Page 57 of Easton Island

Elizabeth shifted her stance, clasping her hands in front of her. “Don’t you think it would have been prudent to have secured my permission before you purchased the property?”

“In hindsight, yes,” he admitted.

Morgan recognized the look in her grandmother’s eye. She almost felt sorry for the man. He had no idea what he was up against. Or maybe he did and was so desperate to get the deal done, he didn’t care.

“A project of this magnitude will affect all of Easton Island. Half the islanders will be adamantly opposed. A quarter will be mildly annoyed while the smallest group would welcome it.”

“The local business owners,” Morgan chimed in.

“Until the locals realize how it would benefit them. Additional tax revenue, improved public services.”

“Congestion, more traffic,” Elizabeth interrupted.

“You built that big, beautiful airport. It’s a shame it’s not being utilized to its full potential,” Mason argued. “The partners are willing to offer you generous compensation, one you should at least consider.” He reached into his pocket, removed a letter size envelope and handed it to her. “I know you don’t owe me anything, but I would appreciate it if you would do me a small favor and at least look at it.”

Elizabeth glanced at the envelope and slid it into the side pocket of her purse. “All decisions are made with my granddaughter, Morgan, and grandson, Brett.”

“I understand. My contact information is on the proposal. How long do you think it will take for you to go over it?”

“A day or so. I’m not one to drag things out.”

“Thank you for your time.” He turned to leave. “I’m sure you’re aware that even if we can’t reach an agreement, the investors will explore other avenues and options to resolve the…issue.”

The veiled threat hung in the air as Travis Mason exited the gallery.

Morgan waited until he was gone. “I guess it’s safe to say he put all his cards on the table.”

“Or in the offer,” Elizabeth muttered. “I’m sure he was telling the truth, that this isn’t going to go away. We will have to make a decision about how to proceed. It’s time for a family meeting. I’ll text Brett to see if he’s available to go over the proposal and figure out what we’re up against.”

“I don’t know much about Mason’s group, but if they have deep pockets, we could be in for a long, drawn-out battle.”

“He plans to play hardball,” Quinn said.

“I’m sure he…they do,” Morgan said. “However, he’s underestimating the Easton family—and Grandmother—by a longshot.”

Chapter 26

The Locke Village patrol car’s radio blared loudly. “Plane down. All available units respond to Stormbreaker Bay. Repeat: Plane down in Stormbreaker Bay.”

Wyatt grabbed his police radio. “On my way.” Doing a U-turn in the middle of the street, he turned his sirens on and sped off along the winding road heading toward the bay, a remote area of the island, accessible via a two-lane dirt track.

By the time he reached the heavily wooded access point, a firetruck and Grady MacDonald’s Easton Harbor patrol car were already on scene.

Wyatt sprang from his car, grabbed his emergency kit from the trunk, and took off at a dead run.

A bolt of lightning flashed overhead. The ground shook and thunder rumbled. He began counting. One…two…three…four…five…six. The lightning was a little more than a mile away.

Halfway down the two-track, the heavy rain gave way to lighter droplets. He cast a furtive glance skyward, letting out a sigh of relief when he noticed the skies were becoming brighter. The ominous storm was starting to move offshore.

Up ahead, at the clearing where a small rocky beach curved along Lake Huron’s shoreline, he noticed Grady and a pair of the island’s firefighters huddled around their equipment.

“Hey!” Wyatt caught up with the trio. “Any survivors?”

“We don’t know yet.” Grady motioned to the tail of the seaplane bobbing in shallow water. “At best, this will be a tricky rescue.”

“We were first on the scene, right after it happened,” a firefighter explained while continuing to assemble his rescue gear. “It must’ve spiraled nose first, in a vertical drop.”

“Not good.”