Wedding Transpires on Mackinac Island

by Cara C. Putman

  “That’s fine.” Alanna swallowed as the trio started down the sidewalk, Dylan tearing ahead. “Is he okay?”

  “As long as I can see him.”

  Alanna nodded and glanced at her companion out of the corner of her eye. So this was the woman Jonathan spent time with. Jaclyn had a sparkle that would attract men even if her curves in all the right places didn’t. No wonder Jonathan liked her. It shouldn’t bother her, since Alanna was an independent woman, one who didn’t need or want a man. Not even Jonathan. She almost choked on the thought.

  “How long will you stay?”

  “I’m not sure. I have to find someone for the studio before I think of leaving.”

  “Maybe I can help.”

  Sure she could. Anything to remove competition. Alanna blanched. Where had this attitude come from? Jaclyn was welcome to Jonathan. If she said it often enough, surely she’d come to mean it. Right?

  It was a theory.

  She pasted on a smile, feeling the strain. “I could use help. My leads have disappeared. The firm partners will call soon, and I’m stuck here. They won’t like that at all.”

  “I’ll check around. Send people your way.”

  “Thanks.” Whatever the motivation, she needed employees. If she could find some soon, she could focus on clearing her name. She didn’t even want to think what the partners would say when she had to tell them about the murder investigation. She hadn’t found time to open a web browser, let alone start tracking down her classmates during the day. There’d been enough customers to keep her busy. She’d start the search tonight.

  They reached the green space in front of the fort. The rows of stairs running up the steep hill exhausted Alanna each time she saw them. It didn’t matter how fit she was, her calves burned each time she climbed those steps.

  Dylan squealed and ran toward someone. “Jonathan!” Then his words blurred together as Jonathan knelt down to his level. In an instant, Alanna pictured him interacting with a daughter. Hers. He’d be an amazing dad, and his kids would be blessed.

  “I’ll call with possibilities.” Jaclyn nodded toward Dylan and Jonathan. “I’d better catch up with them. Nice to see you.”

  “Bye.” Alanna stood a moment watching the interaction between Jonathan and Jaclyn. Jonathan’s response to Jaclyn seemed less enthusiastic than his intense interaction with Dylan. Instead, he smiled, gave the pretty woman a halfhearted hug, then turned back to Dylan. Could Dylan be the reason he stayed?

  The insight surprised Alanna, and then she felt guilty for watching. If Jonathan wanted to be with Jaclyn, he was a grown man and could do what he liked.

  See, it was easier to say this time.

  It did get easier to lie to herself.

  Jonathan focused his attention on Dylan and Jaclyn, not on the beauty watching from a distance. He didn’t know whether to be annoyed or flattered at her attention. Then she left without even a small wave, and he wanted to punch something.

  He never should have violated his one-date policy. It was easier to avoid the thought of lifelong relationships if one never allowed things to advance past one or two dates.

  Jaclyn sidled up to him and tried to grab his hand, but he slid free. “Hey, isn’t Hoffmeister’s home near the Grand Hotel’s property?”

  She shook her head a bit and looked at him with a blank look. “Hoffmeister?”

  “The old guy who was murdered.”

  “Oh. I don’t know. I suppose he lived close. Jonathan, I work in the spa. Schedule appointments. I don’t know all the hotel’s neighbors. You know how big the property is, right? And then there’s the golf course.”

  “Right.”

  “Why the interest?”

  “Curiosity.”

  Dylan joined them by grabbing one of each of their hands and running then swinging as he hung between them. Jaclyn tugged him to a stop then looked at Jonathan. “Just curious? Really? You expect me to believe that?”

  “It’s not every day a murder happens here.”

  “Or every day that a long-lost love returns.” She stared him down. “I’m not saying this again, Jonathan. You have to choose, because you can’t have both of us. It’s her”—she gestured to where Alanna had stood—“or me. One or the other. Make up your mind, and let me know.” She swiped at her eyes in a short, angry chop. “Come on, Dylan. We’re going home.”

