Page 35 of Easton Island: A Wedding to Remember

“Keeping her offer on the back burner might not be a bad idea. If we run out of money, maybe she can invest some of her own,” Morgan said.

“That’s what I’m thinking.” Brett threw out a guesstimate on the meeting date. “Are you interested in going with me?”

Morgan admired David Wynn. He was what she thought her father would have been like, although kinder, more along the lines of what a fatherly figure should be.

“I think I would like to go with you.”

“Good. If Wynn’s daughter is on the fence, maybe you can convince her we’re not sharks swooping in with plans to steal Wynn Harbor Inn,” Brett joked.

“I’m sure she recognizes the Easton family name and knows we’re legit.”

“Honestly, I don’t know what she thinks. Wynn has been tight-lipped about her accident, mostly avoiding mentioning Harlow’s name unless I specifically ask.”

“Based on what I saw on television and the way reporters were acting, I don’t blame him. If it had been me, I would’ve freaked out.” Morgan accompanied her brother to the door. “Did Grandmother tell you about the gallery customer who called the cops, accusing her of selling him fake artwork?”

“Yes. She’s furious and convinced the guy is trying to pull a fast one,” Brett said. “Quinn mentioned he’s coming back tomorrow and wants his money.”

Morgan wrinkled her nose.

“You don’t think it will go well.”

“Nope. Especially if what Gerard told us is true, how the Toronto Renaissance Gallery paid him to go away. She’s not going to give him a penny. I think I’ll run by in the morning to offer moral support.”

“Based on what I heard, I wouldn’t be surprised if he has something up his sleeve,” Brett said.

“Me either, and not in a good way.”

Little did Morgan or Brett know Edward Ryze was gearing up to make the Easton gallery a household name, perhaps even as well-known as the famous star, Harlow Wynn.

Chapter 14

Morgan breezed into the gallery the next morning, only moments after it opened. She found Quinn and Elizabeth near the coffee machine, talking in low voices.

Her grandmother was the first to notice her. “Good morning, Morgan. You’re out bright and early.”

“I wanted to be here if or when Ryze makes an appearance.”

“He’ll show up. He wants his money.” Elizabeth told them she’d talked at length with Marti, the Artisan Shore Gallery’s owner who had traded the Pietro Chardeux painting. “Marti insists the piece we sold Ryze is authentic.”

“You could always refuse to pay him and let him take you to court,” Morgan said.

“It’s a thought, depending on his attitude. Given the fact he’s tried this stunt before, I am leaning toward telling him to go pound sand.”

“Good for you. You’re certain the artwork he carried out of the gallery is legit. He needs to hire a lawyer if he wants to prove you sold him a fraud.”

“We keep detailed photos of every piece we sell,” Quinn said. “I don’t think it would be an unreasonable request to ask to take photos of the artwork he’s trying to return for comparison.”

“That’s an excellent idea.” Elizabeth patted her arm. “I knew we kept photos of each piece for a reason.”

Morgan looked around. “Where’s Can-dee?”

“She wanted to hang out in her crate, her safe space,” Quinn said.

“How did she do last night?”

“Great. She’s an awesome dog who reminds me of Chester in so many ways.”

“Speaking of Chester, he was sniffing me like crazy when I got home. It will be interesting to see what happens when they meet.”

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