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)
“Maybe they’re just protective of local history. Small towns can be sensitive about their past.”
“Perhaps.” Lily studied the guarded responses she’d met—active concealment rather than protective discretion. “But I think they’re hiding something specific.”
Sarah capped her pen and leaned back in her chair. “Such as?”
“I don’t know yet. But architectural inconsistencies, incomplete records, and the way people react when I ask questions . . .” She gestured at photographs spread across the table. “Someone’s not telling the whole story.”
“And you want to figure out what it is.”
“I need to determine what it is. This isn’t just curiosity anymore. Something important is hidden in that lighthouse’s history.”
Afternoon sun slanted through the library windows as they packed up their materials. Lily’s manila folders were thick with photographs and documentation now, but each answer generated three new questions.
“Come on,” Sarah said, checking her watch. “If we hurry, we can grab something from the cafeteria before fifth period.”
But Lily was already thinking ahead to dinner, to the conversation she needed to have with her parents. The architectural evidence was solid, but her mother and father might know details that weren’t preserved in any official record.
The Morgan family dinner table had become Lily’s unofficial research headquarters. Her photographs were organized in manila folders, her notes were typed up and bound in a three-ring binder, and her growing collection of historical documents was arranged in chronological order.
“So what have you learned?” Martha asked, passing the meatloaf. Her tone was encouraging, but Lily caught a slight tension in her mother’s voice.
“The lighthouse has been modified extensively since its original construction.” Lily pulled out several of her best photographs. “These images demonstrate clear evidence of reconstruction work, probably in the 1920s.”
Robert examined the photographs with his methodical attention. His maintenance background meant he understood construction techniques better than most. “The stonework is definitely different,” he acknowledged. “But that’s not unusual for a building that old. They probably needed to reinforce the foundation against storm damage.”
“Examine the scale of modifications,” Lily insisted, arranging photos to demonstrate the full extent of changes. “This wasn’t routine maintenance. They rebuilt entire sections of the structure.”
“Major renovations require major funding,” Martha observed. “Did you find records of who paid for all this work?”
“Sarah thinks her mom could help us get old building permits at town hall.”
Robert’s fork stopped halfway to his mouth. “Building permits from the 1920s?”
“Construction records, contractor invoices, maybe architectural plans. Major renovation projects generate documentation.”
“Lily.” Robert’s voice carried a warning tone she’d heard before. “You’re talking about official town records. That’s not the same as looking through newspaper archives.”
“I know. But this is for my senior project. I need primary sources, not just newspaper clippings.”
Martha reached across the table and squeezed Lily’s hand. “Honey, are you sure this is the direction you want to take your research? You could explore so many aspects of lighthouse history.”
“What do you mean?”
“The keepers’ families, the role of lighthouses in maritime safety, and technology changes over decades.” Martha’s voice stayed gentle but insistent. “You’re focusing on one small period and one specific building. Maybe it’s time to broaden your scope.”
Heat built in Lily’s chest. “But this is where the interesting questions are. Why did they rebuild the lighthouse in the 1920s? What did they try to achieve with these modifications? And why don’t the official records match the physical evidence?”
“Maybe because official records are incomplete,” Robert suggested. “Small towns in the 1920s didn’t always maintain perfect documentation.”
“Or maybe because someone didn’t want the full story preserved,” Lily countered.
Martha and Robert exchanged a look that Lily couldn’t interpret, but she sensed a conversation happening without words.
“That’s a serious accusation,” Robert said finally. “You’re suggesting some kind of deliberate cover-up.”
“I’m suggesting that the evidence doesn’t match official history. And when I try to ask questions about it, people get uncomfortable.”
“What kind of uncomfortable?”
Lily described her interactions with Harold and Mrs. Pennington, how both had shut down when she pressed for details about the lighthouse’s past. “They know something they don’t want to discuss.”
Martha stayed quiet for a long moment, her fingers drumming against her water glass. “Lily, every old building has rumors and stories attached to it. That doesn’t mean conspiracy theories are true.”
“But what if something worth hiding exists?” Lily pressed. “What if the modifications in the 1920s connected to something illegal or dangerous?”
“Such as?” Robert’s voice grew sharper.
“I don’t know. Prohibition was in effect then—maybe they used the lighthouse for smuggling. Or maybe safety issues existed that they wanted to cover up. The point is, I won’t know unless I can access construction records.”
Robert pushed his plate away, his appetite apparently gone. “Lily, I need you to think very carefully about what you’re doing. You’re talking about accusing respected community members of covering up historical crimes. That’s not just research—that’s making enemies.”
“I’m not accusing anyone of anything. I’m just trying to understand why the physical evidence doesn’t match the official story.”