“Yes, ma’am. They had a couple of big dumpsters delivered. Looks like they’re almost done gutting the inside.”
“Hopefully not completely gutting, but removing all the old paneling, flooring, cabinets and cupboards.” As soon as Harlow had closed on the cottage, she’d promptly contacted the general contractor and pulled the trigger.
“We can take the long way home and do a drive by,” Marty offered.
“That would be awesome.” Harlow clapped her hands.
“Your wish is my command.” He guided his horse down a side street, taking the back way to the less populated part of the island. As they drew closer, she leaned forward, eager for her first glimpse. They rounded the bend, and Lighthouse Lane came into view.
No longer desolate and abandoned, the property was a beehive of activity. The dumpsters Marty had mentioned sat off to the side, one of them already filled to the brim. She could see several workers moving around downstairs.
He tugged on the reins, slowing Chance. “Do you want to stop?”
“As much as I would love to, I don’t want to become a distraction.”
They continued on the paved road that skirted the shoreline until reaching the edge of her father’s property. The yard and gardens were finally showing signs of coming back to life.
Soon, the island would be filled with brilliant colors—tulips blooming in every shade imaginable, followed by the fragrant aroma of lilacs. The chilly air would eventually give way to warm, sunny summer days. Tourists would return after a long winter, eager to immerse themselves in all Mackinac Island had to offer.
Chance stopped in front of the gate. Marty hopped down, unloaded Harlow’s bags and waited for her on the sidewalk. “Do you need me to help with your luggage?”
Harlow plucked some cash from her pocket and handed it to him. “I’ve got it. Thanks for the lift.”
After Marty left, Harlow steered her luggage through the gate, noticing Lottie Fletcher, the inn’s gardener who was also a close family friend, had already added a layer of fresh mulch to the sprawling gardens. With each step, she could feel the whirlwind trip and stress of the past week fade, reminding her once again how different her two worlds were.
Breezing through the second gate, her sharp eye noticed the welcome mat was missing from the cottage where her Aunt Birdie had been hanging her hat during the long winter months.
Dragging her suitcase up the steps, Harlow eased her father’s front door open. “I’m home.”
A flash of gray and white, a big ball of fur barreled toward Harlow. Mort, the family mutt, nearly knocked her over in his excitement. With tail whipping, he jumped on her, simultaneously slobbering on her arm.
“Hey, Mort,” Harlow giggled. “It’s good to be home.”
David Wynn appeared. “I was just getting ready to send you a text.”
“Marty and I drove by Lighthouse Lane.” Harlow scratched the pup’s ears and patted his head. Easing her backpack off, she set it on the floor. “The construction crew isn’t wasting any time.”
“I’ve gone by there every day. At this rate, they’ll have the place ready for you to move in by the 4thof July.”
“I would like nothing more, but I’m trying not to get my hopes up. Tearing stuff out is the easy part. Putting it back together is where it gets tricky.” She bounced on the tips of her toes and hugged her father. “Did you miss me?”
“Like a bad case of poison ivy,” he joked. “Of course. It’s been way too quiet. How did your meeting with the studio’s big cheese go?”
“As smooth as butter. My scene reading went off without a hitch. I’m off the hook now until I show up on the set.”
“And Eryn?” David followed his daughter through the living room.
“She’s on her way to her place. We had a nice dinner last night before hitting some popular hot spots. She got to tour the apartment I rented in Studio City. I also talked to Robert, but only once. He wanted to know how it was going.”
“How is he? Still annoying, I’m sure.”
“We had a few tense moments. I survived.”
David cleared his throat, looking as if he wanted to say something.
“What is it?” Harlow prompted.
“I met with Caleb and Jim Cook, the fire investigator, while you were gone.”
