Some people would find the lighthouse beam comforting.
Emily just hadn’t expected to be one of them.
Chapter2
Emily woke to sunlight streaming through her cottage windows and the sound of waves rolling onto shore. For a moment, she lay still, letting the peacefulness wash over her. Then yesterday’s events came flooding back—the long drive, Winnie’s knowing eyes, the studio door she’d locked because she couldn’t bear to look at it.
She sat up slowly, testing the feeling. No upset stomach. No immediate urge to pack her bags and run. Just a quiet morning in a cottage by a lighthouse, as far from Chicago as she could manage.
Her phone showed a single notification. She braced herself before checking it.
An email from her lawyer. Subject line: “Holloway Update.”
She punched the delete button without reading the email. Whatever Julian Holloway was doing now, she didn’t want to know. That was the whole point of running away—no,traveling—to Florida.
She forced herself out of bed and into the shower, letting the hot water wash away the grogginess of sleeping in her clothes. When she emerged, she felt slightly more human. She pulled on clean shorts and a soft t-shirt, then ventured into the small kitchen to make coffee.
The coffee maker was ancient but functional. While it gurgled and hissed, she stood at the window watching the morning light play across the lighthouse. The white paint seemed to glow in the early sun, and she found herself cataloging details automatically. She noted the way the cylindrical form caught the light, the contrast between the smooth tower and rough stone base, and the delicate ironwork of the gallery railing.
Stop analyzing it like you’re going to paint it. You don’t paint anymore.
A knock at her door interrupted the familiar spiral of self-recrimination.
“Emily? It’s Winnie. I brought breakfast if you’re hungry.”
She opened the door to find Winnie holding a basket covered with a blue-checked cloth. The older woman looked fresh and energetic despite the early hour, and her silver hair was neatly braided.
“I hope I’m not intruding. I just thought you might like something more substantial than whatever you managed to pack in that car.”
“You’re not intruding. Come in. I was just making coffee, but I’m pretty sure it’s terrible coffee.”
“Then it’s a good thing I brought some of my own.” Winnie swept into the cottage and began unpacking the basket on the small kitchen table. Fresh blueberry muffins, still warm. Butter. Strawberries. And a thermos that smelled infinitely better than whatever was brewing in Emily’s pot.
“You don’t have to feed me.” Her stomach betrayed her with an audible growl.
“I don’t have to do anything. I want to.” Winnie poured coffee from her thermos into two mugs. “Besides, I have an ulterior motive. I’m curious about you.”
Her defenses rose immediately. “Curious how?”
“Relax, dear. I’m not going to interrogate you.” Winnie settled into a chair and gestured for Emily to do the same. “I’ve had enough residents come through these cottages to recognize someone who’s running from something. You don’t have to tell me what. But I did want to check that you’re all right. That you’re not in any danger.”
The directness caught her off guard. “I’m not in physical danger. Just... legal complications. And reputational ones.”
“Ah.” Winnie buttered a muffin and took a bite. “The kind where you did nothing wrong but everyone assumes you did?”
Her throat tightened. “Something like that.”
“Well, you’ll find that Starlight Shores is a good place for starting over. People here don’t much care what the internet says about you.”
They ate in comfortable silence for a few minutes. The muffins were tender and sweet with bursts of berry flavor. She realized she hadn’t eaten a real meal in days.
“Did the lighthouse light bother you last night?”
“Not at all. I actually… enjoyed it.”
“I thought you might. The lighthouse is quite something, isn’t it?”
“It’s beautiful. The architecture is fascinating. It’s late 1800s construction, I’d guess?”
