Page 56 of Easton Island

Morgan flew through her morning, checking guests out and coordinating their departure with Greg, who was in charge of shuttling them to the harbor and airport. In between, she helped Tina serve breakfast to the remaining hungry guests.

Having left her cell phone on her desk, plugged into the charger, she finally took a break and glanced at the screen, noticing a missed call from Quinn only moments earlier. She promptly dialed her friend’s number.

“Morgan,” a breathless Quinn picked up right away. “Where are you?”

“At Locke Pointe. Why?”

“He’s here,” she hissed. “Travis is here. Elizabeth is helping customers, and he’s waiting for her to finish.”

“To corner her about the Sunrise Shores Spa & Resort project?”

“I’m positive of it.” Quinn lowered her voice. “If you can get away, I think you should be here.”

“On my way.” She told Tina something had come up, and Morgan took off, making it to Easton Harbor and the art gallery in record time. She dashed inside while a rumble of thunder echoed overhead. She found Elizabeth helping customers while Mason stood casually sipping coffee and chatting with Quinn.

“Hey, Quinn.” Morgan nodded in Travis’s direction, acknowledging his presence. “Hello, Mr…”

“Mason. Travis Mason,” he replied. “Morgan Easton. We meet again.”

“How fortuitous,” she joked. “You must have a pretty awesome boss to be hanging out, shooting the breeze on a Monday morning.”

“Actually, I’m working.”

“Working at the gallery?”

“I’m here to speak with your grandmother.”

“About…”

“A project on Easton Island.”

Morgan pretended not to know what he was referring to. “I’m familiar with most of what is happening on the island. Is it here in Easton Harbor?”

“On the east side. We just put up a sign. You may have noticed it, Sunrise Shores Resort & Spa.”

“What does this have to do with Grandmother?”

The conversation abruptly ended when Elizabeth, accompanied by customers who were purchasing a piece of art, made their way to the counter. The artwork, a recently consigned watercolor of Easton Harbor, captured Captain Davey’s ferryboat chugging off in the distance, making its way to the mainland.

“What a great pick,” Quinn said. “I’ll miss looking at this.”

“I have the perfect spot for it in my sunroom. We have a summer home down around the bend. I love watching the ferryboats and being near the water. I keep telling my husband that someday we’re selling our home in Bloomfield Hills and moving here year-round.”

The couple completed their transaction and exited the gallery, leaving Morgan, Quinn, Elizabeth, and Travis Mason alone.

The senior Easton greeted him with a guarded smile. “Hello.”

“Elizabeth Easton-Ainsworth, meet Travis Mason,” Quinn said.

They politely shook hands.

Morgan wasn’t surprised when her grandmother cut to the chase. “From the Sunrise Shores Real Estate Group.”

“Correct.”

“You need a right-of-way easement agreement for the strip of land I own.”

“Also correct. My partners sent a letter a few weeks ago, requesting a meeting to discuss our project.”