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But when? Charlotte desperately wanted to ask her cousin the question hovering on the tip of her tongue. When would love find her? And what was so wrong with her that love hadn’t come calling? Had the event from two and a half years ago scarred her so badly? Was she giving out vibes to men to stay away from her? Was she broken?

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bsp; Charlotte and Hope gave Trina and Eric a tour of Savannah House while everyone else got back to work. Hope was poised and articulate as she led the tour. It gave Charlotte a warm and fuzzy feeling to see Hope so secure in her role at Savannah House. In addition to her role as fitness instructor and garden planner, Hope was the most knowledgeable about the history of Savannah House. She really came alive when she led the tours.

Yes, indeed. God surely had a hand in their inheritance and bringing them all back together under one roof. It filled her with a sense of purpose, knowing their dreams and goals were aligned with the Lord. Savannah House was more than just a way to make a living. It represented so much more—hope, faith and enduring friendship.

As she walked outside and said her goodbyes to Trina and Eric, Charlotte felt a great sense of accomplishment race through her. The reboot of Savannah House had been a huge success. Every day brought new challenges such as leaking pipes in a bathroom or missing reservations or an abrupt cancellation from a guest. Despite a few hiccups, Charlotte knew they were extremely blessed.

“Thank you, Miss Hattie, for believing in us,” she murmured. She looked up at the sky, firm in the knowledge that Miss Hattie was sitting up in heaven sipping tea and looking down upon her girls. Charlotte hoped her cousin Rachel was sitting right at Miss Hattie’s side and talking her ear off. That image gave Charlotte comfort.

As she walked back inside, Charlotte’s thoughts were focused on Savannah House. Today had reinforced how grave the situation was regarding Grayson Holloway. Savannah House was making waves in the industry and earning accolades from guests and the media. According to Trina, Savannah House was the next best thing in resorts. It was now booked solid for months in advance and their profits were considerable. They had way too much to lose if Holloway decided to sue them and tie up their money in court costs.

Please, Marc, find something out in Martha’s Vineyard that will help us get rid of Holloway before he turns our dream into a nightmare.

* * *

Marc showed up at Island Books right on time. The bookstore was packed with people, which surprised Marc. Clearly, Holloway was a popular artist. Marc ended up standing in the back due to the standing room only crowd. When Grayson Holloway made his way to the podium, Marc found himself even more intrigued by the artist. With his long dirty blonde hair and the scruff on his chin and under his nose, he had the appearance of a surfer-beach bum. His skin was tanned. His body seemed athletic. He radiated a raw energy that seemed to invigorate the crowd. The ladies seemed to be taking notice of him.

Marc listened as Holloway discussed his upcoming works and announced a deal he’d just signed for one of his earlier books to make its way to television. The more Marc heard him talk, the more he realized that Holloway was successful. Book deals. Television shows. Merchandising. Why in the world was he trying to claim a piece of the Savannah House pie? Surely, he didn’t need it. After the lecture, the crowd lined up to have Grayson sign copies of his best-selling books. Marc calculated that it would take way too long to stand on line and schmooze with Holloway. And in all likelihood there was nothing Marc would glean from a brief meet and greet.

He took a quick glance at his watch. He’d located Holloway’s address by talking to Linda, the concierge at the Briarwood Inn. She had a bit of a gossipy nature and had provided detailed information about where Holloway lived. It sat right on a lake on a rather remote patch of land. If he could get a ride out to that location tomorrow he could snap some pictures to put in the file. At the moment he was going to snap a few pictures of Holloway so he could share them with the ladies.

“You heading over to the Sparrow afterward?”

“Yes. I heard Grayson will be there, so that’s where I’m headed.”

Laughter rang out. “You really have it bad for him, don’t you?”

Marc swung his gaze in the direction of the two female voices. Both women—a blonde and a redhead—were very attractive. The blonde had a silly smirk on her face. He deduced she was the one who was crushing on Holloway. Marc ducked his head down and continued to eavesdrop. Maybe he might learn a thing or two.

“I’ve been chasing him for years now, but he’s not biting.”

“Maybe it’s time to move on,” the redhead advised. “He’s easy on the eyes but he can be as mean as a snake. He’s got a major chip on his shoulder.”

“Not always,” the blonde said. There was a hint of defensiveness in her tone. “If you ask me he has the right to be angry. He just lashes out at the world because of what happened to him.”

Loud clapping drowned out the two voices. Marc felt frustrated at his inability to hear any more of their conversation. He wanted to know what had happened to Holloway. Perhaps it might shed some light on the claim he’d made regarding Savannah House.

The book signing was over. From what Marc had gleaned from eavesdropping, Holloway frequented the Sparrow. Marc knew where he was headed next. To the Sparrow, a trendy little pub-eatery right down the street. If he was lucky, maybe he just might be able to get some more information about Holloway by watching him up close and personal.

Marc made his way over to the Sparrow. He beat a fast path so he would avoid the post book signing crowd. Marc took a seat at the bar and ordered a beer and an order of spicy wings. Just as his beer arrived, a group of people straggled into the pub. Adrenaline raced through him. Score! Grayson Holloway took a seat a few seats down from him.

“Hey,” he said with a nod, “Is this place always so dead?”

“You must not be familiar with the Vineyard in winter. It’s a lot quieter. This town really gets energized in the summer. Once all the summer folks head off island, Martha’s Vineyard is pretty quiet.” The bartender pushed a beer in front of Holloway along with a bowl of pretzels.

“Thanks for telling me,” Marc said.

Grayson ran a hand through his shaggy hair. He really did look like a California surfer. “Where are you from? I detect a southern accent. It’s very slight but still noticeable.”

“I’m a southern boy, born in Virginia.” Marc carefully avoided any mention of Savannah or Georgia. He didn’t want Grayson’s antenna to go up. Marc hadn’t wanted to lie so he fudged the truth a little bit. He had been born in Virginia so technically he hadn’t lied.

“What brings you to Oak Bluffs?” Grayson asked, his eyes alight with curiosity.

“Business,” he said flatly. “My name is Marc.”

“I’m Grayson. I’m guessing you’re one of those hedge fund guys. Am I right? That’s what my father wanted me to go into.” He let out a sharp laugh. “He’s an author himself as well as being an academician.”

Source: www.allfreenovel.com
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