Page 133 of Unexpected Entanglement

George nodded. “Good for the heart, lungs, joints.”

“Is that also why you’ve been working remotely? I didn’t realize you’ve taken residence here permanently. Is there anything I need to know about? You’re feeling okay?”

Chris found it odd that he was genuinely concerned about his father’s health, even if their relationship hadn’t been what it ought to be. George was still his father, and Chris loved him, even if he hadn’t been the father he’d missed.

“I’m fine. I just feel it’s time for a change. That’s why I’ve been asking you to come see me.”

Chris sighed, knowing what was coming. “Dad, are we going straight to this argument? I haven’t even been home for a half-hour.”

“No argument. I just want to see my son.” George smiled at him, surprising Chris yet again. “Did you ride your bike here? You look a bit disheveled.”

Here it comes.

Chris braced for the criticism. His dad always disliked his motorcycle. “I did.”

“From New York?” George sounded more inquiring than disapproving.

“Not today. I was up in Maine, remember? I was helping a friend.”

“With what?”

“An inn on Vinalhaven Island.”

“I know Vinalhaven. Big lobstering community. I have a friend who spent summers there as a boy.”

“Really? You remember this?” Chris eyed his father skeptically.

“I’m older, not senile. Not yet, at least.” George chuckled. “Tell me about this inn.”

Chris wasn’t used to having his father show interest in his doings, so it took him a few beats to decide how much to tell him before George lost interest.

“My friend and her siblings inherited the inn from their father. It wasn’t operational for the past decade, but they’re reopening it with upgrades and five-star offerings.”

“It’s an older inn, you say?” George asked. “I wonder if it’s the same place Jeffrey went to. Even as an adult, he went back up there for a week each summer for a while. No traffic, he said.”

“It’s still pretty sleepy but beautiful. Different—rough around the edges, but I found it stimulating.”

George sighed in frustration. “The name just escapes me. It has something to do with the owners. Red hair runs in the family.”

Chris stopped and looked at George with a raised eyebrow. “Bright Head Farm & Inn?”

“Bright Head! That’s it.” George pointed his index finger at Chris’ nose.

Chris and George got to the end of the beach before it curved inland and turned back toward the house.

“Rowan told me the property has been in her family for four generations. But I didn't think it was so popular that someone you knew would come every year," Chris said doubtfully, thinking about her father’s business associates.

“I have friends from different walks of life, Christopher. You forget, we weren’t always privileged. Your grandparents incurred tons of debt to start their first hotel. It was their only hotel for a decade, but what a glorious place it was.” George looked far into the distance with a reminiscing smile. “Such a different time.”

He refocused and said, “I should call Jeffrey and tell him they’re reopening Bright Head. He’ll be thrilled. Tell me more about this inn.”

Chris eyed his father. “Really? I didn’t think you’d be interested.”

“Why wouldn’t I be?” George’s bushy brows rose. “From what I remember from Jeffrey’s stories, Bright Head was more than an inn. It was a destination.”

“It is.”

Chris wished George had shown this much interest in his resorts, which numerous travel publications had dubbed as must-visit luxury destinations.

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