Chapter2
The path from the lighthouse cottages into town was crushed shell and sand.It was picturesque and probably photographed daily by tourists who thought it was charming.
She walked like she was late for a meeting.
Her wedges sank with each step.The shells crunched and shifted.She had to adjust her pace to keep from twisting an ankle.This was why cities had sidewalks.Sidewalks were efficient and didn’t fight back.
The morning air was already thick.She could feel sweat forming at her hairline.Her blazer was a mistake.Everything about this place was a mistake.
A pelican dove into the water near the shore.The splash was enormous and startled her.She was used to pigeons that scattered when you walked past, not prehistoric-looking birds that could probably carry off a small dog.
She kept walking.
The town emerged gradually.First, a bait shop with a hand-painted sign that said “Captain Roy’s - Open When We’re Here.”It was seven in the morning, and the lights were off.
You’re missing the morning demographic.Fishermen are up before dawn.This is poor customer service.
She passed a faded wooden sign that said “Welcome to Starlight Shores - A Small Town with a Big Heart.”The paint was peeling.The post leaned slightly to the left.Someone had stapled festival flyers to it at random angles.No consistent branding.No clear call to action.
She pulled one off to examine it.
Annual Harbor Festival - July 12-14
Boat Parade!Fresh Seafood!Local Art!
Come Celebrate Our Heritage
The clip art lighthouse looked like it had been downloaded from a free website in 1997.The text was in three different fonts.There was no website listed, no social media handles, just a phone number for more information.
She folded the flyer and put it in her blazer pocket.She wasn’t sure why.Professional habit, maybe.The instinct to identify problems even when they weren’t hers to solve.
The main street opened up ahead.It ran parallel to the waterfront, with a post office, a general store with a faded sign reading Bayview, a bookstore called Tides & Tales, and a coffee shop with outdoor tables and a chalkboard menu.Everything was painted in soft pastels with shades of seafoam green, pale coral, and light blue, as if the whole place had agreed on a weathered color palette and stuck to it.
She passed a small gallery with local art in the window and a restaurant with a wooden sign shaped like a sandpiper.
Tourists wandered in couples and families, sunburned and relaxed.Others—locals, she assumed—stopped to chat on corners and waved to each other across the street.
It was aggressively charming.She felt like an anthropologist observing a foreign culture.
She checked her watch.She’d made the walk in twelve minutes.The cottage rental information had said it was a leisurely twenty-minute stroll into town.
She’d saved eight minutes.The small victory felt hollow.
She ended up at the coffee shop, Harbor Brew, because caffeine was non-negotiable and she hadn’t thought to check if the cottage had a coffee maker.Through the glass, she could see people moving inside.Real people.Potential witnesses to her continued existence.
She stopped at the door, straightened her blazer, and checked her reflection in the window.The humidity had already won the battle with her hair.Fine.She’d deal with it.
She pulled the door open.
The air conditioning hit her first.Then the smell of coffee.Dark roast.The good kind.The kind that meant someone here took caffeine seriously.
The space was bigger than it looked from the outside.Exposed brick walls.Mismatched furniture that was probably called eclectic instead of we-couldn’t-afford-a-matching-set.Nautical decor that walked the line between charming and excessive.There was a ship’s wheel on one wall and vintage photos of fishing boats on another.A large chalkboard menu with actual chalk handwriting hung behind the counter.
People sat scattered at different tables.An elderly man was reading a newspaper.Two women huddled over coffee cups, deep in conversation.They all looked up when she entered.
The assessment was immediate.Her blazer, shoes, and her whole vibe screamed outsider.
The man went back to his newspaper.The women kept staring.
