“It’s fine! It’s my fault. I was rattling off rumors or something. Here, let’s get you changed into something fresh.”
Once they were inside, rummaging through Clara’s wardrobe, Sarah prodded again. “Aunt Clara, why were you asking about my dad’s job?”
Clara sighed and passed over a pink sundress. “Here. I’ll drive you up to the lighthouse, and you can get your swimming suit. And you don’t have to call me Aunt, you know.”
“It feels weird not to.”
“It feels weirder to me if you do. Technically, I’m not your aunt.”
Sarah, who was well informed on the recent revelations, argued back. “All of my life you’ve been my aunt. Just like Grandma has been your mom, right?”
A small smile crept across Clara’s face. “Well, if you really move to Birch Harbor, then it won’t matter anymore.”
“What do you mean?” Sarah frowned as she took the dress and headed for Nora’s old room.
“You’ll be a student in my district. You’ll have to call me Miss Hannigan!” Clara laughed at her little joke, but Sarah’s eyes just grew wide in realization.
“Oh my gosh, like Miss Havisham!”
“What?” The laughter died off. “You started the book?”
Sarah grinned. “It’s slow. And a little hard. Not harder than Shakespeare, but yeah. You’re like Miss Havisham. Up here in the cottage all alone, angry and scorned.”
Clara was wrong. She was not like Sarah at all. There was a deep divide between them. Sarah didn’t know how to read, and worse, she didn’t know how to apply what she read. They were not going to get along. They were not going to be bubbly summertime friends. Or cousins. Teenagers were awful. That’s exactly why Clara didn’t have friends growing up and it’s exactly why she didn’t have friends currently. People were awful.
“Get dressed. I’ll drive you to Amelia’s.”
5
Megan
Megan hadn’t seen the lighthouse since Amelia, Michael, and Sarah had fixed it up. They had more to do before the opening, but gone were the old cobwebs and rust stains. Amelia lived there now. And Sarah was staying with her, at the very north side of Birch Harbor, in the little home where Megan’s grandparents had raised her father, Wendell Acton.
The same man who’d gone missing years and years before, never to be heard from again. The one Amelia was now actively searching for.
Kate drove, and Megan tapped her daughter’s contact info into the phone as they pulled onto Harbor Ave and headed north, toward the edge of town. The sun was just starting to set over the lake, turning the sky a warm red and casting long shadows ahead of them on the road toward the lighthouse.
Sarah’s voice came on the line with an edge to it. “Hi, Mom.”
“Hey, how was your day?” Megan braced for more of the unpredictable attitude that seemed indelible in a teenage girl. Maybe she didn’t want to talk to her mom, preferring instead her cooler, younger aunt who was technically a cousin… a cooler, older cousin. Probably, though, the lake was calling Sarah. Along with it, the new friends she’d made. Perhaps a boy.
Instead, her daughter’s tone turned weepy. “Long day. I came back to the lighthouse to help Aunt Amelia.”
“I thought you were staying with Clara and doing the lake thing today?” Megan asked as she and Kate passed the Village and on toward the lighthouse for a late family dinner.
Megan had spent the whole day with Kate, helping turn a room, check in a new set of guests, put out breakfast and prepare afternoon snacks. It was busy and, honestly, delightful. The Heirloom Inn had turned the house on the harbor into a lively, happy place. A place Megan could stay for a while, if she needed to.
“I was, but I changed my mind. I didn’t sleep well last night. Aunt Clara made me stay in Grandma’s room.”
“What?” Megan glanced at Kate, her brow furrowed. “What do you mean made you?”
Kate looked over, shaking her head and squinting. Megan put Sarah on speaker.
“Well, she didn’t make me, but, like, that was the only other bed. If I didn’t sleep in Grandma’s room, then I’d have to take the couch or kick Aunt Clara out of her bedroom, so, I just tried to be easygoing.”
Exchanging a frown with Kate, Megan tried to keep her response light, but it was hard. Typical Clara, making things awkward. She liked to stir the pot. Always had. It was a baby-of-the-family thing. Plus, she was young. Maybe she wasn’t thinking? Maybe it was no big deal to her? “So, are you two getting along, or…?” Megan tugged her seatbelt tighter across her chest and prepared for a mini drama.
