Old Mort spent hours at Aunt Birdie’s temporary abode, the cottage next door to the one Harlow and David lived in, tinkering with the bits and pieces, all of which her aunt claimed would be well worth it in the end. In fact, she was certain the pup would win the best-dressed costume contest and snag the coveted pup prize.
Family friend and driver Marty, along with Harlow’s father and aunt, were riding in the parade and had invited her to join them. On the one hand, she thought it would be fun, but on the other, she suspected she might become an unnecessary distraction when the focus should be on the pets and all the hard work the islanders had put into creating the fun event.
“I’m still undecided.”
“I’m sure Noelle will save an extra spot if you want to sit on the sidelines with me,” Lottie said.
“To be honest, I think sitting this one out is the best plan.”
After Lottie and Eryn left, David went to check on his fishing “honey hole” and track down Mort, who hadn’t returned, leaving Aunt Birdie and Harlow behind.
“Well?” Her aunt dusted her hands. “Now that the divorce is final, I wouldn’t mind taking a peek at Lighthouse Lane.”
“I was thinking the same.” Harlow had been champing at the bit to tour the property again but held off, not wanting to jinx herself. She’d even avoided riding by. Despite steering clear, she’d monitored the online listing each week, and each week, she was relieved to find the property was still for sale.
The sellers had dropped the price a hundred bucks here and a hundred there, but only by small increments. As others had pointed out, real estate rarely sold during the winter months. Bad news for the sellers but good news for Harlow because now she was free to purchase the property and Robert couldn’t touch it.
The Malibu mansion, Palm Beach condo and New York City apartment were all under contract for a tidy chunk of change…more than what the couple had purchased them for. The profits would be split evenly between them, similar to what had happened to the money in their joint bank accounts.
The only assets not divided were their retirement accounts, both with balances of almost equal value after adding their annual contribution, which meant it was a wash. Despite splitting the assets, Harlow remained a wealthy woman. The new deal she was getting ready to sign would add even more money to her current portfolio.
Regardless of Robert’s faults, he was a savvy businessman, and the deal he cut was a good one.
“Let me go grab my phone.” Harlow ran to her room and grabbed her phone. She noticed several new messages, all from Robert, with each one sounding slightly more desperate than the last.
Along with the messages were missed calls. She checked her watch. It had been less than an hour since he’d texted over the contract.
Her phone rang. She dismissed his call.
“Is everything okay?” Aunt Birdie appeared in the doorway.
“Robert is blowing up my phone. If you don’t mind, I’m going to go over the contract and sign it so he’ll leave me alone.”
“I’m in no hurry. Take your time.”
Harlow clicked on the link and skimmed through the mumbo-jumbo, all standard legal terms. The important part was at the end—the add-ons. She read each one, line by line. After confirming all was in order, she electronically signed and sent it back.
A nanosecond later, Robert replied in all caps, as if he was shouting. FINALLY. THANK YOU.
Harlow laughed out loud.
“What’s so funny?”
“Robert was having a meltdown. It would almost be worth it to see the look on his face. He probably wore a hole in the carpet from pacing.” Harlow slid her phone into her pocket and followed her aunt to the door. “Lighthouse Lane has power although I’m sure the heat is turned down.”
“Meaning bring my warm gloves, a scarf and hat,” her aunt said. “Shall we take the sled?”
As soon as the first flakes of winter snow arrived, Aunt Birdie had purchased a top of the line snowmobile, a two-seater with an extra storage rack in the back, similar to the one Harlow had ordered for her father for Christmas, and couldn’t wait to surprise him with.
After bundling up in warm clothing, the two climbed on, and she fired up the engine. With helmets firmly in place, Birdie steered the sled through the gate and onto the street.
Harlow, familiar with her aunt’s need for speed, tightened her grip, preparing for takeoff. Down the street and around the bend they flew.
She craned her neck, gazing out across Lake Huron, the shoreline blanketed in a crisp clean layer of fresh snow. They passed another snowmobile heading in the opposite direction.
Because of her aunt’s heavy hand, they arrived at Lighthouse Lane within minutes. A wisp of smoke curled up from the rooftop, twirling and spinning in the air before evaporating.
“Someone has been keeping up with clearing the driveway.” Aunt Birdie turned onto the driveway and cruised to the side door.
