Clint turned toward his aunt. “She’s set up her equipment in the common area again. Right on the pathway. We’ve talked about this.”
“I need this specific angle.” Melissa didn’t look at Winnie, keeping her attention fixed on her camera. “The morning light creates shadows on the lighthouse that I can’t capture from anywhere else.”
Winnie walked closer, her steps measured and unhurried. She studied Melissa’s setup for a long moment, then turned to examine the sight lines from each cottage.
“You’re right that this angle offers a unique perspective,” Winnie said finally. “And Clint is right that the courtyard is shared space.”
Neither party looked satisfied with this even-handed assessment.
She turned to Clint. “But I don’t think her equipment will really bother the other guests. Most of them don’t really use the courtyard until later in the mornings anyway.”
Melissa looked triumphantly at Clint.
Winnie then turned to Melissa and pointed toward a spot about six feet to the left. “That location gives you nearly the same angle while staying outside the direct pathway between cottages. You can set up there for your morning shots.”
Melissa opened her mouth as if to argue, then closed it again. She gave a single, sharp nod. “That will work.”
Winnie made it sound light, but Emily recognized the skill in what she’d just witnessed. Winnie had given each person something while requiring compromise from both. Neither had won completely, but neither had been dismissed either.
Melissa began breaking down her tripod without another word. Clint stood watching for a moment, his expression unreadable, before turning and walking toward the maintenance shed with deliberate steps.
Winnie remained in the courtyard, her gaze following first one, then the other. She turned and caught sight of Emily on her porch. The woman’s expression shifted to something warmer, and she crossed the courtyard in quick steps.
“Good morning.” Winnie paused at the bottom of Emily’s porch steps. “I hope the excitement didn’t disturb your coffee.”
Emily glanced down at her mug. “It’s gone cold anyway. That was some impressive mediation.”
Winnie smiled. “Practice. I’ve been navigating lighthouse politics for more decades than I care to count.”
“They seemed pretty worked up for a dispute about camera placement.”
“It’s never really about the camera placement.”Winnie settled onto the porch step without waiting for an invitation. “May I?”
“Of course. Can I get you some coffee? Fair warning, mine’s terrible, but I could make fresh.”
“I’m fine, thank you. I had my fill this morning while reading the newspaper. Or trying to. The local paper has gotten distressingly thin. I remember when it was a proper newspaper with real investigative journalism.”
“I noticed the Beacon has a historical column,” Emily said. “Marty Fuller writes about the town’s history. It even has a one hundred years ago and fifty years ago column.”
“Marty runs Tides and Tales, the bookstore downtown. I think I mentioned that to you. Lovely man. Passionate about preserving local stories. You should visit his shop.”
“I should drop by. I’d love to pick up a novel or two to read.”
Emily glanced out to the courtyard and saw Melissa packing up her gear. She must have gotten the shots she wanted.
Winnie leaned back against the porch railing. “So, did you look at the journal more last night?”
The journal. Emily had almost forgotten about it in the drama of the morning argument. “I read through more of it. Your ancestor’s documentation is somewhat vague. References to visitors who came and asked questions, but they were told nothing. Notes about sequences and confirmations, although I couldn’t figure out all the entries.”
“My grandfather was meticulous about his records. Sometimes too meticulous for his own good.” Winnie stood, brushing invisible dust from her skirt. “Anyway, I should get back to my chores.” She started down the porch steps, then paused. “We’re having our usual Friday gathering in the courtyard this evening. Nothing fancy. Just neighbors sharing a meal and conversation. You’d be welcome to join us.”
“I’m not much for group socializing right now.”
Winnie’s face remained neutral. “I understand. But the invitation stands. Sometimes the best way to stop running is to stand still long enough to let people catch up to you.”
She walked away before Emily could respond.
Emily sat for a long time after Winnie left, watching the morning light shift across the lighthouse’s white walls. The structure itself seemed to pulse with secrets. How many people had stood where she sat now, watching the same lighthouse and wondering about the stories it held?