“Yeah, it’s whatever. I’ll do the lake tomorrow. My friends get it.”
“Friends?” Kate mouthed from the driver’s seat.
Megan held up a finger, finished her call then shot a quick text to Clara, apologizing if Sarah was being a brat and inquiring about how things went. She needed both sides to make a judgment call.
“She met a group of girls here,” Megan said, answering Kate’s question. “I think one of them is Vivi, if you haven’t heard.”
Kate lifted an eyebrow. “Matt’s Vivi?”
Matt Fiorillo hadn’t brought his daughter around much, favoring to keep her sheltered from his budding reunion with Kate. Still, Megan and her sisters had seen the girl out and about. You couldn’t miss her. White-blonde hair to her waist and sea glass eyes glowed against Vivi’s summer tan, the one that she probably maintained year-round. The look paired with an islander attitude (she and her father lived on Heirloom) was a sight to behold, especially for Sarah, who’d been entranced by the ethereal teen, in spite of herself. Megan had witnessed all this in brief snippets. A text here. A social media post there. But she thought nothing of it. She herself had been there, done that. As kids, Megan and her sisters were the Vivis of Birch Harbor, not as striking, perhaps, but to outsiders, the allure of the local teen was forceful. Lake-smart and knowledgeable, those born and raised in Birch Harbor were less like people to tourists. More like attractions.
“Yes. Viviana.” Megan pronounced each syllable with crisp attention then dropped the passenger vanity to apply a quick smear of lip gloss.
“I didn’t realize they were hanging out. Isn’t Vivi a freshman? Sarah’s a lot older than her.”
Megan’s eyes darted to Kate. “Well, I mean, they’re both in high school.”
“Incoming freshman. Outgoing senior?”
“Sarah’s about to be a senior. Anyway, if we stay in town, it’ll be nice for her to know girls from the school.” A line of sweat crept up Megan’s spine. She punched the AC. “Aren’t you burning up?”
Kate shrugged. “Yeah, I guess.” Then she shook her head, pushing the topic away for something more relevant. “Okay, so let me bring you up to speed on the lighthouse before we get there.”
Megan listened as Kate went over each recent renovation or project, noting the new paint job, freshly planted flowers, and carefully chosen furniture, most of it culled from the basement at the Inn, some from the cottage, and some from garage sales. They weren’t done with that part, yet. The hunt for local artwork and artifacts would be a drawn-out process. Still, their progress should be notable to Megan. “And don’t forget to compliment the new doorbell. It took them forever to install it for some reason. Matt did mine in like five minutes.” A smug smile formed on Kate’s mouth.
“So, let’s be real for a minute,” Megan said, stopping Kate. “This whole museum thing. Is it legit? Do the people of Birch Harbor really want a museum?” Megan hid her envy beneath a thin layer of skepticism. It didn’t work, and Kate gave her an older-sister look. Megan rolled her eyes playfully. “I know. I know. But really. Of all the businesses or… diversions that your guests ask about, is museum ever on the list?”
“Yes, Megan. Come on, now. Do you live under a rock? Quirky hidden historical gems are all the rage. Almost every single guest I get asks about local museums or tours. And since the historical society went defunct, Amelia’s really found an underserved in
dustry here.”
“Industry?” Megan asked, trying to free a fine hair from her sticky bottom lip. “That’s actually pretty cool, then. And, seriously, I’m happy for her.” Sighing, Megan smiled at the thought of Amelia running a museum. And managing the apartments and playing resident ingenue for the Birch Harbor Players. If anyone deserved to have it all, it was Amelia Ann. She’d spent her entire life searching for something. It was about time she found it. “What other industries are underserved here, anyway?” Megan curled the word in her mouth, testing it out. If her funky, offbeat sister could pull off small-business ownership… then maybe Megan could, too.
Kate shrugged. “Anything you can think of. Summer here is crazy, as you know. Seeing it like I do now, from a hospitality perspective, well, it’s pretty interesting. People who come here for a couple of days want more than an hour on a kayak. Or a good meal. They want an experience. Something to photograph. Something different and memorable. Quaint and cool.”
