Page 5 of Wynns of Change
At least every other day, she chatted with her father on the phone, checking in, reassuring him that, although she struggled with certain strenuous activities, the filming team worked hard to accommodate her, and Harlow was given extra time to rest in between takes.
All in all, it was a successful project, one she was proud of and knew her fans would love.
Aunt Birdie patted her hand. “It won’t be long now.”
“The colors are incredible.” Their plane dipped down, giving her a panoramic view of Michigan’s fall colors in all their glory, what visitors from near and far came to see. And no island put on a better show than Mackinac Island.
Within minutes, they were on the ground and exiting the plane. Harlow couldn’t help but compare her previous return to this one, when she’d been unable to walk and needed a wheelchair to get around.
Through the terminal and to the baggage claim, they went. The trio stood at the carousel, waiting for Harlow’s large piece of luggage to appear. As soon as it did, they exited through the main entrance and gathered at the curb.
“Do we need to track down a carriage?”
Eryn tapped her pocket. “I called for a ride. The carriage should be here at any moment. There it is.”
Marty, Harlow’s friend, appeared on the horizon. As he drew closer, she noticed a wide, beaming smile on his freckled face. He halted his team of horses and quickly sprang from the bench seat. “Sorry if I’m late.”
“You’re right on time,” Aunt Birdie said.
Marty loaded their bags and gave Aunt Birdie a hand. Eryn was next, leaving Harlow for last. “How’s Lottie?”
“As busy as ever. She and the Mackies have been cooking up a storm.”
“I can’t wait to hang out with them.”
“They missed you.” Marty cast her a sheepish look. “We all missed you.”
“I missed you too. Thanks for picking us up.” Harlow took the seat next to her friend, peppering him with questions about what she’d missed. Although it had only been weeks, it felt like years.
Marty dropped Eryn off first. He climbed back into his seat and flicked the reins, signaling for the horses to keep moving.
Aunt Birdie leaned forward and tapped his shoulder. “Do you have time to make a brief stop at the spot you took me to the other day?”
“Over by the point?”
“Yes.”
“Your wish is my command.” Marty directed his team toward the right. They cut through the center of the island, returning to M-185, the main road circling the island. Over eight miles long, the winding stretch offered stunning views of Lake Huron and the Mackinac Bridge.
Instead of veering left toward Wynn Harbor Inn, Marty made another right, taking them to a more remote end of the island. Tucked in between, Harlow glimpsed several majestic homes perched atop the hills, partially hidden by the soaring white pines and thickets of white cedar trees.
Aunt Birdie shaded her eyes. “It’s sad to see some of these places already closed up for the season.”
“If I owned one of those houses, I would leave it open year round.” Harlow pointed out a Victorian rambler, nestled high above, regal and imposing, looking down on all who traveled along the scenic lakeshore. “Growing up, I used to make a game out of trying to figure out who lived in the houses on the hills.”
“Wealthy families from Chicago or Detroit, maybe even Grand Rapids, building their summer homes on this gorgeous piece of paradise,” her aunt replied.
“I always wondered what they did, how they made enough money to afford fabulous summer cottages.”
“You’re right up there with them,” Aunt Birdie pointed out. “You could easily afford one of the hillside homes.”
“Not yet.” Harlow sucked in a breath, thinking about Robert. “At least not until the divorce is finalized.”
Her aunt tilted her head. “You mentioned selling the properties you currently own.”
“Which were hand-selected by Robert. After it’s all over and the debts are settled, my plan is to buy something that suits me. Not a big showy mansion, but a cozy cottage.”
“Where?”
