Could she adjust her mindset and become willing to learn from those around her? Only time would tell.
Chapter 21
Harlow called Mort for a brisk walk around Wynn Harbor Inn. She couldn’t stop thinking about breakfast with her friends and had to admit deep down she was shocked at the idea of Cheyenne and Robert hooking up.
On the flip side, if she really thought about it, they were cut from the same cloth with similar personalities…selfish, self-centered, and materialistic.
Who knew what Robert had said to Cheyenne to entice her, to convince her she had what it took to become the next big screen star. He’d done the same for Harlow and delivered, in spades. If he could do it once, he could do it again.
Perhaps he saw something in her—a spark, the magic moviegoers were drawn to.
“Wouldn’t that be something,” Harlow told the pup. “If Robert turned Cheyenne Clifton into a household name.”
Mort slowed and veered off to the side to sniff a set of small tracks in the snow. On closer inspection, Harlow could see they belonged to an animal, maybe a snowshoe hare or even a squirrel.
“C’mon. Let’s keep moving.” Harlow shivered, clutching the edges of her collar to ward off the bitter cold. Despite the frigid temps, she made a point to appreciate the natural beauty of their winter wonderland.
She strained to hear sounds…the wind whistling through the trees, the clippety-clop of the horses’ hooves—but it was quiet and still, as if the entire island was in a deep slumber, all tucked in for the long winter.
The island’s workhorses and drays were few and far between, with most of the majestic beasts having been transported to the mainland for the winter where food and shelter was plentiful, versus being stuck on the island where incoming supplies were at the mercy of the weather and limited flights.
Supplies were also delivered by snowmobilers who arrived via the ice bridge, formed when the Straits of Mackinac froze over, creating a natural “bridge” connecting the mainland. Harlow had never been brave enough to take the ice bridge, having heard horror stories about the ice cracking and drivers almost falling through into the deep, dark water.
Clearing the tree-lined street, the late morning sun beamed down on the wintry scene, dancing off the snow in a blinding brilliant white.
Crossing to the other side, she and Mort struggled to plod through the snowdrifts before finally reaching the dock, now empty that Winnie was safely stored in the boathouse until spring, along with her father’s fishing boat.
Pushing through the deep snow, Mort made it all the way to the end, searching for fish if Harlow had to guess.
“What do you see, buddy?”
The pup slumped down, his front paws hanging over the edge. The tufts of fur above his eyes wiggled back and forth as he peered through the thick layers of ice.
“Those fish are either frozen solid or they swam to warmer water until the spring thaw.” She called Mort to her side.
Backtracking to the inn’s private property, they continued walking past Lottie’s gardens.
Harlow slowed when they reached the path leading to her mother’s grave. As he’d done every day since the snow started falling, David Wynn had cleared the walkway.
“Let’s go see Mom.” Harlow made her way to the gravesite, noticing the headstone was free of snow and her mother’s name and the dates clearly visible. She lowered onto the ground and crisscrossed her legs, tucking her boots beneath her. “Hey, Mom.”
Mort nudged his way in next to her and sank down. The pup placed his head on her lap, sensing her somber mood.
“I’m sorry I haven’t been by in a while.” Harlow poured out her heart, telling her mother about the divorce and how disappointed she was to have missed out on buying Lighthouse Lane. She told her about the upcoming movie deal and about the Mackies. “They’re the best…friends I never dreamed I would have. You would like them. I know you would. Eryn is one of them, but the others have only been on the island for a few years.”
She absentmindedly dusted off a clump of snow her father had missed. “We’re working on figuring out what happened the night of the fire. I promise you, Dad and I haven’t given up. Caleb…you remember Caleb Jackson. He and the fire investigator we hired seem to think someone was messing around out behind the building the night of the fire.”
Harlow rambled on about what they had found. She didn’t mention Robert and what he and Cheyenne were up to. There was no sense in stressing out over something that hadn’t even happened, at least not yet.
Mort let out a low moan.
“I’m cold too.” Harlow rolled over onto her knees and slowly stood. “I’ll be back, Mom. I love you and miss you.”
Calling Mort to her side, the two slowly made their way home, a lingering sadness filling Harlow’s heart.
The house was empty, meaning her father still hadn’t returned from running his errands. He’d been impatiently waiting for deliveries, packages that were delayed because of the recent snowstorm. She secretly suspected they were Christmas gifts.
Time was running out. The family’s Christmas / New Year’s Eve celebration was only a day away. Harlow had finished picking out her gifts weeks ago, including purchasing the special present for her father, an expensive splurge she knew he would never buy for himself…but how could he refuse a gift from his daughter?
