Page 3 of Easton Island: A Wedding to Remember

Morgan watched as he passed by the window, moving at a brisk pace. “What was that all about?”

“I knew he was going to be trouble.” Elizabeth explained the man had come in the previous weekend and spent a great deal of time perusing their inventory. “He finally settled on the Pietro Chardeux piece.”

Quinn picked up. “I was here too. He kept asking if it was real. Elizabeth gave him the authenticity papers. He paid for the artwork and left.”

“And now he’s back.”

Elizabeth briefly closed her eyes. “Refresh my memory…where did we get that particular piece?”

Quinn hurried over to the computer, her fingers flying over the keys. “We got the Chardeux on consignment from the Artisan Shore Gallery in Port Huron.”

“Marti’s gallery. I’ll call her to find out what she knows.”

“Is there anything I can do to help?” Morgan asked.

“No. I’m sure we’ll sort it out,” her grandmother said. “Although I appreciate your offer.”

After leaving, Morgan swung by the harbor to pick up her special order of fresh seafood packed in dry ice, one she’d placed for the party. The dockworker promptly loaded the boxes in the back of her SUV.

Double-checking to make sure she had everything—jumbo shrimp, Maine lobster and king crab, she lowered the hatch and started to climb into her vehicle when she noticed a familiar figure limping along the dock toward the parking lot.

As the person drew closer, Morgan realized it was Priscilla Finkpin, a woman who had been a thorn in the Easton family’s side for decades.

She leaned heavily on a cane, a look of pain etched on her face. With each step she took, she slowed even more. Clearly, the woman was struggling.

Thinking Priscilla’s ride was somewhere nearby, Morgan scanned the parking lot, only to realize there was no one else around. She reached for the door handle and whispered under her breath, “I hope I don’t end up regretting this.”

Chapter 2

Morgan hurried across the parking lot. Her heart plummeted when she drew closer, noticing Priscilla’s face was pale and pinched.

“Morgan,” she gasped.

“I noticed you seem to be having trouble. Can I give you a ride?”

“If you don’t mind.” Priscilla winced. “I underestimated the pain in my ankle. Captain Davey offered to give me a lift when I got off the ferry, but stubborn old me refused.”

Morgan touched her arm. “Stay here. I’ll bring my car to you.”

“You don’t…”

“I insist.” She took off, moving at a fast clip. She hopped back into her SUV and drove over to where Priscilla, who was now breathing heavily, stood waiting.

“You can lean on me.” Morgan offered the woman her arm, helping her balance on her good foot while she slid into the passenger seat.

As soon as Priscilla was settled, she stowed the cane and purse in the back and returned to the driver’s side. “How did you hurt yourself, if you don’t mind me asking?”

“I was chasing after my cat, Tornado. Next thing I know…” Priscilla slapped her palms together. “I’m flat on my back with a twisted ankle. I noticed it was swelling, so I drove to the hospital’s ER and found out I had sprained it. Unfortunately, I had an appointment on the mainland, one I couldn’t reschedule,so here I am, thinking I can do it all and feeling every minute of my age.”

“You should have had someone go with you,” Morgan said.

“I hate to bother people.” Priscilla absentmindedly tugged on the edge of her blouse. “Everyone is so busy these days.”

“But not too busy if you asked for help, I’m sure.”

“Hindsight is twenty-twenty. Thank you for coming to my rescue.”

“You’re welcome.” Following Priscilla’s directions, Morgan turned onto a side street, one which ran parallel to the main drag, to a small bungalow a few blocks away.

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