  Dylan looked over his shoulder at Jonathan, confusion twisting his face as his mom tugged him down the sidewalk.

  Jonathan took the long way home. He needed every step to pray and sort through Jaclyn’s challenge. Part of him wanted to push them both away. Reestablish his independence and live life without the risks and entanglements that getting close to a woman involved.

  Who did he love: Jaclyn or Dylan?

  It was a question he didn’t want to chase to an answer. The implications bothered him. It wasn’t right to maintain a relationship with Jaclyn for Dylan’s sake. At the same time, he couldn’t imagine facing Dylan if he did end any hope of a future with Jaclyn. Spending time with her hadn’t seemed like a bad idea when dinner with her served as an attractive alternative to another long evening alone.

  Still, it wasn’t fair to Jaclyn if Dylan held them together.

  He turned up the path to his cabin but detoured to the shed and his fishing gear. He carried his pole and tackle box to the dock. The small circles on the surface indicated fish. Maybe a couple would try his bait rather than a tasty fly. And maybe insight would hop in his mind while he waited. A guy could hope.

  Jonathan settled on the edge and baited the hook. He cast to the side and watched the bobber dip up and down in the placid pond. The chuck-chucking call of the gray jay pulled his attention to the trees. After a minute, he spotted the white face and gray feathers of the bird. Soon an answering call echoed back. Jonathan reached for the binoculars tucked in the box. Since nothing seemed to be happening with the fish, he’d scan the trees and see if the Kirtland’s warbler hid in the trees along with the gray jays.

  At the sound of steps on the dock, Jonathan swung around, the binoculars catching the midsection of someone. He lowered the device. Alanna stood a few feet away, an uncertainness in the slump of her shoulders and question in her eyes.

  “May I join you?”

  The fishing pole bobbed, so Jonathan dropped the glasses and tugged the pole up. She took his silence as an invitation and moved to sit next to him. Jonathan swallowed as he set the hook, her lilac perfume weaving around him.

  “I’m sorry about tonight.”

  He turned to look at her, noting the sadness around her eyes. “What do you mean?”

  “I don’t mean to cause trouble for you with Jaclyn.” Wistfulness softened her words.

  The pole jumped, and Jonathan tugged again. He didn’t want to let whatever fought on the other end get away.

  “I don’t do relationships well, Jonathan. I haven’t since …”

  He could fill in the thought. “Since you left.” Me. “Funny, I don’t do relationships either.”

  She pulled her knees up and wrapped her arms around them. “Guess we’re a mess.”

  “Yeah.” He gave a final tug and pulled up nothing. The hook dangled naked.

  “Guess he got away again.”

  “Who?”

  “Grandpappy.” She stood and disappeared down the dock.

  As he watched the dusk wrap around her, Grandpappy wasn’t the only one who slipped away.

  Chapter 27

  Sunday after church, Alanna returned home, grateful that Patience Matthews had been willing to work. As she settled at the small kitchen table with her laptop, Alanna knew she needed the break. Not just from the store, but to have time to investigate. The view of the pond and her mother’s gardens tried to woo her from her task of tracking down classmates. Instead, she lit a lavender candle and forced herself to focus on finding those on her list. Time passed and the distraction grew as her searches didn’t lead anywhere productive. She stared at the names she’d
copied from her yearbook, slowly crossing off each one as she located former classmates.

  With each mark, her hope that she’d learn something spiraled. Only a handful still lived on the island. She’d already run into Ginger and Piper and knew she’d bump into the other couple eventually. Still she wrote down phone numbers. A phone call might be easier than a face-to-face interview.

  When she checked the last name, she pulled the cordless in front of her and started dialing. The first several numbers had jumped to voice mail, and she dutifully left messages. If her classmates listened, she had no doubt they’d find the calls odd. After all, she hadn’t contacted any in eleven years. After reaching voicemail again, she marked that she’d left a message next to a name then stood to stretch. Guide me, Father.

  She would find the truth. She’d become tenacious to a fault for clients. Now that she could be the one landing in jail, she had even more reason to stick to this until she unraveled the tangled problem.

