

“As busy as ever. She and the Mackies have been cooking up a storm.”

“I can’t wait to hang out with them.”

“They missed you.” Marty cast her a sheepish look. “We all missed you.”

“I missed you too. Thanks for picking us up.” Harlow took the seat next to her friend, peppering him with questions about what she’d missed. Although it had only been weeks, it felt like years.

Marty dropped Eryn off first. He climbed back into his seat and flicked the reins, signaling for the horses to keep moving.

Aunt Birdie leaned forward and tapped his shoulder. “Do you have time to make a brief stop at the spot you took me to the other day?”

“Over by the point?”

“Yes.”

“Your wish is my command.” Marty directed his team toward the right. They cut through the center of the island, returning to M-185, the main road circling the island. Over eight miles long, the winding stretch offered stunning views of Lake Huron and the Mackinac Bridge.

Instead of veering left toward Wynn Harbor Inn, Marty made another right, taking them to a more remote end of the island. Tucked in between, Harlow glimpsed several majestic homes perched atop the hills, partially hidden by the soaring white pines and thickets of white cedar trees.

Aunt Birdie shaded her eyes. “It’s sad to see some of these places already closed up for the season.”

“If I owned one of those houses, I would leave it open year round.” Harlow pointed out a Victorian rambler, nestled high above, regal and imposing, looking down on all who traveled along the scenic lakeshore.

“Growing up, I used to make a game out of trying to figure out who lived in the houses on the hills.”

“Wealthy families from Chicago or Detroit, maybe even Grand Rapids, building their summer homes on this gorgeous piece of paradise,” her aunt replied.

“I always wondered what they did, how they made enough money to afford fabulous summer cottages.”

“You’re right up there with them,” Aunt Birdie pointed out. “You could easily afford one of the hillside homes.”

“Not yet.” Harlow sucked in a breath, thinking about Robert. “At least not until the divorce is finalized.”

Her aunt tilted her head. “You mentioned selling the properties you currently own.”

“Which were hand-selected by Robert. After it’s all over and the debts are settled, my plan is to buy something that suits me. Not a big showy mansion, but a cozy cottage.”

“Where?”

Harlow had given the matter some thought.

She would need a home base in California, a small-ish apartment in LA, close to Hollywood, or maybe close to the water.

Nothing fancy. A place she could lock and leave.

One that was updated so she wouldn’t have to worry about maintenance or upkeep, yet spacious enough for her and Vic.

On-site security would also be on the list, giving her added protection from overzealous fans and paparazzi.

But most important to Harlow was a place she could call home.

Would it be on Mackinac Island? Her father insisted many times he had plenty of room for her at Wynn Harbor Inn, which was true, at least for now.

But if he fixed the inn up and reopened it as an income property, he would need the extra cash generated by the cottage to recoup his investment.

He also had partners, Brett and Morgan Easton.

They would have a say in what he could or couldn’t do.

Harlow appreciated his generous offer, but her heart craved a place of her own. Not hers and Roberts, or her father’s home, but her very own.

“You have time to figure it out,” Birdie said. “I would love to see you settle down on the island, which ties into where we’re going.”

“We’re here.” Marty made a clicking sound with his teeth, gently tugging on the reins to halt the horses. He locked the brakes, hopped down, and hurried to give Birdie and Harlow a hand.

“Thanks, Marty.” Goosebumps prickled Harlow’s arms, and she got the distinct feeling she’d been there before…not cruising past on a bike or by carriage, but a sense of familiarity. “I’ve been here before.”

“You have,” Aunt Birdie confirmed. “Do you remember anything about it?”

“Maybe.” She tiptoed through the tall grass, the feeling of having been there before growing with every step she took. A flashback…a memory popped into her head, of Harlow running across the yard toward a tiny cottage in the back. “There’s a small cottage on this property.”

“There is.”

Harlow spun around. “We owned this land.”

“Your parents bought it years ago, when you were very young, before your grandparents became ill. Ginger and David sold it and moved to Wynn Harbor Inn to take over the business.” Aunt Birdie linked arms with Harlow. “Would you like to look around, to take a stroll down memory lane?”

“Look around?” It suddenly dawned on Harlow why her aunt had brought her here.