Page 42 of Easton Island

“Can I help?”

“No. I’ll be all right. If you could send me a text later to let me know how Mr. Pickles is doing, I would appreciate it.”

“Absolutely.” Morgan scooped the rabbit up and held him close. “You focus on healing and don’t worry about your bunny. He’ll be fine.”

“I know he will. He’s in excellent hands.” Beatrice stood watching as Morgan, keeping a firm grip on the rabbit, ushered her pup out of the house and back across the yard.

The bunny rabbit sat perfectly still in her arms, peering over Morgan’s shoulder as they walked away from his home.

Reaching Looking Glass Cottage, she carried him through the back porch and into the kitchen. Following Beatrice’s detailed instructions, she put food and water out, along with setting up the bunny’s cage in a corner of the living room, giving him an unobstructed view of his surroundings yet tucked away enough for him to feel secure.

She promptly snapped a photo of him standing in front of his cage and sent it to her neighbor.

Beatrice replied, thanking her again and reminding her to call if she had questions.

Morgan plugged her cell phone into the charger and patted the bunny’s head. “It looks like you’re going to be hanging out here for a while. I’ve never cared for a rabbit before. Hopefully, we won’t have too much trouble making sure you’re settling in. Beatrice is counting on us.”

Chapter 19

Arriving at Easton Estate at a quarter ‘til nine the following morning, Morgan tracked down Ben Baker, Greg’s uncle, to let him know his nephew had been invited to the breakfast celebration and welcome party.

She found him at his desk, flipping through a black binder. Morgan gave the door a light rap. “Knock. Knock.”

He looked up, a warm smile lighting his face. “Good morning, Morgan. You’re here for Prissy’s welcome breakfast.”

“Along with Tristan’s honorable mention ribbon celebration from the science fair.” Morgan leaned her hip against the doorframe and folded her arms. “I invited Greg.”

“To breakfast?”

“Mm. Hmm. He’s a little down in the dumps, so I figured I would get him out of the house and break up his day.”

Ben closed the binder and slid it off to the side. “Because of Hailey. She was his first serious girlfriend. Greg hasn’t learned to navigate the world of dating. From what he told me, it was a mutual agreement.”

“I heard the same. It’s none of my business, but if you ask me, it’s for the best.”

“I agree.” He cleared his throat. “She has a few skeletons in her closet, namely finding a deceased guest at the hotel where she worked and having a previous drug record. Greg also mentioned Grace discovered Hailey was carrying a knife around in her pocket.”

“All concerning behavior. Not to mention the investigation into the guy’s death is at a standstill. In her defense, she may not have been involved in his death.”

“Or she could be hiding something,” Ben added. “Between you and me, I’m not sure I would have kept Hailey on if I was in Grace’s shoes.”

“Finding good help is tricky, seeing how there are only so many people on the island who are looking for work.” Morgan started to tell him Hailey had agreed to random drug testing to keep her job but kept quiet. It wasn’t her place to share this information, not to mention she didn’t want it to get back to Greg in the event he commented to Hailey about it.

“I see my nephew coming now.”

Greg parked Locke Pointe’s transport van next to Morgan’s vehicle. He climbed out, giving them a friendly wave as he made his way toward them. “Good morning, Uncle Ben. Morgan.”

“Good morning, Greg. Morgan told me she invited you to the celebratory welcome breakfast.” Ben shoved his chair back and stood. “Mrs. Arnsby has been hard at work since early this morning.”

“Speaking of Prissy,” Morgan said. “Have you crossed paths with her yet?”

“I chatted with her last night when I found her roaming around the yard in her pajamas. I took her back inside and asked one of the female staff members to escort her to her room.”

“Did she know who you were or where she was?”

“Not at first, but then I think the fog cleared because she wanted to know what she was doing with her sandals and pajamas on.”

“I hate to say it, but it sounds like she might need a full-time caregiver,” Morgan sighed.