Page 40 of Easton Island

“Yeah.”

“Then you have clothes.” Morgan tugged her cell phone from her pocket and texted her grandmother. I’m inviting Greg Baker to breakfast in the morning.

Elizabeth: The more, the merrier. Nine o’clock sharp.

Morgan: We’ll be there.

“It’s settled.” She put her phone away. “You can meet me there or swing by my place and hitch a ride.”

“What time is breakfast?”

“Nine sharp. No ball caps, shorts, or jeans.”

Greg put his hand to his forehead, playfully saluting her. “Aye, aye, boss lady.”

Morgan giggled. “Very funny. Mrs. Arnsby is an excellent cook, so be sure to bring your appetite.”

“That won’t be a problem.”

She turned to go, and Greg stopped her. “Thanks for inviting me. I’ll meet you there and will be on my best behavior.”

She winked at him, a slow smile spreading across her face. “I have no doubt you will.”

Chapter 18

Morgan checked to make sure her SUV was locked before following Chester to Looking Glass Cottage’s back door.

“Hello, Morgan.” Beatrice Bixby, a widow and recluse who, for the most part, kept to herself, hobbled across the backyard, using a cane as she limped toward her.

“Uh-oh. What on earth happened to you?”

“My bum knee. I’m having surgery tomorrow morning, so you won’t see me around for a while. My sister, Gladys, is insisting I stay with her until it heals.”

“I’m sorry to hear you’re struggling. I had no idea you were hobbling around.”

“I haven’t been able to get out much lately.”

Mr. Pickles, Beatrice’s bunny, hopped through the grass, sniffing and nibbling as he explored the backyard.

Chester, who had rescued the bunny after he’d gotten buried in a snowdrift, trotted over to greet his friend.

“I’ve been meaning to check on you,” Morgan said. “How long does the doctor think it will take for you to be back on your feet?”

“A couple of months.” Beatrice shifted her cane to her other hand. “I figured I would let Mr. Pickles savor his last moments of freedom and fresh air before I take him to the animal shelter.”

“Why are you taking him to the shelter?”

“My sister has severe allergies and I don’t have anyone to watch him. I tried finding a good home, someone who would adopt him, but didn’t have any luck.” Her lower lip trembled, and Morgan noticed tears welling up in her eyes. “I don’t have a choice.”

Chester flopped over, rolling around in the grass while Mr. Pickles leapt into the air and landed next to the pup, batting at him with his paw.

“I put the surgery off as long as I could, dreading this day.”

An idea popped into Morgan’s head, a way for her neighbor to keep her beloved pet. “What if I keep Mr. Pickles until you’re able to come home?”

Beatrice stared at her in disbelief. “You would watch him for me?”

“Chester and he are good friends. I don’t see why not.”