Page 4 of Easton Island: A Wedding to Remember

She steered her SUV into the driveway, pulling as close as she could to the side door.

“Thanks again for the ride.” Priscilla reached for the door handle.

Morgan stopped her. “Hang on. I’ll come around.” She grabbed the woman’s purse and cane before circling around to the passenger side and opening the door. “Take your time.”

Moving at a snail’s pace, and leaning heavily on Morgan’s arm, Priscilla shuffled across the driveway to the back door. Her hand trembled as she fumbled with her keys. “I think I can make it from here.”

“I’ll feel much better if I know you’re safely inside.” Morgan helped her into the breezeway and up the narrow steps.

The entry opened to a compact yet fully furnished kitchen. Although on the small side, the double window overlooking the driveway gave the room a bright and airy feel.

Tucked away in the corner was a small table with a Formica top, a throwback from the sixties, if Morgan had to guess. Olive green chairs were neatly tucked in on each side.

A fluffy black cat stalked into the kitchen, meowing loudly.

“There’s the troublemaker.”

“Hello, Tornado.” Morgan scratched his ears. “You sure are a pretty troublemaker.”

Priscilla hobbled across the kitchen, gripping the edge of the counter with one hand and her cane with the other. “I think I’ll take a pain pill and put my foot up.”

“I don’t mind helping you get settled.”

The woman’s eyes flickered with uncertainty. Morgan could only guess what she was thinking. Priscilla, an editor for the Easton Harbor Beacon, had written some unflattering hit pieces about the Easton family, including a few about Morgan, despite the fact the woman was Elizabeth’s sister-in-law.

She hesitated.

“Please. Let me help.”

“I-I don’t know what to say.”

“You could start by telling me where to find drink glasses and your pills.”

Priscilla directed Morgan to the cabinet, where she made quick work of gathering what was needed.

“I think the recliner is my best bet. I’ll be able to elevate my leg.”

Morgan followed her into the living room. “Did the doctor tell you to put ice or heat on it?”

“I’ve already made it through the icing phase. He recommended heat.”

“Do you have a heating pad?”

“I believe there’s one in the hall closet. You might have to dig for it,” Priscilla warned.

“I’m good at digging.” Morgan set the pills and water on the table and made her way into the hall. Stacks of clear plastic bins filled the closet shelves. Taped to the front of each bin was an index card listing the contents.

Working from top to bottom, she finally found the one with the heating pad halfway down. “I found it.” Morgan carried it into the living room. “I admire your organizational skills. Everything is so neat and tidy.”

“Thank you. It’s my OCD. Everything has to be in its designated spot.” Priscilla tensed up. “If it’s not, my anxiety kicks in.”

Morgan plugged the heating pad into the nearest outlet and draped it over the armrest. “Is there anything else you need? What about your cell phone?”

“It’s in my purse.”

“I’ll go get it.” She darted into the kitchen, grabbed Priscilla’s purse, and returned to the living room. “Is there someone nearby who can check in on you…maybe a neighbor or co-worker?”

“Mimi Besteman, my boss, has been checking on me. I’m sure I’ll be fine.” Priscilla placed the heating pad on her ankle. “I’ve been meaning to ask…how are the wedding plans going?”

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