Chapter 22
Cassidy pulled into the lighthouse parking area. She sat for a moment and watched the lighthouse beam cut through the gathering darkness.
Her phone buzzed again. David, probably. Or Steve with another crisis that somehow required her immediate attention despite the fact that she was supposed to be on leave. She ignored it.
She saw Winnie in the courtyard garden on the bench. She crossed the courtyard, and Winnie looked up and smiled. “I know a storm is coming in, but I thought I’d sit out and enjoy the night air for a bit.”
Cassidy looked up at the sky where a few stars poked through the clouds.
“I heard Bryan left the meeting early.”
“News travels fast.”
“Small town. Dorothy called. Said there was tension between you two.”
“He overheard me on a work call. Drew some conclusions.”
“What kind of conclusions?”
“That I’m leaving. That this was all temporary. That I was just using the festival to prove I still had what it takes before I went back to my real life.” She rubbed her temples. “He’s not entirely wrong.”
“But is he right?”
“I don’t know anymore. When I came here, I had a plan.”
“And now?”
“Now my boss is offering me that promotion. Everything I’ve sacrificed for. He wants an answer in forty-eight hours.”
Winnie’s expression didn’t change. “What do you want to tell him?”
“That’s the problem. I don’t know.” The admission felt like failure. She had built her career on decisive action and clear strategic thinking. Uncertainty was weakness. Hesitation was how you lost ground to competitors.
She shook her head. “I keep making lists. Pros and cons. The salary alone would change my financial trajectory, and if I turn it down, someone else gets that opportunity. There’s no guarantee they’d offer it to me again.”
Winnie nodded. “Logic is useful. But it’s not the whole picture.”
“It’s the only picture I know how to look at. My mother gave up her career when she married my father. Gave up her ambitions, her education, everything she’d worked for. She settled into a small life in a small town and convinced herself she was happy.”
“And you think staying here would make you like her?”
“Wouldn’t it? Walking away from everything I’ve built for a man I’ve known for a month? For a town that was never supposed to be more than a temporary stop? That’s exactly the kind of choice my mom made. The kind she spent the rest of her life regretting.”
Winnie was quiet for a moment. “Did you ever ask your mom what she regretted?”
“I didn’t have to ask. It was obvious”
“Was it? Or did you decide what her regrets were and build your whole life around avoiding them?”
The question was tougher than she expected. “She gave up everything.”
“Maybe. Or maybe she chose something different than what you would have chosen. I’m not saying your mother made the right choice. I don’t know her story well enough to say. But I do know that running from someone else’s regrets isn’t the same as building toward your own happiness.”
“I’m not running.”
“No? Because from where I’m standing, it looks like you’re running from something you weren’t expecting to care about.”
“The festival will end. Then what? I can’t build a career on one successful community event.”
“Why not?”
“Because...” She stopped, weary of the same thoughts ping-ponging through her mind.
She deliberately changed the subject. “Oh, I almost forgot. I found something interesting when I was researching the festival finances.” She pulled out her phone and opened her notes.
“The lighthouse was privately funded during the 1940s through a holding company. I traced the corporate registration. One of the officers was named James S. Copeland.”
Winnie’s face went carefully blank in a way that reminded Cassidy of high-stakes negotiations where everyone was hiding their cards. “Copeland is a common name,” Winnie said.
“From Cambridge, Massachusetts. The same Copeland family that had a vacation home here in Starlight Shores.” Cassidy watched Winnie’s face. “That seems like an odd connection. A wealthy Massachusetts family funding a Gulf Coast lighthouse during wartime.”
“A lot of people have vacation homes here.” Winnie’s voice was pleasant but distant.
“Right.” She got the distinct impression she was being redirected. “I just thought it was interesting.”
“I’m sure it’s in the historical records somewhere.” Winnie picked at an imaginary speck on her skirt.
“Well, I guess I should go in. Hope the storm doesn’t get too bad and mess with the festival plans.”
“Storms don’t always listen to reason.” Winnie stood. “Time for me to go in too.”
Cassidy headed to Heron Cottage. She stepped inside and flipped on the light. Her phone buzzed again. More messages piling up. David with logistics. Steve Hodges with a passive-aggressive note about transition planning.
The life she’d built was calling her home.
She crossed over to the window and watched the lighthouse beam sweep past. All she could think of was Bryan’s face when he’d asked her to leave. She realized something fundamental had shifted. The corner office didn’t feel like such a victory anymore.
And she had forty-eight hours—well, less than that now—to decide if she was brave enough to walk away from it.