Vivienne nodded and walked toward the door. She locked it and flipped the sign to “Closed for Lunch,” then led him to a table in the back corner. Brooks spread several photocopied pages across the surface. Lily’s neat handwriting documented her discoveries.
“I’ve been reviewing Lily’s research notes from Martha Morgan, and there’s something you should see.” Brooks stoodback and looked at the photographs for a moment. “She created detailed diagrams of the structure. According to these notes, she believed there were concealed spaces in the foundation that didn’t match the official architectural plans.”
Vivienne studied the drawings. “She was right. Mathilde helped design certain modifications that were never officially recorded.”
“Just there?”
“No, there’s an entire network of tunnels beneath Westerly Cove, some natural caves expanded and connected during Prohibition for smuggling. Mathilde knew about them because the keeper, her husband Edmund, was involved in stopping the illegal activities. After his death, the Aldrich family took control.”
Brooks absorbed this information, connecting it to patterns he’d identified in the case files. “And you think Lily discovered evidence of the Aldrich family still using these tunnels?”
“I know she did. Just as Melissa Clarkson discovered the same thing twenty-five years later.” Vivienne met his eyes. “Brooks, my mother died investigating the same connection. The official story was suicide because someone supposedly saw her walk into the ocean, but she was asking questions about the hidden history right before her death.”
“How old were you?”
“Nineteen. Old enough to suspect that her death wasn’t an accident, but too young to know how to prove it. We all have a gift, but it’s odd to me that my mother was the only one who couldn’t handle it.” Vivienne’s fingers traced the edge of Lily’s diagram. “Countless people have died in this town, and somehow all tie back to the lighthouse.“
Brooks was quiet for a moment, working through the implications. “Daniel Clarkson said Melissa had been researching the lighthouse for weeks, that she’d becomesecretive about what she’d found. And Martha’s case files show Lily was investigating the same location. Two women, twenty-five years apart, both digging into the lighthouse’s history.”
“Lily Morgan. The connection between them goes beyond coincidence.” Vivienne’s fingers traced the diagram again. “Both women researching the same place, asking the same dangerous questions.”
Brooks leaned back, his expression thoughtful. “What made these questions dangerous? Prohibition ended decades before Lily was born. Why would anyone care about smuggling operations from the 1920s?”
“Because they never stopped.” Vivienne met his eyes. “The tunnels, the routes, the network Mathilde helped build during Prohibition—someone has been using them ever since.”
Vivienne considered the question. This was delicate territory, involving some of Westerly Cove’s oldest and most influential families. Yet if her suspicions were correct, these historical secrets might be directly relevant to finding Melissa Clarkson.
“I should show you something in my family archives upstairs.”
Brooks followed her through the back of the shop and up the narrow staircase that led to her apartment. Unlike the Victorian charm of the teashop below, Vivienne’s living space was more modern, though still filled with antiques and family heirlooms integrated with contemporary furniture.
As they passed through the living room, Brooks paused to examine a framed architectural drawing on the wall. The sketch showed detailed plans, with handwritten notes in French along the margins.
“Original construction plans?”
“Mathilde’s contribution to the design. My great-great-grandmother had unusual knowledge of architecture for a woman of her time. The keeper relied heavily on her input,particularly for certain structural modifications that don’t appear in the official plans filed with the authorities.”
Brooks studied the drawing more carefully. “Secret spaces built into the original design?”
“Precisely. Which is why the Hawthorne women have always known more about the true nature of Westerly Cove’s underground network than most residents. Mathilde helped create it.”
She led him to a small room that served as her home office and library. Floor-to-ceiling bookshelves covered two walls, filled with a mixture of personal reading material and historical volumes about Westerly Cove. A large oak desk occupied one corner, its surface neat and organized.
“My grandmother kept detailed journals. She recorded not just her own experiences, but information passed down from previous generations.”
Vivienne moved to a locked cabinet beneath one of the bookshelves. She unlocked it with a small key she wore on a chain around her wrist and withdrew not just the leather-bound journal, but an ancient tome with symbols etched into its dark cover. The grimoire felt warm beneath her touch, a repository of generations of Hawthorne family knowledge.
“This belonged to Mathilde.” Vivienne’s fingers traced the strange markings. “Written in three languages: French, Latin, and something older. My mother translated many of the passages before she passed, documenting the family’s protective traditions.”
Brooks leaned closer, studying the intricate designs on the cover. “What kind of traditions?”
“Protective charms, herbal remedies, and most importantly, records of the underground network.” Vivienne opened the grimoire, revealing pages filled with detailed maps and architectural notes. “Mother added her own research here. Shediscovered that the price of using our gifts wasn’t death, as previous generations believed, but simply exhaustion that could be managed with proper rest and preparation.”
The page detailed not symptoms of decline, but methods of strengthening one’s connection to the spiritual realm while maintaining physical health. Cordelia Hawthorne had documented successful techniques for channeling psychic energy without depleting herself.
The gift strengthens with understanding, rather than consuming us. Proper preparation and herbal supports allow us to help the dead find peace while maintaining our own wellbeing. This is the true Hawthorne legacy: not suffering, but service that sustains itself.
Brooks studied her face. “Your mother changed how your family understood their abilities.”