Megan stared out the window as the SUV whizzed past clapboard shore homes on the right, to the east. A blur of green farmland on the left, to the west. Spurts of the sinking sun peeked through trees, dipping steadily into dusk. “Remember when we were teenagers—before you met Matt, I mean—and we’d hang around the marina looking for tourists our age?”
“You and Amelia were so boy crazy. The guy didn’t even have to be cute, and you were all over him, fighting over who’d go out on the lake.” Kate smiled at the memory, too. “You didn’t even realize the power you had, as a local. That you were just as alluring.”
Megan smiled. “Well, there is one thing teenagers want this time of year.”
Kate glanced Megan’s way. “What’s that?”
“Summer love.”
Kate chuckled. “That’s true. If only they knew it didn’t last, though.” A shadow crossed her face.
Just as Megan was about to argue that yes, summer love could last, for townies and tourists alike, her older sister slowed the SUV.
“Look, Megan, there’s your land.”
Megan followed Kate’s finger to the pretty pasture embedded in a circle of wood. Megan’s inheritance. The thing she accepted when posed with the chance to negotiate for every property Nora Hannigan owned. Had she gotten a raw deal? Not when one considered the potential. Acres and acres of green meadow. A pond at the far side. Trees for days.
“Let’s stop.” Kate didn’t wait for an answer and instead turned onto the pebble lane past a rickety wooden sign that used to read Hannigan Field before time faded the letters down to a shadow.
“Has that sign always been there?” Megan pointed back towards the sun-bleached wood as Kate put the SUV in park just beyond the entrance.
Kate lifted her shoulders and unbuckled herself. “I hate to say it, but I don’t know.”
There wasn’t much to explore. For being unmaintained, the meadow wasn’t in too poor of shape. No bald spots. The space within the forest must have spanned at least three or four acres. It would have taken them a while to walk across it and find the little pond that was detailed in the deed. The deed also mentioned a cherry orchard or potential for one on some far-off corner of the space.
A beady light flickered in front of Megan. “A firefly!” she gasped, holding her hand out as if the little bug would land there. It bobbed around in front of her, blinking on and off, its sparks pulsing, charging her with fresh energy.
As a girl, the best thing about summer were the fireflies. On one hand, she hated that they only came out past sunset and for such a brief season. But even as a girl, she appreciated their rarity. Their specialness.
Kate strode to her, squinting. “I see it! There’s another.” Two flashes danced against the dusky night sky. It was getting dark. Late. The bugs flashed again. Then Megan turned to Kate. “Too bad we didn’t have this place when we were little. We’d have been out here every night with mason jars. We’d have had a firefly farm. Can you imagine?”
Smiling, Kate pulled Megan into a side hug. “Yes, I can. It’d have been a whole business. You’d be mating them. Amelia would be using them to light a stage or something. I’d bring in the customers with a poster board at the Village. Mom and Dad would beam about our entrepreneurial spirits. Eventually, though, they’d get sick of it. We would, too.”
“No.” Megan shook her head. “I never got tired of fireflies.” She watched the little lights drift away until she couldn’t see them anymore. With the growing dark, she’d be able to spy many more, but Amelia was waiting for them. “Why did Mom and Dad own this?” Megan asked, picking along the pebble path and back toward the SUV.
“When we went to Arizona that one summer, Mom was freaked out about where we’d live when we came back. She wanted complete privacy. She wanted to hide me.”
Megan frowned at the difficult memory.
“Remember? That’s when she told Dad to build us the cottage. I think she also had him find some land as another back-up. It was panic, probably.” Kate followed Megan to the SUV.
Nodding the memory back to life, Megan added, “That’s when they were riding high financially. They could have afforded to buy the whole town if they wanted to. Didn’t Mom consider that their social rank would have protected you—or, I guess, her?”
