Total pages in book: 108
Estimated words: 102280 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 511(@200wpm)___ 409(@250wpm)___ 341(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 102280 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 511(@200wpm)___ 409(@250wpm)___ 341(@300wpm)
“You’ve documented this?”
“Extensively. Photographs and detailed notes comparing the actual structure to the 1847 blueprints.”
Mrs. Whitman stood abruptly, her chair scraping against the floor. “You should discontinue this research, Miss Morgan. Some historical questions are better left unexamined.”
“Why? What are you afraid I’ll discover?”
“I’m not afraid of anything. I’m concerned about a young woman becoming obsessed with local legends and unfounded speculation.”
Lily’s jaw clenched. “Then give me access to the restricted archives. Let me see the actual records about Catherine Hartwell and other unusual incidents at the lighthouse. If there’s nothing to hide, the documentation will speak for itself.”
Mrs. Whitman’s mouth formed a thin line. “I’ll need to discuss your request with the board of directors. The historical society policy requires unanimous approval for restricted archive access.”
“How long will that take?”
“Two weeks minimum. Possibly longer.”
“I’ll submit a formal written request today.”
“As you wish.” Mrs. Whitman’s tone suggested distaste for the entire conversation. “But I strongly advise focusing your research on less controversial aspects of local history.”
Lily left the historical society more convinced than ever that she’d stumbled onto something significant. The defensive reactions, restricted access, warnings about controversial research—all pointed toward secrets people were actively protecting.
Walking back toward school, her mind returned to the woman. The photographs showed empty rocks, but Lily’s memory of the encounter remained vivid and detailed. She’d seen something at the lighthouse, something that didn’t register on film but felt completely real.
Maybe cameras couldn’t capture everything. Maybe some truths existed beyond conventional documentation.
The thought both thrilled and terrified her.
Whatever people were hiding about the lighthouse’s history, Lily would find it. Even if it meant challenging every assumption about reality, she’d ever held.
The restricted archives would have to wait two weeks, but her research could continue in other directions. Newspaper microfilm, death records, census data—multiple ways existed to investigate Catherine Hartwell’s story.
If Mrs. Whitman thought a two-week delay would discourage her, the woman clearly didn’t understand the depth of Lily’s determination.
Some secrets were worth fighting for, even if the fight meant questioning everything she thought she knew about the world.
four
The Westerly Cove Historical Society occupied a converted Victorian mansion on Elm Street, its gingerbread trim painted cream and sage. Lily had walked past it dozens of times without giving it much thought, but now she studied the building with fresh purpose, noting the brass plaques by the door that advertised “Research Library” and “Genealogical Services.”
Mrs. Pennington answered the door herself, a woman in her seventies with silver hair pulled back in a neat bun and reading glasses hanging from a beaded chain. Her smile wavered as she evaluated her visitor.
“Miss Morgan? You called about lighthouse research?”
“Yes, ma’am. I’m working on a senior thesis about the lighthouse’s role in local maritime history. Mrs. Warren said there are boxes of photographs and documents here, some haven’t been catalogued yet.” Mrs. Pennington didn’t budge, Lily added, “I also believe you know my father, Robert Morgan.”
The older woman’s posture relaxed. “Oh, yes. Robert’s girl. I remember when you were small, you used to come to the library with your mother for story time.” She stepped aside. “Come in, dear. Though I should warn you, our lighthouse materials are quite limited.”
The interior retained its Victorian character, with dark wood paneling and heavy furniture that absorbed light. Mrs. Pennington led Lily through a parlor converted into a reading room, past glass cases displaying ship models and faded photographs of Westerly Cove’s harbor from decades past.
“The research collection is upstairs,” Mrs. Pennington explained as they climbed a narrow staircase. “We’ve organized everything by subject, though it remains somewhat eclectic.”
The second floor housed a series of small rooms, each devoted to different aspects of local history. Mrs. Pennington opened a door marked “Maritime & Coastal” and gestured Lily inside.
The room was cramped but cozy, with tall windows overlooking Westerly Cove’s harbor. Metal filing cabinets lined the walls, while a large oak table dominated the center space. Cardboard boxes stacked on shelves bore labels including “Shipping Records 1890-1920” and “Coast Guard Reports - Various.”
“The lighthouse files are in that cabinet,” Mrs. Pennington pointed to a gray metal unit near the window. “Construction records, keeper’s logs, maintenance reports. Most of it’s quite dry, I’m afraid. The more interesting maritime history involves the fishing industry and coastal trade.”
Lily set down her backpack and pulled out a yellow legal pad and several pens. “I’d like to start with the construction records, if that’s acceptable. I want to understand the lighthouse’s original purpose and how it evolved over time.”
“Certainly. I’ll be downstairs if you need anything. We ask that you handle the documents carefully—some are quite fragile. And please don’t remove anything from the building.”
After Mrs. Pennington departed, Lily opened the filing cabinet and explored its contents. The top drawer contained manila folders labeled by decade, starting with the 1880s. She pulled out the earliest folder and settled at the oak table.