A co-worker appeared, letting Caleb know that he had a call. “See you later. Thanks for the warning.”
“You’re welcome.” Cutting through the center of the island, Harlow arrived at British Landing and stopped for a bathroom break before hopping back on her bike.
Lake Shore Road was one of the most scenic roads Harlow had ever been on. The eight-mile state highway looped all the way around the island, skirting the coastline. She loosened the clip on her hair, letting it flow freely in the breeze.
Late April and even into May, the island would slowly wake from its long winter nap. The months of June, July, and August attracted visitors by the boatload, bringing with them the hustle and bustle of the busy summer season.
Harlow hoped by then she would be close to moving into her newly renovated home with all the security features in place to keep her safe.
She rounded a wide bend, and Lighthouse Lane came into view. The construction crew was back at it. Harlow slowed, watching a worker maneuver a dolly cart filled with sheets of drywall through the slider doors, which meant the walls were going up.
Moments later, she arrived back home. Pedaling through Wynn Harbor Inn’s open gate, she started to turn toward the cottage and changed her mind. Veering left, Harlow kept going until she reached the main gardens, the property’s crown jewels, thanks to Lottie’s loving care.
“…sweet dandelion brushed past the bright yellow daffodil,
Bending and swaying on the way to the hill,
Let’s sing about a gentle light rain to water tulip’s red head,
while lazy little daisy falls asleep in the flowerbed.”
Harlow parked her bike and tiptoed closer.
There, surrounded by mounds of dirt and trays of spring flowers, vivid purple petunias, daffodils and daisies, she found Lottie on her knees, spade in hand turning the dirt.
Harlow cleared her throat.
She stopped singing and looked up. “Hello, Harlow.”
“Hey Lottie. Do you need help?”
Using the pinky finger of her glove, she rubbed her forehead, leaving a smudge of black dirt. “I appreciate the offer, but I’m almost done.”
“Almost done planting all those flowers?”
“I won’t be planting them today. It’s too early. They’ll freeze.” She motioned to her gardening cart sitting a few feet away. “I brought all these little beauties out of the potting shed so they could get some fresh air and the first glimpse of their new home.”
“So they’re visiting,” Harlow chuckled.
“Precisely. I find they acclimate better when they’re introduced to the new environment instead of being dumped in the ground.” Letting out a low groan, Lottie slowly stood. “I stopped by the house. Your dad said you left in a big hurry. Is everything okay?”
“Remember me mentioning how I thought a camera guy from one of the trash magazines was hanging around?” She didn’t wait for an answer. “Someone published a hit piece this morning. It included a photo of me looking like I had just crawled out of bed, standing outside Lighthouse Lane.”
“Bummer.”
“I wasn’t alone. Caleb happened to be in the photo. It included a juicy story, most of which isn’t true.” Harlow told her that she’d gone into town to warn him.
“I’m going to take a wild guess and say that he didn’t give two hoots.”
“Nope. Actually, I think he was amused. It’s funny until it’s not.”
Lottie changed the subject. “Guess who I ran into on my way here?”
“Cheyenne.”
“Mmm. Hmm.” She wrinkled her nose. “It took everything I had not to start laughing. Cheyenne made a snide comment and all I could see was her wearing the outlandish outfit humming her creepy tune while the announcer tried to sell us on…what was the name of the product again?”
“Abuttrezil.”
