Page 53 of Easton Island

Quinn wandered aimlessly, thinking about what Brett had said. Travis Mason wasn’t going to give up and go away. Too much was at stake. Time was money, and every passing day the project was on hold meant more pressure on him. She had a hunch it wasn’t a pleasant experience.

The minutes ticked by. Five minutes. Almost ten.

She peeked out the window and saw him standing in the driveway, his back to her. He ran his hand through his hair, a sign she knew meant he was agitated.

While Quinn waited, she ran to her room to freshen up. Brett had mentioned listening to a band at a bar near the harbor, a lively spot for weekend entertainment where they often ran into friends and hung out.

A mega-resort meant hordes of visitors. Their “hangout” would no longer be mostly locals. The small island feel and chill vibe would vanish, replaced by tourists and mainlanders.

It reminded her of Florida and the tourist seasons: snowbirds who flocked south for the winter, families who visited for the holidays, and spring break college students. Even during the summer months, the beaches and theme parks were packed.

Morgan, Quinn and their friends often avoided the high-season hotspots, waiting for the calmer, quieter pace of the offseason. Would Easton Island turn into another tourist trap with souvenir stores popping up, selling everything from cheap T-shirts to refrigerator magnets? The thought made her sick to her stomach.

The front door slammed. Brett stepped into the living room.

Quinn clasped her hands. “How did it go?”

“Grandmother got quiet when I told her Mason wanted to meet with us to discuss the project.”

“Quiet as in ‘no way will this fly’ or ‘I’ll think about it' quiet?"

“I’m not sure,” Brett said. “She told me she would have to call me back and abruptly hung up.”

Chapter 24

Quinn wrinkled her nose. “Your grandmother hung up on you?”

“She seemed distracted. I could hear Prissy in the background.”

“Yelling?”

“Honestly, I can’t be certain other than to say it sounded a little chaotic.”

“What a shame. Poor Prissy has gone downhill fast.”

“Grandmother thinks she’s been hiding how far her dementia has advanced for a while.” Brett helped her with her jacket, and the couple meandered out onto the sidewalk. “Thank you for a delicious dinner.”

“You’re welcome. What’s Tristan up to this evening?”

“Ben is teaching him how to polish Burnie, Grandmother’s hot rod. A couple of months ago, he wanted to be a cop. Now he wants to be a chauffeur.”

“Next month, he’ll want to join his dad and run the Easton Holdings empire,” she teased.

“I have no doubt. Did I already mention I’m giving him the grand tour of the offices and we’ll be spending a couple of nights in the penthouse?”

“You did, and I hope you two have a great time,” she said sincerely.

“Me too. He’s a good kid.” Brett brought up the Renaud siblings, and Quinn could tell that finding out they were picking on his son weighed heavily on his mind. The boy was dealing with a double whammy—being an Easton and the new kid in town.

Reaching downtown’s main street, the faint sound of drums, guitar, and a soloist echoed. Skirting the main entrance, the couple sneaked in through the back. A buddy of Brett’s noticed them and motioned them to their table.

Quinn ordered her drink and sat quietly listening to them banter back and forth. Small talk. Easy conversation. Friends hanging out, most of whom Brett had grown up with. It reminded her of the resort project, how it would alter their laid-back island lifestyle, potentially turning it upside down.

Imagine if Elizabeth, Brett, and Morgan agreed and the project moved forward. Residents would blame them if anything went wrong. Too much traffic? The Eastons fault. Expensive flights from the mainland? The Eastons. Long lines for the ferry? Again, the Eastons.

On the flip side, the family would also be blamed if the deal fell apart and the resort plans fell by the wayside. It would be their fault if the hospital, facilities, library, and public services missed out on much-needed tax revenue to improve life for the locals.

Either way, Quinn could see it being a lose-lose. To sum it up, the family couldn’t win, no matter what they decided.