Harlow was halfway home from her lunch meeting with Robert when her cell phone rang. She steered her bike onto the side of the road and dug it out of her coat pocket. It was Caleb Jackson. She removed her glove and tapped the answer button. “Hey, Caleb.”
“Hey, Harlow. Got a minute?”
“Sure. I’m on my way back to Wynn Harbor Inn.”
“Jim Cook, the fire investigator, finally forwarded his preliminary report.”
“About Wynn Harbor Inn’s fire?”
“Yes.”
“Good or bad?”
“I would rather tell you in person,” Caleb said. “I already talked to your dad. He has time to meet with me, but he wasn’t sure about you. He mentioned you had a meeting.”
“With my now ex-husband,” Harlow said. “It’s over, and I’m free as a bird.”
“Cool. I’ll meet you at the house.”
“See you soon.” After ending the call, Harlow cut down a side street, taking the back way home, all the while mulling over her conversation with Robert. Something was up. He wouldn’t hang around Mackinac Island unless he had a reason to.
She pulled off the road again and tapped out a quick text to the Mackies, asking her friends if they were available for anemergency meeting. Texts flew back and forth. The group finally agreed to meet at Peyton Dyson’s fudge shop at four.
With the meeting time set, Harlow picked up the pace, pedaling as fast as she dared back to Wynn Harbor Inn. She rounded the bend and found the fire department’s official vehicle parked at the curb. The driver’s side door swung open. Caleb emerged. “You have a fat bike.”
“Fattirebike.” She patted the handle. “Steady Betty doesn’t like to be called fat.”
“Steady Betty, huh?” Caleb grinned. “I guess it’s better than being called a Sloppy Jalopy.”
“Right?” Harlow laughed out loud, a warm tingle starting at the top of her head, going all the way to the tips of her toes.
She looked away, silently reminding herself that her former beau was, or at least had been, dating Cheyenne. Flirting with another woman’s man was sinking to a level Harlow refused to go to, even if Caleb made her heart pitter-patter like no one else had ever done. “You brought your backpack.”
“And my computer, along with the file Jim Cook sent me, which is the reason for my visit.” Caleb held the gate for Harlow and her bike. “Thanks for meeting me on such short notice.”
“Dad and I could’ve met you at the station.”
“Actually, it worked out best for me to come here. Jim may have uncovered a clue. I offered my assistance and am here to confirm it.”
Harlow perked up. “A clue?”
“Don’t get too excited,” he warned. “at least not yet. He’s only in the preliminary stages of his investigation.”
“Assisting as fire chief or as a family friend?”
Caleb abruptly stopped. “Does it matter?”
“No, I mean, either way, Dad and I will gladly take all the help we can get.”
“You’re also paying for the investigation,” he reminded her.
“Money well spent if we’re able to figure out what happened.”
They reached the second gate, the one leading to the family’s cottage. Always the gentleman, Caleb held it open, clearing the path for Harlow to steer “Betty” down the sidewalk. She lifted the bike onto the porch and propped it against the railing.
The front door flew open, and Mort bounded out. He ran right past Harlow, making a beeline for Caleb.
“Hey, buddy.” He knelt next to the pup, giving him a rubdown.
