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Even Adam had to admit it was charming. Several weathered wooden bookshelves and glass display cases were placed against the walls, along with an old-fashioned wooden desk and chair. A brass telescope stood at the front window facing the ocean, and nautical instruments and other personal items were arranged neatly on the shelves.
“We turned it into a kind of mini-museum with some of the furnishings from the house,” Bee explained. “That’s Captain Marcus, of course.”
She indicated the painting hanging between the windows. Adam peered closely at the portrait of a handsome, dark-haired man looking both serious and proud in a Navy captain’s uniform, a brass telescope held in his arms. His hat rested on a table beside him, and the background displayed a stretch of the ocean and a cloud-laced sky.
“We also usually have a portrait of him right at the entrance to the library, but it’s off display because it’s being cleaned,” Bee explained.
“Can we take some shots of this one later?” Adam asked.
“Of course.” Bee gazed the painting, admiration shining in her eyes. “We also have hundreds of photos of Captain Marcus and his family in the archives. He was very handsome and photogenic. He was a fascinating person, too—well-read, a wonderful musician and singer, an excellent captain. He adored his nieces and nephews and paid for their full education. He’s the reason Bliss Cove became the town it is today. All of his plans focused on what would both foster community and preserve the natural beauty of the coastline. He was really ahead of his time.”
A tight sensation uncoiled in Adam’s chest. Jealousy? Was he kidding? He was havingjealousfeelings about Bee’s admiration for a long-dead sea captain who was now allegedly a ghost?
He could almost hear all his old colleagues in the science community, not to mention his father, laughing at the stupid idea.
“How do you know so much about Marcus?” he asked.
“He left a great deal of correspondence and journals behind,” Bee explained. “A rather astonishing amount, considering he died so young. No one has even gone through it all yet because there’s so much.”
“Is it all stored here?”
“Most of it is in the basement archives, yes.” Bee gestured to the shelves. “And these are all items that used to belong to Captain Marcus, which I think is one of the reasons his presence is so strong in the cupola. Either he didn’t bring these things with him on his final journey or he had separate items for the ship and his house.”
Adam stepped closer to one of the cabinets, which contained worn books—atlases, prayer books, a Bible—a pistol and a sailor’s knife, a belt buckle, a wooden shaving kit, candlesticks, and what looked like a music box.
“We know for sure that he had his sailor’s chest with him because no sailor worth his salt would set sail without his chest.” Bee put her hand on the open lid of a large chest next to the shelf. Inside were articles of clothing and folded linen bags. “So since we don’t have Captain Marcus’s actual chest, the Historical Museum gave us this one to display. It’s authentic nineteenth century. Same with the nautical instruments.”
Adam studied the instruments displayed on another shelf—Gunter scales, quadrants, forestaffs, dividers, and compasses. Beside it was a stack of well-worn contemporary children’s books about ships and pirates, and a couple of reading chairs and bean bags.
“So anyone can come up here?” he asked.
“That was the point.” She let out a sigh.“The cupola was actually closed up when I started working here. I thought it was such a lovely room, so I asked Pearl, who was the head librarian at the time, if I could open it up as a little museum and reading room. She gave me the okay, but then we found out that we couldn’t allow anyone to come up here because of accessibility and coding issues. Which, as I’m sure you’ve gathered, is a bit of a problem throughout the house. I’ve been working on figuring out how to make it accessible, but it would mean a major renovation of the house’s architecture. And that’s obviously not in the cards.”
“So what do you use the room for?” he asked.
“Nothing, really.” She shrugged. “Well, I guess Captain Marcus still enjoys being here. I come up here every day to dust and straighten things out, but it’s not part of the library the way I’d envisioned.”
Adam approached the telescope and looked through the scope, adjusting the focus. The historic boardwalk appeared—people wandering over the weathered wood planks, the ocean creasing and rolling around it, the Ferris wheel still against the gray sky. The afternoon sunlight glittered over everything like a magician casting a spell.
“It’s beautiful.” He turned the telescope farther west toward the lighthouse, then straightened to glance at Bee. “Was this John’s telescope?”
“Yes, it’s the same one in the portrait. Though his ghost doesn’t use it to look out to sea.” She took hold of the scope and pointed it back to the boardwalk. “Every morning when I come in here to open the curtains and make sure everything is ready for the day, the telescope is always pointing at the boardwalk. Regardless of how it was left the previous afternoon.”
Adam raised an eyebrow. “And you think that has something to do with John Marcus?”
“Well, I don’t think it has something to do with Pablo Picasso,” Bee replied dryly. “I’ve actually tested it, too. Several times when I’m closing, I’ve pointed the telescope in another direction. The next morning, without fail, it’s back focused on the boardwalk. You’d think a ship captain would be assessing the weather or watching for ships and other maritime vessels, but for whatever reason, Captain Marcus likes keeping an eye on the boardwalk.”
“Maybe he’s hungry for a funnel cake.”
Bee gave him a mild glower, though amusement glinted in her eyes. “Scoff if you must, Dr. Powers, but I guarantee you won’t be able to dispute the evidence of Captain Marcus’s ghost.”
He didn’t bother arguing. Her conviction was too damn appealing.
“Can we go outside?” he asked.
“Sure, though the lock is a bit rusty.” Bee unlatched the glass door leading out to the platform. After she wiggled and twisted the lock a few times, the door creaked reluctantly open.
A rush of cold, salty air greeted them as they stepped onto the platform, which creaked under their feet. Adam drew in a heavy breath, feeling it sweep through him like a cleansing tonic.
