Page 48 of Easton Island: A Wedding to Remember

Morgan’s scalp tingled. “Did he tell you what kind of story?”

“No, but he left me his card.” Greg held out a business card. “I’m sorry. I should’ve asked him to leave. The only thing I told him was you owned this place, and you were related to Mrs. Easton. I swear.”

“I believe you. It’s all right. Thank you for letting me know.” As soon as Greg left, Morgan dialed her grandmother’s cell phone number.

“Good morning, Morgan.”

“Good morning, Grandmother.” Morgan got right to the point. “Greg said a reporter, a man from Bay News was here at Locke Pointe asking questions.”

“He also stopped by the gallery. It appears Mr. Ryze contacted him. He and Prissy should have a field day writing a scandalous story.”

“Priscilla promised me she wouldn’t.”

“Wouldn’t print a story about the alleged fake artwork?” Elizabeth asked.

“Yep.”

“Perhaps I should call her. I have the name of the news reporter. She might be able to give me a little background about him.”

“Which isn’t a bad idea.” Morgan wished her luck and ended the call, a feeling of dread washing over her. Edward Ryze was not giving up. Not by a longshot. If anything, he was just getting started.

*****

“Do I have a surprise for you.” Morgan placed Chester’s food and water dish inside his backpack, along with his favorite treats and enough food for their overnight stay. “Are you ready to go to Auntie Quinn’s place?”

Woof.Chester pranced in a circle at the mention of Quinn’s name. Like Morgan, he missed her. Little did her pup know he had an even bigger surprise waiting for him.

She texted Quinn, confirming it was still okay for her to bring Chester for the housewarming sleepover.

Her reply was prompt.Yes! Can-dee has settled in like nobody’s business.

Morgan:We’re on our way.

It took a couple of trips to load her SUV. Chester’s bag, Morgan’s overnight bag, the housewarming gift. Munchies to share for their Mexican feast—tortilla chips, homemade queso dip, all the fixings for crunchy tacos.

Chester hovered by the door while she darted back and forth. Finally, she was ready to go. “Let’s hit the road.”

Saturday evening meant Easton Harbor’s downtown district was packed. Thinking it wouldn’t hurt to do a quick drive by the gallery, she was relieved to discover it was quiet without a single protester in sight.

She circled back around and drove by Wyatt’s place. As expected, his porch light and living room lamp were on.

Because Quinn’s cottage was only a hop, skip and a jump from Wyatt’s home, she pulled into her friend’s driveway seconds later. Grace’s car and Ariel’s van were parked out front, meaning she was the last to arrive.

Morgan reached for the door. Chester ran across her lap, eager for her to let him out. “Sorry, buddy. You’re going to have to wait until I unload first.” She nudged her pup back.

Chester frowned, his tail lowering to “this stinks” level.

She laughed at the look on his face. “You’re spoiled rotten.”

Quinn appeared on the porch. “Do you need help?”

“Please. I packed everything but the kitchen sink.” Morgan handed her bags of food. She grabbed her backpack and Chester’s overnight bag and traipsed up the steps.

Can-dee hovered near the doorway, her whole body wiggling when she spotted Morgan. “Hey, cutie pie.” She bent down and patted her head. “You look happy as a clam, little lady.”

“She’s ruling the roost,” Quinn joked. “She doesn’t answer well to her name. I was thinking you guys could help me come up with a new name.”

Ariel and Grace hurried out of the house. “Hey, Morgan. Do you need anything else unloaded?”

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