Page 49 of Easton Island

Quinn was about to give up on reaching Brett when he answered, his tone not angry, but neutral. Calm, cool, and collected. “Hello, Quinn.”

“Hey, Brett. I…uh…do you have a minute?”

“Sure. What’s up?”

“I want to apologize about earlier. I overreacted.”

“Apology accepted.”

“Really?”

“Yes.”

“Okay.”

“Is that all?”

“I suppose. You sound distracted.”

“I have a lot on my mind.”

Quinn absentmindedly ran her hand along the counter. “I won’t keep you,” she said in a quiet voice. She started to say goodbye.

Brett stopped her. “Don’t go. I’m being cranky.”

Despite the seriousness of the situation, she laughed. “You get a free pass. It’s been an off weekend.”

“Between Tristan getting picked on by the Renaud duo and arguing this morning, I’m ready for a new week.”

“Would your weekend improve if I invited you to dinner at my place?”

“It depends on what you’re making,” he joked.

“Brett Easton,” she gasped. “Have I ever fixed a bad meal?”

“I’m kidding. You’re a great cook. I accept. What time?”

“How does six sound? I’m working until five.”

“Perfect. I’ll be returning to Toronto in the morning. It will give me time to get organized.”

“See you later. Love you,” Quinn said.

“I love you too. And Quinn?”

“Yeah?”

“I appreciate the apology. It means a lot.”

“I meant every word of it.”

The call ended, and Quinn began jotting down a menu. Pasta was quick and easy. Throw in grilled chicken and broccoli, accompanied by a loaf of garlic bread, tossed salad, and she had an easy, delicious meal for two.

Humming under her breath, she finished the list and put it in the side pocket of her purse. A customer arrived to pick up an order, and then a couple stopped by—window shoppers who weren’t looking for anything in particular and mentioned they were staying at the Lilac Inn for an extended weekend getaway.

They left, and the gallery grew quiet again. She began pricing several art pieces and finished by mid-afternoon. Thinking now would be the perfect time to do a little digging around, Quinn turned her laptop on and typed Sunrise Shores Resort & Spa, Easton Island in the search bar. The website Morgan had shown her earlier appeared.

Working her way through the tabs, Quinn discovered from a news blurb that the property was purchased via a real estate investment group and Travis Mason was handling the project. At the bottom of the page, in small print and almost as an afterthought, she noticed a clickable link: About us.