Page 24 of Easton Island: Old-Fashioned Christmas
“They haven’t been tested in a while, but as a whole, they are or at least have been in the past.”
Morgan felt herself start to relax. “So your place and Quinn’s rental right down the street should have power?”
“I hope so, although like I said, it hasn’t been tested in a while. We haven’t had a blizzard like the one they’re forecasting for several years.” Wyatt’s voice faded. “Gotta run. Are we still on for breakfast in the morning?”
“You bet. I’m making you a lumberjack breakfast. It sounds like you’ll need energy for tomorrow,” she teased.
“I can’t wait.” Wyatt told her he loved her and ended the call.
Morgan pulled up her favorite weather app and clicked on the map. A sinking feeling settled in the pit of her stomach as she stared at the swirling white mass creeping toward Michigan and Easton Island.
An uneasiness seeped in, a feeling she hadn’t had in a while, not since she’d discovered her ex-husband, Jason, was stalkingher. A small voice in Morgan’s ear told her this blizzard had the potential to create major issues.
She wasn’t far off. What Morgan didn’t know was that the Easton family dynasty would soon be shaken to its very core, and it had nothing to do with the impending storm.
Chapter 10
Morgan bounced onto the tips of her toes and placed a chubby-cheeked St. Nick on an upper branch. “What happened to Brett? I thought he was helping us decorate.”
“He’s upstairs sequestered away in his office, claiming he needs to finish drafting a contract before the office shuts down.”
“He needs an intervention,” Morgan joked. “A work intervention.”
“I agree. Brett reminds me so much of his father, eating, sleeping, breathing work,” Elizabeth sighed. “Quinn’s planning a much-needed break for them after Christmas. Hopefully, she’ll be able to drag him away from his desk long enough to enjoy it.”
“Eventually he’ll get hungry and emerge from his work cave.” Morgan finished emptying the box of ornaments.
“I haven’t talked to Captain Davey or Denver, but I’m sure the ferries and planes are packed this morning.”
“No doubt. Which reminds me, I need to head to Locke Pointe before too long to get the guests to the airport and harbor.”
Working as a team, she and her grandmother put the finishing touches on the library’s tree. Although there were several other trees, each themed and sprinkled throughout the massive estate—the largest in the formal entryway foyer, another in the living room, as well as the sun room and dining room—Morgan’s favorite was a cozy corner tree in the kitchen’s breakfast nook.
Most were decorated by the staff except for the tree they were currently working on, which held family mementos with touchesof whimsy. Because of their sentimental value, Elizabeth insisted on handling them herself.
“I love the decorations,” Morgan said. “It reminds me of the tree in Locke Pointe’s living room.”
“Are you and Wyatt planning a special celebration at Looking Glass Cottage?”
“Christmas night. I made him breakfast this morning before he left for the mainland.” Morgan told her grandmother about his siblings gathering at their parents’ home. “His dad is having some trouble getting around.”
“Old age isn’t for the faint of heart,” Elizabeth sighed. “Some days I feel fit as a fiddle, while others I feel every second of my age.”
A clattering sound ensued. Mrs. Arnsby appeared, pushing a cart into the room. “The tree looks stunning.”
“Thanks.” Elizabeth’s sharp eye gave it the once-over. “Morgan and I did a splendid job if I do say so myself.”
“I thought you might like a break and a spot of tea.”
Morgan hung the wooden nutcracker on the tree branch and hurried over to help the cook unload the cart. Along with tea was a tower of treats—scones with miniature jars of raspberry jam, deviled eggs, finger sandwiches and her personal favorite, Mrs. Arnsby’s classic sponge cake with fresh cream.
“This all looks yummy.”
“I love a good English tea.”
Elizabeth patted the seat next to her. “Come join us, Jane. You’ve been working hard getting ready for our Christmas Eve celebration and deserve a break as well.”
The cook hesitated. “Thank you. It will be nice to get off my feet for a minute.” She daintily perched on the edge of her chair and poured another cup of tea. “I’ve been tinkering with the Christmas pudding recipe and think I might flambé it.”
