Page 7 of Wynns of Change
“Not to mention it’s a gorgeous piece of real estate.” Birdie tapped her foot on the floor. “The foundation is solid. My plan is to use the cottage as the footprint. Water, sewer, electric are all accessible.”
Harlow clasped her hands to her chest, spinning in a slow circle. “I can see it now, Aunt Birdie. Have you told Dad?”
“Not yet. I figured I would show it to you first. How do you think he’ll react?”
“About you putting down roots on Mackinac Island or buying his old home?” Harlow teased.
“Either. Both.”
“I think he’s coming around and am guessing he’ll be tickled pink.”
“Does me buying a chunk of land help sway your decision about taking up part-time residence here on the island?”
Harlow grew quiet, contemplating her aunt’s question. Deep down, she already knew the answer. “It doesn’t sway it. To be honest, ever since my accident, it’s all I can think about. Home is where the heart is and my heart is here,” she simply said.
Aunt Birdie shimmied back and forth, her hands in the air. “This is the best news I’ve had all week. Let’s head to the inn. Your father is waiting for you.”
*****
Back on the road, Harlow and her aunt arrived at Wynn Harbor Inn a short time later. Marty steered his team off to theside, waiting for another carriage to pass by before helping them down. “Do you need me to take the luggage for you?”
“We can handle it.” Harlow plucked two twenty-dollar bills from her bag and handed both to him. “Thanks for the ride and making the detour to check out Aunt Birdie’s new place.”
“Anytime. Welcome home, Harlow.”
“Thanks, Marty.” Harlow waved goodbye and caught up with her aunt near the gate. She lingered for a moment, taking it all in. Not a single thing had changed. It all looked exactly the same as it had the day she left for the mainland.
Stepping through the gate, they veered right onto the main street that led to the trio of cottages, including the one her father lived in.
Entering through the second smaller gate, she came to an abrupt halt, noticing a familiar, faded sign hanging from the porch.
“Dad put the cottage’s nameplate back up.” Harlow had noticed it was missing when she first arrived after her injury, but hadn’t mentioned it.
Bridgeview Cottage, the name the family had decided on over a decade ago, fit it to a ‘t.’ David Wynn had ordered the custom sign and proudly hung it on the porch until the devastating fire destroyed the lodge and Harlow left.
“I noticed it the day after you flew out to Vancouver,” Aunt Birdie said. “He’s proud of the name.”
“Mom, Dad and I picked it out.” Harlow bounced on the tips of her toes, glimpsing the “Mighty Mac,” the majestic Mackinac Bridge off in the distance. “It fits this place perfectly.”
“And has special meaning to him.” Her aunt touched her arm. “I see it does for you too.”
The screen door flew open. Mort, her father’s dog, appeared. He flew down the steps and collided with Harlow. The husky pup’s exuberance threw her off balance. He trampled on Harlow’s foot and slobbered all over her arm.
“It’s okay, buddy. I’m just as excited as you are to be home again.” She giggled at the kisses Mort showered her with, his tail wagging ninety miles an hour.
“He’s been sitting by the door all day watching for you.” David Wynn trailed behind, waiting for the pup to finish greeting Harlow. He wrapped both arms around his only child, hugging her tightly. “We missed you.”
“I missed you too.” Harlow closed her eyes, feeling the love of her father’s embrace. Even though their chats on the phone had helped ease her homesickness, being there, being home was everything. “I barely slept last night.”
“Neither did we.” He stepped back, holding her at arm’s length. “You look good, like maybe you got a little sun while you were in Vancouver.”
“And a sunburned nose to boot.” She jokingly tapped the end of her red nose.
David craned his neck. “Where’s Vic?”
“He’s on vacation.” Harlow explained she’d insisted her friend and bodyguard take a couple of well-deserved weeks off after being on location with her the entire time.
A pitcher of lemonade and a plate of cookies sat on the table. “I thought you might want a snack after the long flight.”
