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“Yes and films,” she added.
“No. That’s incredible,” Connell said. “Have you ever watched Friends?”
“I have, yes.” Hadn’t everyone, she thought?
“I just love that show,” Connell said.
Elise laughed inwardly and said, “Well, I do, too. Who doesn’t?”
The carriage came to a halt in front of the Willow Grove Guest House. It looked even more adorable than it had on the internet—painted lilac in color, with big bay windows that hung out toward the water. Elise didn’t wait for Connell to help her down; she popped onto the sidewalk with more spring in her step than she’d had in ten years.
Marvin carried her suitcase and carry-on bag and marched ahead of both her and Connell. In the foyer, Connell checked her in without a computer and with only an old ledger, something Elise’s California-mind found odd. He then asked her to sign her name.
Behind the counter was a glorious painting of a family standing near a rocky outcropping. There was the father—his face stoic, looking powerful and his eyes sparkling with confidence. Beside him was his beautiful wife and their three adult children, probably in their twenties at the time of the painting.
“Who are those people?” Elise asked.
“Oh. That’s the owner of the BnB and his family,” Connell said. “He basically owns all the BnBs on the island, along with several restaurants. A really good guy.”
“Wow. Island royalty,” Elise said, taking one last glance at the photo.
“You have no idea,” Connell affirmed. “Want to head to your room?”
Elise’s room included a queen-sized bed, a large desk, a 30-inch TV, and a large balcony that overlooked the water.
“What do you think? Can you make do?” Connell asked. He placed his hands on his hips and looked out across it proudly.
“Of course. It’s so beautiful.” Elise swept across the space and yanked open the balcony door. The sun had fully dipped below the horizon and cast them in darkness. Far out, she caught just the ghost-like image of the Mackinac Bridge. When she turned around again, she found Connell looking at it, as well. “I guess you must get sick of the view,” she said.
“No way,” Connell said with a light cough. “I could never get sick of heaven.”
“I live in California. I see the Pacific Ocean almost every day,” Elise said. “It’s beautiful. But you’re right. There’s something about here—something secretive. It’s almost like you’ve kept it from the rest of the country all this time.”
Connell laughed. “I hope so. The island is too small to take on many more guests than we already do.”
“Have you always lived on the island?”
“I’ve been on and off the island my whole life,” he explained. “My parents owned their own hotel, which has since closed, and I helped them just like Marvin helps me now.”
“Wow. So you must have been around in 1979,” Elise said delicately.
“Of course,” he said.
“When they filmed the movie,” Elise said.
Connell’s smile was electric. “You know it? Somewhere in Time?”
“It’s one of my favorites,” she said. Although she had only seen it once, she had to feel this way. It was probably the reason she existed.
“You have the main character’s name. I guess your mom must have loved it, too,” Connell said.
“Yes.” Elise swallowed hard. She trotted down uneven territory. “What was it like on the island while they filmed it?”
“Well, it was one of the more chaotic times of this island’s life,” Connell said. “I remember cars running down the back roads filled with extras and supplies. My dad grumbled about the cars and the extra people, but when he caught sight of Jane Seymour at one of the ice cream shops, he didn’t complain again. She was really a beauty.”
Mom was probably right there, eating ice cream with her.
“She really was a beauty,” Elise agreed.
