Page 52 of Easton Island

Knock. Knock. She heard Brett’s knock and hurried to the door to let him in. He stood on her porch with a bag of chocolates from her favorite chocolate shop in Toronto. “I picked these up the other day on my way back to the office.”

“My favorites.” Quinn peeked inside the bag. “Thank you. I don’t deserve them after what happened this morning.”

“All forgiven and forgotten.” Brett sneaked a kiss. “Something smells good.”

“Garlic. I hope you’re in the mood for pasta.” She placed the bag of candy on the table and closed the door behind him.

Brett greeted Esther and gave her a small treat he’d brought with him. She promptly gobbled it up and licked his hand to show her appreciation. “It’s a nice night. I thought after dinner we could go listen to some music at our favorite watering hole.”

“I would love to.”

The couple settled in at the table, making small talk about Prissy’s advancing dementia, Brett’s upcoming plans with Tristan and his promised trip to the “big city.”

It wasn’t until they had finished dinner and began straightening the kitchen that Brett broached the subject of Travis, asking if he’d shown up at the art gallery.

“He popped in earlier, about mid-afternoon.”

His expression grew guarded. “Did Morgan also stop by?”

“She did. She told me all about the resort and spa and even pulled up the website, the one listing him as the manager. While he was there, he asked when Elizabeth would be working.”

“Did you play dumb or call him out?”

“I called him out. He admitted to it.” Quinn told him about what Travis had said, how the project was dead in the water unless he could get the Eastons to give them permission to use the easement needed to move forward with the project.

“The REIG should have resolved the issue before signing on the dotted line and trying to hammer out a deal,” Brett said. “They had to have known about us owning the sliver of land threading through the property.”

“He practically begged me to talk to you, Morgan and Elizabeth, to see if I could arrange for him to meet with you. I told him I would mention it and nothing more,” Quinn said. “To be honest, I’m on the fence about the entire thing.”

“Because you can see the pros and cons.”

“It would affect our idyllic island life. Morgan said, and I read, the plans are for 300 resort rooms. Three hundred rooms,” Quinn repeated. “Does Easton Island have the infrastructure to handle all the extra visitors?”

“To some extent.” Brett drummed his fingers on the table. “Except for the major holidays—Memorial Day, 4th of July, and Labor Day to name a few. Those are only the American holidays, not even accounting for the Canadian ones. The island will be packed.”

Quinn mulled over his statement. “What are your thoughts? Yay or nay?”

“Easton Holdings has always been about business and development, albeit thoughtful, planned, and managed growth. This particular group has a reputation for being aggressive.”

“Meaning they could very well build the planned resort, it exceeds expectations, and they push for more.” Quinn briefly closed her eyes. “It sounds like a potential can of worms.”

“If it was a more boutique resort that complemented the island instead of a major project guaranteed to alter the landscape, bulldozing the land, leveling the trees, I wouldn’t hesitate.”

“A smaller-scale resort would blend in,” Quinn agreed.

“Burying our heads in the sand, thinking this will blow over and go away would be a mistake.” Brett started to pace. “These deals are a dime a dozen.”

“And typically don’t affect us…until now,” Quinn said. “I’m almost certain he’ll show up at the gallery tomorrow, asking if I had a chance to talk to you.”

“I have no doubt he’s being pressured by the higher-ups to get approval. My guess is Travis’s future with the group hinges on him being able to get the needed agreement in place. He’ll be on the doorstep—and maybe even have the nerve to show up at Easton Estate—to plead his case.”

Quinn told Brett that, based on their earlier conversation, he kept popping in hoping to run into Elizabeth. “He’s going to keep showing up until he gets what he wants.”

“Grandmother knows everything about Easton Island. Who moves in. Who moves out. She mentioned it to me earlier when I questioned her about it. The group had sent a letter outlining the project and requesting a meeting. She never replied.”

“Maybe you should give her a heads-up,” she suggested.

“I was thinking the same thing.” Brett excused himself to make the call.