Kate opened the door to the SUV and hopped in. “They had money, but they didn’t have respect. Not back then. It took Mom a long time to grow that. The Hannigans weren’t well-liked. There were feuds, generations old and deeply tangled. Grandma and Grandpa Hannigan fought to keep the house on the harbor, you know. The other Hannigans, the ones who left, were not happy about how everything happened, and they smeared our name before bailing out of here. I’m not sure that Mom ever did overcome it.”
Megan shook her head and buckled herself in. It sounded like some old-timey settler drama. Far removed from the modern age where land disputes had more to do with big box stores wiping out mom-and-pop shops. “What were they going to do with this? Build a house? Bury a body?”
“Like I said, I’m not totally sure. I think Mom just wanted an insurance policy, of sorts. A back-up plan. She really thought, I think, that my pregnancy would be her downfall.”
“I guess in a way it was.” Megan looked at Kate, whose expression remained impassive. “I mean, not because you were pregnant or because of Clara… I mean because when she came back, Dad was gone. And she just never recovered.”
Kate nodded slowly. “It would make a good cemetery,” she said at last, starting the engine.
Megan laughed. She was right. “It would make a great venue, actually.”
Agreeing, Kate pulled back out onto the road, giving Megan the view of both sides of Birch Harbor again. East of the main drag and west. West was known as inland. Scornfully, sometimes. And the east was known as the shore. The road that ran between Shoreline Birch Harbor and Inland Birch Harbor was like a fissure. A divorce between the coveted properties and everything else. Older cottages, forgotten businesses, and empty farmland.
“You know,” Megan added, once they were far past Hannigan Field and nearing the lighthouse. “I don’t think this town needs a place for the dead. I think it needs a place for the living.”
“Tourists or locals?” Kate asked, catching on quickly and throwing Megan a knowing smile.
“Both. Both. A place to bring everyone together. Inland people. Marina people. Out-of-towners.”
“All ages? Retirees? Families?”
“The old and the young,” Megan replied, finding purchase in her mind. An idea.
Kate slowed to a stop at the lighthouse. “You’re going to pair off tourists with locals, huh? Sounds like matchmaking for vacation. Like a cruise or something.”
Megan nodded solemnly. “Summer love.”
6
Kate
Kate, Megan, Sarah, and Amelia sat around a restored picnic table that nestled in the cove between Amelia’s living quarters and the lighthouse.
Though night had officially fallen, Michael ran up to the
cupola in the lighthouse to turn on the interior lights there, allowing a soft glow from the lantern pane high above. Along the sides of the lighthouse, Amelia flipped on service bulbs. The resulting radiance was at once romantic and industrial. A unique combination befitting Kate’s younger sister and her new beau.
Kate made a mental note to look into those pretty string lights that had become all the rage in exterior design. The Inn could use some backyard illumination. So far, she’d spent her energy on the front and interior. It was time to expand to the back, especially before summer was over. After all, wouldn’t it be delightful to host an end-of-summer party? Or gala? Something. Something to close out the season with a bang. Draw new attention to help tide her over on the off-season months? Maybe she could pull in local crowds to help spread the good word about the Heirloom Inn.
Her sisters never did host that Grand Opening they’d all talked about. Maybe Kate and the B&B could collaborate with Amelia’s opening of the lighthouse. It could be a Hannigan family bonanza of events. Labor Day weekend, perhaps. Or sooner, to avoid any conflict with other local blow-outs.
Forcing herself to refocus on dinner—grilled steak, corn on the cob, and thick, succulent triangles of watermelon, Kate took a long pull from her iced tea, savoring the moment of having a little family reunion. A few important people were missing. Matt, who had an early project to attend to. Kate’s two sons, Ben and Will, off in their college towns getting ready for the new semester. And… the youngest Hannigan sister, Clara. Kate’s daughter. The introvert of the family, continually slipping out during functions, leaving early, excusing herself for other, quieter pursuits.
Kate blinked and tried to laugh along as Amelia regaled them over a tale of stripping gummy stain from a set of old built-in cabinets.
“Every couple of minutes I kept hearing little curses. Crap. Crap, crap, crap!” Amelia’s imitation of Michael was good fun, and he laughed, too, adding just how painful it was to feel the searing drip on his skin.
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