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)
five
Old paper and bleach tanged the air inside the Rhode Island Historical Preservation Commission office in Providence. Lily spread her research across the reception desk, folders thick with three weeks of archive work weighing down her backpack.
“You’ve dug deeper than most college students.” Dr. Patricia Henley, Captain Henley’s granddaughter, unrolled blueprints across the conference table. “High school students usually arrive clutching Wikipedia printouts.”
“I want the facts right.” Lily adjusted her camera strap and pulled out her notebook. “The lighthouse anchors our town’s maritime story.”
Lily traced the original 1847 plans with her finger. The lighthouse emerged in elegant simplicity—stone foundation, brick tower, keeper’s house connected by a covered walkway. Then, the modifications jumped out at her, marked in different ink. Someone had expanded the basement in 1892. Storage rooms appeared in 1904. A notation in faded pencil caught her eye: “ventilation improvements” dated 1923.
“Major changes happened in the 1920s.” Lily tapped the blueprint with her pen. “Why then?”
“Storm damage repairs, mostly. The 1923 hurricane hammered this coast.” Dr. Henley pointed to the modification markings. “The keeper then—Edmund Hawthorne—requested foundation reinforcement and lower-level expansion.”
Lily wrote notes in quick shorthand, connecting Edmund Hawthorne to Prohibition. Lighthouse keepers needing bigger basements right when coastal smuggling peaked. She kept her face neutral.
“Could you arrange a lighthouse tour? My dad can only show me so much. I need to see these modifications today.”
“I’ll call the current caretaker. Gerald Aldrich maintains the property—Thomas’s great-grandson. He knows every stone.”
Dr. Henley dialed and spoke quietly. Lily caught fragments: “serious student,” “thorough research,” “family connection.” Dr. Henley hung up.
“Tuesday at 2 PM. Gerald will give you complete access.”
“Everything that’s structurally safe?”
“Everything worth seeing. He’s proud of the restoration work.” Dr. Henley rolled up the blueprints. “The structure looks better now than it has in decades.”
Lily drove back to Westerly Cove. She’d positioned herself as a legitimate researcher, gained access to restricted areas, and secured a guide with direct family connections to the most interesting period. Dr. Henley’s casual mention of Gerald’s restoration work raised questions—what exactly had he restored, and why?
Tuesday afternoon brought crisp air and perfect photography light. Lily reached the structure fifteen minutes early, giving herself time to load fresh film and review her questions. She’d organized her inquiries to sound academic rather than investigative.
Gerald Aldrich emerged from the keeper’s house, wiping his hands on a cloth. Decades of coastal maintenance had weathered his face and deepened his tan. He smiled warmly.
“Miss Morgan? Gerald Aldrich. Dr. Henley says you’re researching our local history.”
“Thank you for making time. I know you must stay busy.”
“Always happy to help someone who appreciates the past.” He unlocked the door and gestured inside. “Dr. Henley mentioned serious background research. Rare for someone your age.”
Lily followed him into the base, notebook ready. Gerald’s commentary revealed details she’d missed during childhood visits. He pointed out repair patches from different decades, explained equipment functions, and shared family stories that brought the building’s past to life.
“My great-grandfather Thomas kept this light burning during the worst storms.” Gerald started up the spiral stairs, his voice echoing in the narrow space. “The 1920s tested every keeper on this coast—constant storms, heavy shipping traffic, economic chaos.”
“The newspaper archives mentioned the 1923 hurricane.” Lily paused on the stairs, chest tight. “Edmund must have had nerves of steel to remain here during something that powerful.”
“Family legend says he never left for three straight days. Hurricane winds tried to tear the roof off, but he kept the light burning every minute.” Pride filled Gerald’s voice. “That separated real keepers from ordinary men.”
They reached the lantern room. Gerald showed her the massive Fresnel lens installed in 1887, its prisms catching afternoon sunlight and throwing rainbows across the curved walls. Through the windows, the harbor spread below—boats bobbing at anchor, the town stretching inland, the rocky coastline extending in both directions.
“This view is incredible.” Lily raised her camera. “Can I photograph everything?”
“Go ahead. Just watch yourself around the lens—we can’t replace it.”
Lily fired off shots from multiple angles, but something bothered her. The room felt smaller than it should. She checked her memory of the blueprints, then studied the eastern wall.
“The room appears smaller than the original plans showed.” She lowered her camera. “Did someone modify the space?”
Gerald nodded. “Interior changes in the 1940s, when they automated the beacon. They needed storage more than lantern room space by then.”
The explanation sounded reasonable, but the wall looked wrong. The newer bricks didn’t match the original construction—different color, different texture, different mortar joints. Someone had built this wall decades after the initial construction.
“Could we see the basement? I want to understand the 1920s storage additions.”
“Sure thing. Though you won’t find it as interesting as up here.”
Gerald led her through the keeper’s house to a door Lily had never noticed. It opened onto steep stairs descending into the foundation. Cool air rose from below, carrying saltwater and damp stone.