Total pages in book: 81
Estimated words: 78085 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 390(@200wpm)___ 312(@250wpm)___ 260(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 78085 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 390(@200wpm)___ 312(@250wpm)___ 260(@300wpm)
We all continued the small hike up the hill toward the lighthouse.
As the woman made her way closer to the entrance, I hung back a bit and stepped off the path, making sure I had a clear view of the entrance so I could see her when she came back out. I nearly fell twice attempting to get through the damn snow and out of sight, but I was tucked into the trees enough that I didn’t think she’d see me.
When she got to the door of the lighthouse, she paused, then turned and glanced around before stepping inside.
The second I saw her face, my jaw dropped.
“Holy shit,” I whispered. “I knew it!”
I nearly fell back on my ass as my suspicions became truth.
“Harlee. It’s Harlee.”
Stumbling out of the wooded area, I found my way back to the path and quickly headed to my truck. I wasn’t sure why I was so surprised to have my suspicion confirmed. I’d known it was her from that one article. Or maybe in a small way, I’d hoped it was her. Knowing it was Harlee who’d been taking anonymous jabs at me in the paper seemed to make sense. After all, I could justify her anger. Had it been some random woman doing it, that would’ve pissed me off.
One simple slip was all it took for me to figure it out. That slip about the year the town was founded. How long would it be before everyone else started to put two and two together? Or she messed up and put something personal in the column? So many people adored Ms. Seaside…but I was positive just as many didn’t.
I shut the door to my truck and leaned my head back against the seat. If it was revealed that Harlee was Ms. Seaside, so many people would be devastated. Harlee! The sweet do-gooder whom everyone in town called the Princess of Seaside. The person who put on the parades, the fundraisers, the Christmas caroling.
She was the fucking gossip column writer. For months she’d been writing about everyone in Seaside. She’d been writing about my sisters. They’d be devastated if they knew Harlee was Ms. Seaside. Hell, if I was being honest with myself, I wasn’t entirely sure how I felt about it either.
Nothing she had written was malicious, but it was still fucked up.
“Jesus Christ, Harlee. What in the hell were you thinking?” I said as I shook my head.
Turning on my truck, I tried to decide if I should take the next ferry or if I should wait. The last thing I wanted was for Harlee to see me and ask why I was here. As far as she knew, I had already given up my search for Ms. Seaside.
I pulled out and backed into another space. It was far enough away that she probably wouldn’t see me, but I’d still be able to see when she got back on the ferry. The one she’d taken over to the lighthouse hadn’t pulled out yet, as it was waiting for more people to get on.
It didn’t take long before I saw Harlee rushing down the path to the ferry. I watched as she made her way up the steps and into the heated cabin. Ten minutes later, the ferry took off back to Seaside.
I wasn’t sure how long I sat there, still stunned. A part of me had really hoped I’d be proven wrong and that it wouldn’t be her. But it was—and I had to decide what in the hell I was going to do with that information. Confront her? I wasn’t sure that was the right thing to do.
“Now what?” I asked myself while I watched the next ferry head over to the island. After everyone disembarked, I drove up and slowly pulled onto the ferry and turned my truck off. I wasn’t the least bit bothered as the temperature in my truck got colder and colder. I’d gone numb as soon as I saw Harlee’s face. For a moment, I questioned why I hadn’t gone back to the lighthouse to look for what she’d dropped off, but I knew Harlee had been the last person in there before Mitch Anders locked it up for the night.
Right before we pulled up to the dock in Seaside, my phone went off. I glanced down and read the text.
Sutton: Harlee is planning a town-wide Valentine’s Day dance the weekend before V day. She asked Mom to borrow those hearts we used at the grill last year. Do you mind swinging by the house and getting them out of the attic before Dad tries to find them?
A slow smile spread across my face as a plan formulated in my mind.
Me: I don’t mind at all. I’ll head over right now and get them.
Day of Valentine’s Day Party