Page 9 of Easton Island: Old-Fashioned Christmas
She stared straight ahead, out into Lake Huron, an icy sheet of glass for as far as the eye could see. Cold, crisp air. Pure, white snow. Clear blue skies. Easton Island at its winter finest.
Greg beat Morgan by a hair, congratulating her on a good run. Back at the starting spot, he raced Quinn down the hill, and then Morgan and Quinn raced again.
After the fifth trip, Morgan, now struggling to catch her breath, finally called it quits. “I feel like a kid again. Thank you for bringing the sleds over and letting us borrow them.”
“You’re welcome.” Greg lowered his head, smiling sheepishly. “For a minute there, I didn’t think you would try it.”
“Neither did I,” Quinn said. “I’m glad we did. Look at all the fun we would have missed out on.”
“We’ll have to go again.” Morgan noticed the sun, a dull orange ball sinking down behind the lake. Evening would soon set in. “All this fresh air worked up an appetite. I’m starving. I bet Tina is already prepping for the guest’s social hour and has ample snacks for us to sample.”
“As tempting as it sounds, Esther and I have some errands to run before heading home.”
“Bummer. I guess I’ll see you tomorrow night.”
“You betcha. I’ll bring the snowsuit back later.”
“Sounds like a plan.”
Quinn called her dog and plodded off.
Greg grabbed hold of the rope and fell into step with Morgan. “I need to get back to work. We have two late-arrival guests coming in.”
“Late arrivals?”
“Ronni said they booked at the last minute. I’m picking them up at the airport at six.”
As soon as they reached Locke Pointe, Greg grabbed the van keys and took off.
Morgan headed to the kitchen, where Tina was finishing up the final preparations for the evening’s get-together. “There you are. Ronni was looking for you earlier. She mentioned that you weren’t answering your phone.”
“We were out sledding with Greg. Is she still here?”
“She left about half an hour ago, something about special guests arriving soon and she wanted to pick up some fresh flowers.”
Morgan’s brows drew together. “She could have borrowed the ones I picked up for the open house.”
Tina shrugged. “She seemed a little frazzled.”
“I’ll track her down.” Morgan made a beeline for the office. She promptly plucked her cell phone from the drawer and dialed Ronni’s number. It went directly to voicemail. “Hey Ronni. Tina said you were looking for me. Quinn and I were sledding with Greg. I’m back in the office now.”
Curious to find out what had Ronni stressed, Morgan turned the computer on and pulled up the reservation screen. Sure enough, two room reservations had been booked at the last minute.
Oddly enough, instead of a name and telephone number, Ronni had written “private party” under both reservations. She switched screens, trying to figure out who had paid for the suites. Once again, it was marked private with only the last four digits of a credit card number being displayed. “This is interesting,” she murmured under her breath.
Tina hovered in the doorway. “What’s interesting?”
“These last-minute reservations. Ronni marked them private. I can’t tell who made them. The information is hidden.”
Tink.Morgan snatched her phone off the desk. It was a text from Greg letting her know he was pulling in, and the guests specifically asked if she was there.You’re not gonna believe who I just picked up.
I’ll meet you at the front door.Morgan set the phone aside, her scalp tingling as she wondered if Greg meant she wouldn’t believe it in agood wayor a bad way.
Quick footsteps echoed in the hallway. Ronni appeared. “You’re here. Greg hasn’t come back with the guests yet, has he?”
“They’re pulling in now.” Morgan turned the computer off. “He said I wasn’t going to believe it.”
“Maybe you will.” Ronni started to say something. “Never mind. You’ll find out soon enough.”
