Page 54 of Easton Island: A Wedding to Remember

Morgan glanced at Priscilla and then at the headline. “Canadian art dealer Edward Ryze, arrested for producing fake artwork.”

Her head shot up. “Ryze got caught?”

Priscilla beamed. “Remember when I told you I thought his name sounded familiar? A reporter from the Bay Harbor newspaper stopped by the Beacon’s office. We got to talking and compared notes. Edward Ryze has been purchasing authentic artwork for years, returning fakes he made to the various galleries he did business with. Very well done fakes, I might add.”

“Which is what he did to Easton Harbor Art Gallery,” Elizabeth said.

“When he doesn’t get what he wants, he hires people to picket. The only way to get rid of them is to pay them off.”

“How did you catch him?” Morgan asked.

“I have a little detective blood in me. I can’t give away all of my secrets now, can I?” Priscilla placed her hands behind her back, looking pleased as punch. “The bottom line is you won’t have to worry about him ever again.”

Elizabeth pressed her hand to her chest, briefly closing her eyes. “This is wonderful news.”

“I figured it would be the perfect wedding present. I’m only sorry I had to wait until the last minute to give it to you.” Priscilla told her the paper was an early print and would publish the following day.

Elizabeth slowly crossed the room until she stood directly in front of her sister-in-law. “Thank you, Priscilla.”

Morgan held her breath, watching the women. Years. Decades of animosity toward one another faded away.

“You’re welcome.” Priscilla sucked in a shaky breath, and Morgan could see her lower lip trembling. “I’ve done a lot of soul-searching these past few months. I’m not getting any younger. I don’t want to die a bitter old woman.” She lowered her head, staring at her clenched fists. “I’m hoping you’ll find it in your heart to forgive me for all the years I’ve tormented and antagonized you.”

Elizabeth pinned her with a stare. “Do you intend to continue writing unflattering stories about me, my grandchildren, or my extended family?”

“No. Unless they’re true. Then it will be my obligation as a journalist to write the truth.”

“Which means we’ll be safe from your wicked pen.”

“I suppose you will.” Priscilla held out her hand.

Elizabeth stared at it for a fraction of a second before wrapping both arms around her former nemesis and hugging her tightly. “To new beginnings and starting over.”

A lone tear trailed down Priscilla’s cheek as she closed her eyes. “I’m ready for new beginnings.”

Chapter 22

“Are you ready, Grandmother?” Morgan gazed lovingly at Elizabeth, looking regal and royal in her wedding gown, her tiara catching the early afternoon light and sparkling brilliantly.

“I believe so. Have you sneaked a peek to see how packed the place is?”

“I have. We’re bursting at the seams.” Morgan had recruited Greg to help his uncle Ben and Jax with traffic and directing cars.

Heeding Ben’s advice, Elizabeth had rented golf carts to transport guests from their vehicles to the venue.

“According to Greg, the cars are lined up past Dead Man’s Drop.”

“And the musicians? Are they playing the music I requested?” her grandmother inquired.

“They are.”

Elizabeth critically eyed her reflection in the mirror. “I hope Gerard doesn’t freak out when he sees all these people and decides to leave me at the altar.”

Morgan chuckled. “You have nothing to worry about. I ran into him downstairs having a brandy in the library with Brett.”

“The groom and my grandson drinking?” She tsk-tsked. “I suppose I might be too if I had an inkling for a good strong drink.”

“I have to say, the tea Mrs. Arnsby brought us has settled my stomach.” Morgan’s watch chimed, reminding them it was timeto make their way downstairs. “Your private elevator will be a lifesaver.”

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