  A knock at the door pulled her to the front room. She opened the door, uncertain whether to smile or close the door when she saw Jonathan on the other side. She hadn’t come here to break up his relationship. But she couldn’t deny the way her heart leapt when she saw him.

  He stood a few feet back, his stance wide and hands behind him. He looked ready to tackle a day of hiking in his navy T-shirt and khaki cargo shorts. A grin tweaked only one side of his mouth, not the full-out glad-to-see-her smile she’d received even a day ago.

  “What do you need, Jonathan?”

  “Wondered if you had time for a field trip?”

  “A field trip? This is my first day off, and I’ve got a list of calls to make.” Though she’d really wrapped those up.

  “Since it’s your first day, let me take you on a tour.”

  She studied him, uncertain what he was up to but knowing the unknown with him was more appealing than another round of messages. “I grew up here. I don’t think I need a tour.”

  “You do today.”

  Alanna crossed her arms and leaned against the door frame.

  “I want to ride out to Hoffmeister’s house. He was having that property dispute.”

  “I know that.”

  “Let’s poke around. See if we can find anything up there that might shed some light on things. At the same time, you can see the perspective he had for the accident.”

  A breeze ruffled her hair as if teasing her to go play. Maybe she could combine a bit of fun with investigating. She could maintain a professional distance with Jonathan. She did it all the time in Grand Rapids, though none of the men she worked with were her first love.

  “Come on.”

  “Let me lock up.” She grabbed her keys and cell phone then closed and locked the door. When she started toward the shed and her bike, Jonathan stopped her.

  “I’ve got it covered.”

  “Covered?”

  “Come on.”

  She hesitated then followed him toward the road. Only then did she notice the tandem bike leaning against the fence. “Jonathan …”

  “I’ll ride in front, and this way you won’t confront a scene unexpectedly again. If you still freeze, I can get you home.”

  She didn’t know whether to be touched or furious. “I’m not that weak.”

  He held his hands up. “I never said you were.” He straddled the bike and steadied it. “Climb on.”

  It seemed romantic and intimate, being that close and letting him control where they went. Still, she found herself climbing behind him and grasping the handlebars. It had been years since she’d ridden a tandem bike. She blocked the image of the romantic sunset picnic they’d shared from her mind. One stray thought that direction and she’d never recover. All the dreams she’d harbored for them would rush over her. She swallowed and closed her eyes, forcing herself to stay.

  “It’ll take a few minutes to find our balance.” She wanted to correct him. Every time she was near him, her careful equilibrium abandoned her faster than a racehorse leaving the starting gate. He pushed off, and she gripped the handlebars. “Here we go.”

  The bike teetered on the verge of calamity as they bumped across the path. Alanna tried to focus on the trail but decided it was better if she looked at anything except where they were headed. Nobody wanted a backseat driver, especially on a tandem bike. But when she pinned her gaze on what was in front of her, she stared at the expanse of his shoulders. Now she didn’t know where to look.

  Finally, Jonathan steered them off the trail to a smoother path. Her teeth quit jarring, and she glanced around.

  “Where does this path go?”

  He glanced over his shoulder then turned back to the path. “I forgot it’s new since you left. It’s kind of a back pass as it skirts the golf course and then reaches that collection of homes where Hoffmeister lives.”

  “Lived.”

  Jonathan nodded. “It saves time from going through town to the paved street and then around the island on Lake Shore.”

  Only the sound of the tires against the path broke the background music of tree branches fanning and birds singing. Alanna glanced around, trying to spot some of the songbirds, surprised Jonathan didn’t. “I thought you were a birder.”

  “I am. There’s not much I haven’t seen along this path though. There are only so many places to go without swimming.”

  Alanna laughed at the image that generated. Jonathan in full birding gear, vest stuffed with a guide in every pocket and a hat and binoculars, flailing his way to the mainland.

  “So what are we hearing?”

  Did she really want to know? Alanna had never expressed an interest before. Instead, she’d called it odd the summer he started getting interested. Maybe she needed the distraction right now. He could humor her.

