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The driver’s phone buzzed, and he answered it through the car’s system. “I have you on speaker,” he announced by way of a greeting.
“We have a security situation at the dock in Northeast,” the man said. “We need to bring them to Southwest Harbor instead. Mr. Windsor has a boat waiting.”
“We’ll see you there. What about the cars following us?” the driver asked.
“They’ll be stopped at a roadblock before the exit. Don’t worry—everything’s taken care of.”
“I can’t believe the paparazzi are chasing us!” Noah exclaimed when the call ended. “That is so cool!”
The driver chuckled. “I’m glad you think so. The rest of us should take a page from your playbook—we’ve all been complaining. They’ve been out in boats taking pictures of the house. They’re swarming the dock at Northeast, they’ve got helicopters…they’re relentless.”
“Does that mean I can’ go fishing? Or leave the house at all?” Noah wrinkled his nose.
“Don’t worry about it.” The driver smiled at him in the rearview mirror. “The staff is thrilled you’re coming back—I’m sure you’ll have lots of fun.”
“Cool. Thanks.” Noah lifted his chin, and my heart melted a little. The fact that Bryce’s employees had taken to my brother and shown him such kindness almost made the whole ordeal worth it.
“Here we are—hang on, I’m going through the checkpoint.” The driver sped up, maneuvering past several barricades manned by more of Bryce’s staff and several state police troopers. The SUV behind us accelerated, too. We watched through the rear window as the officers quickly moved the barricades across the exit, blocking the entourage of paparazzi trying to follow behind.
One guy got out and started yelling. The officer crossed his arms against his chest and didn’t budge.
“The police are helping us?” I asked, confused.
“The Windsors have always supported our troops,” the driver said. “Everyone’s happy to assist.”
Noah grinned. “Bryce is kind of a big deal.”
I didn’t respond. But inside, I was scowling. Brycewaskind of a big deal, but I could no longer let him be a bid deal tome.
We drove through Southwest Harbor, a cute coastal town. The pretty houses flew by, with their immaculate lawns and flower boxes bursting with color, as we headed to a private dock, the second car directly behind us. “Here we are.” The driver parked in the vacant lot, and I let out a sigh of relief. We were safe, at least for now.
We hustled down to the water as the men loaded our bags onto the boat. It was pristine but not as opulent as theJules, Bryce’s yacht that he docked at Northeast Harbor. Noah chattered excitedly as we climbed on board. The captain, who I didn’t recognize, didn’t waste any time—he immediately started the motor and headed out across the clear, blue-green water. It was a color I’d only ever seen in Maine. Gorgeous mountains rose in the distance. Despite the paparazzi—not to mention our destination—a certain peace settled over me; to me, MDI was the most beautiful place in the world.
I recognized several boats we passed, but no one glanced in our direction. Our anonymity was a good thing. A cluster of paparazzi boats was moored in the harbor in front of Bryce’s estate. Several men had their enormous zoom lenses pointed at the house, but thankfully, they didn’t look in our direction.
“Please come in from the deck—Mr. Windsor doesn’t want them to see you.” One of Bryce’s men tucked us inside the cabin and closed the door. The captain took the long way around the island, keeping distance from the photographers. We landed at a brand-new dock I’d never seen before—it was further away from the house, virtually hidden by pine trees.
“Where are we going?” Noah asked.
“To the house—we’re just trying to be discreet,” the guard said.
“Bryce should just get a helicopter,” my brother joked.
“They already have one.” The guard smiled at him. “But the elder Mr. Windsor’s using it today.”
I held my breath as we docked. The guards grabbed our luggage and ushered us up the ramp. Two golf carts waited, but there was no sign of Bryce.
“Is the younger Mr. Windsor with his father today?” I asked, careful to keep my tone neutral.
“He’s at the house,” a guard answered. “He’s been in meetings all day.”
“Can I drive? This is socool!” Noah hopped into the golf cart, happy as a clam.
“Sure thing.” The guard smiled at him. “As long as that’s okay with you, Mrs. Windsor?”
“Sure,” I said weakly. I’d sworn to myself that I would try to relax; Noah should enjoy himself as much as possible. Besides, you couldn’t go that fast on a golf cart, right?
Wrong! Noah floored it, whooping as he crossed the grounds.
