“Why not?”
“Because...”She stopped, weary of the same thoughts ping-ponging through her mind.
She deliberately changed the subject.“Oh, I almost forgot.I found something interesting when I was researching the festival finances.”She pulled out her phone and opened her notes.“The lighthouse was privately funded during the 1940s through a holding company.I traced the corporate registration.One of the officers was named James S.Copeland.”
Winnie’s face went carefully blank in a way that reminded Cassidy of high-stakes negotiations where everyone was hiding their cards.“Copeland is a common name,” Winnie said.
“From Cambridge, Massachusetts.The same Copeland family that had a vacation home here in Starlight Shores.”Cassidy watched Winnie’s face.“That seems like an odd connection.A wealthy Massachusetts family funding a Gulf Coast lighthouse during wartime.”
“A lot of people have vacation homes here.”Winnie’s voice was pleasant but distant.
“Right.”She got the distinct impression she was being redirected.“I just thought it was interesting.”
“I’m sure it’s in the historical records somewhere.”Winnie picked at an imaginary speck on her skirt.
“Well, I guess I should go in.Hope the storm doesn’t get too bad and mess with the festival plans.”
“Storms don’t always listen to reason.”Winnie stood.“Time for me to go in too.”
Cassidy headed to Heron Cottage.She stepped inside and flipped on the light.Her phone buzzed again.More messages piling up.David with logistics.Steve Hodges with a passive-aggressive note about transition planning.
The life she’d built was calling her home.
She crossed over to the window and watched the lighthouse beam sweep past.All she could think of was Bryan’s face when he’d asked her to leave.She realized something fundamental had shifted.The corner office didn’t feel like such a victory anymore.
And she had forty-eight hours—well, less than that now—to decide if she was brave enough to walk away from it.