  “The beecher-beecher-beecher comes from a Connecticut warbler. I wouldn’t normally expect to hear one here. Guess the undergrowth is dense enough.” He listened a moment. “The abrupt clicking comes from a black-backed woodpecker. He must not like the company.” A small brown bird flew from one tree to another. “There goes the boreal chickadee.”

  “Where do you like to go birding?”

  “The backyard. With the pond and all the trees, I really don’t have to wander far to see a variety. To see any great number though, I do have to get to the mainland. Either side works, depending on my mood and how far I want to roam.” As a fork in the road neared, he slowed. “I haven’t gotten away for a while.” He pointed down one path. “After this turn, you’ll see the golf course. Watch for flying golf balls. Some of the visitors think they’re better golfers than they are.”

  “Tell me about this neighborhood. Mr. Hoffmeister’s house sat by itself …”

  He could hear her unspoken back then. A lot had changed. “He broke up his piece and subdivided it. Sold the lots and made a nice penny. You’ll see the homes are pretty standard. Small cottages with a Victorian flair. He sold the lot next to his house last.”

  “How many houses?”

  “Five or six. Not too many. And most of them are occupied by weekenders. They come for a week or two at a time and rent the homes the rest of the time.”

  “Keep the tourists coming.”

  Jonathan nodded as they rounded a corner and the gated entrance to the Wawashkamo Golf Course came into view.

  “Jonathan, why didn’t we take Leslie Road? Why the roundabout?”

  “It’s your day off.” Guess he should have known she’d question his path once she understood where they were.

  “I think the thick trees will protect us from any misdirected golf balls.” Alanna seemed to turn behind him. “You sure you should be in front?”

  He pushed harder against the pedals, propelling the tandem bike across the crushed gravel. “Yep.”

  Quiet fell as they pedaled the rest of the way to Straits Trail. Here’s where Alanna needed him. She’d keep going on Stonecliffe, never connecting to Morton Trail. That trail hadn’t led much of anywhere when she lived here. N
ow the group of homes strung between the two.

  The bike bounced across the trail. A mountain bike would have been better suited but not as much fun as having Alanna immediately behind him. He turned slightly and flicked a thumb in the other direction. “Here’s the start of the homes.” Alanna glanced around, and he turned back to the front. “Mr. Hoffmeister’s home is up here a bit.”

  “He had such a great location. Secluded. Great view of Lake Huron. Relatively close to town. I wonder why he sold land.”

  “I heard the fudge shop had money problems. Needed the cash infusion.” Could those cash-flow problems have pushed him to skim money from the foundation? He didn’t seem like the type to do anything like that. He’d always seemed like an honorable man when Jonathan interacted with him.

  “Hmm. I’m surprised he didn’t find another way. He always valued his privacy.”

  “Maybe he did. Do you think he could have created the fake accounts?”

  Silence followed his question. “I don’t know.” Alanna sighed, her breath tickling his neck. “I hate to think about him that way.”

  “Still, there are only a handful of people who would have access to create those accounts.”

  “Guess we need to figure out who else could have done it. Those accounts were created during his presidency, so it’s not Tomkin.”

  “Could be anyone on the board.”

  “How easy would it be for someone on the board to do it?”

  Jonathan thought a moment. “Outside the bookkeeper? It wouldn’t be easy at all.”

  “Who was the bookkeeper then?”

  “I’m not sure. I’ve only been on the board since Gerald came on. Here we are.” Jonathan stopped the bike in front of the small Victorian cottage. On the surface it looked well maintained, but when he looked closer, Jonathan saw peeling paint and a lack of landscaping. Mr. Hoffmeister had let the details go.

  Alanna slid off the bike, and the weight shifted, bumping the bike against his calves. She walked toward the side yard and around to the front. “We came here once for a barbecue. It had been a hard winter. Lots of snow and bitter cold. Even more than usual.” She turned and studied the house. “Everybody was so glad to see the snow melt, and Mr. Hoffmeister invited the church over for a spring celebration. He loved the impromptu baseball game and the wild game of tag.”