Whispering Shadows

Chapter Two: Secrets in the Shadows

The next morning, Claire woke to the sound of rain tapping against her window. The room at Margot Blake’s inn was quaint, with lace curtains and a faded quilt draped across the bed. It was the kind of place that made you feel like you’d stepped back in time—a feeling Claire wasn’t entirely sure she welcomed.

She stretched, shaking off the remnants of a restless sleep filled with disjointed dreams of crashing waves and flickering lights. Pulling on a sweater and jeans, she headed downstairs to the dining area, where the scent of fresh coffee and baked bread beckoned her.

“Good morning, dear,” Margot greeted her warmly, setting a plate of scones on the counter. Margot was a petite woman in her sixties with sharp blue eyes and a motherly demeanor that immediately put Claire at ease. “How did you sleep?”

“Not bad, though I think the sound of the ocean might take some getting used to,” Claire admitted, pouring herself a cup of coffee.

Margot chuckled. “It’s soothing once you let it be. You’re lucky to have that lighthouse project to focus on—keeps the mind busy.”

Claire tilted her head. “You say that like you’re warning me against something.”

Margot hesitated, her hands stilling over the napkin she was folding. “This town has its quirks, and the lighthouse is at the heart of most of them. Folks around here have long memories, Claire, and they don’t always let go of the past easily.”

Claire’s curiosity piqued. “You mean the ghost stories?”

Margot sighed, her smile tinged with something close to pity. “More like the truths buried beneath them. Just keep your eyes open, dear, and don’t trust everything you hear.”

Before Claire could press further, the door to the inn swung open, bringing a gust of cold air and a familiar figure. Ethan Hartwood stepped inside, shaking droplets from his jacket. His presence seemed to fill the room, and Claire couldn’t help but notice how Margot straightened, her expression guarded.

“Morning, Margot. Miss Donovan,” Ethan said, nodding toward Claire.

“Ethan,” Margot replied curtly, her tone losing its warmth.

Claire glanced between them, sensing an undercurrent she couldn’t quite place. “Good morning. What brings you here?”

Ethan pulled a bundle of papers from under his arm. “Thought you might want these. Old maps and structural plans for the lighthouse. Figured they’d help with your work.”

“Thank you,” Claire said, taking the bundle. Their fingers brushed, and for a moment, she caught a flicker of something in his eyes—an emotion too fleeting to name.

Margot cleared her throat. “Well, I’ll leave you two to your business. Let me know if you need anything, Claire.”

With that, she disappeared into the kitchen, leaving Claire and Ethan alone.

“Do you always carry old maps around, or is this a special occasion?” Claire asked, trying to lighten the mood.

Ethan smirked. “Let’s just say the lighthouse has been a hobby of mine. These might give you some insight into its… quirks.”

“Quirks? You make it sound alive.”

“Maybe it is,” Ethan said cryptically. “You’ll see what I mean when you spend more time there.”

By midday, the rain had eased to a drizzle, and Claire decided it was time to visit the lighthouse. Armed with the maps and a thermos of coffee, she drove to the site, the winding road slick with rainwater.