beauty. It stretched nearly ninety feet into the air, with its iron balcony, or watch deck, at the top accessed by a spiraling cast-iron staircase located inside the tower.
The Keeper’s Quarters nestled at the foot of the tower, a two-story Victorian-style home that had housed the lightkeeper and his family until the early 1980s, when the light’s operation was modernized. In the mid-1980s, the town took control of both the lighthouse and the buildings surrounding it, turning the Keeper’s Quarters into a visitor’s center and museum. In the late 1990s, the building became the official home of the Cape Willington Historical Society.
Candy approached the lighthouse with her purse on her shoulder and her hands tucked deep into her pockets. She tilted her head way back and stopped for a few moments to admire it, watching the high clouds scud past its highest point, which made the tower look as if it were dipping to one side. Finally she moved on, turning toward the Keeper’s Quarters. She paused to read one of the descriptive plaques posted outside before climbing the gray- painted wooden steps and entering the museum.
Inside, she paused briefly to give her eyes time to adjust to the softer light. She had been in there a couple of times before, to peruse the exhibits, models, and memorabilia. Most impressive were the scaled-down models of the lighthouse station, including one depicting all the buildings and the surrounding landscape that occupied a large table at the center of the main room.
Candy always felt as if she were stepping back in time when she entered the Keeper’s Quarters. The place had the smell of an old home, and the bare, worn wooden floor looked much as it must have in the mid eighteen hundreds. The building’s windows were small, yet from here they provided breathtaking views of the sea just outside. Candy could hear the rush and tumble of the ocean just beyond the walls, mingling with the hushed voices of visitors as they toured the exhibits, which were located on both floors of the building.
To her left was a table with pamphlets and brochures on it, and just beyond that a long wooden counter, behind which sat a grizzled old gentleman with a scruffy white beard, wearing a patched cardigan sweater and a battered captain’s cap. He gave her a suspicious eye as she walked up to the counter.
“Hello,” she said pleasantly.
“Hello yerself, young lady,” said the gentleman, not completely unfriendly.
“I’m, um, Candy Holliday. With the
“Candy Holliday, are you?” said the old gentleman, obviously a volunteer who manned the desk. “Well, I’ve heard about you. You write that column, don’t you? That community column?”
“Yes, that’s right.”
“Well, I’ve read it,” he said gruffly. “Yup, I’ve read it. You’ll have to sign in.”
He pushed an open register book toward her. “Everyone signs the log book. It’s the rule around here. Don’t matter where you come from — you have to sign it.” He slapped a pen down on the counter.
Candy gave him an amused look as she picked up the pen, signed her name, and, beside that, wrote
“My name’s Mike, by the way,” the old gentleman continued. “Captain Mike, they call me around here. I know your dad. We’ve played poker a few times. I’ve lost some money to him.”
“I’m sorry to hear that. Hopefully you’ll win it back someday.”
Mike snorted. “Not likely. Doc’s a tough player. Merciless, just like that sea out there. He would have made a good lobsterman. I’ll tell Charlotte you’re here. She’s a busy woman, you know. Always in a hurry.”
“I’m sure she is. I promise I won’t keep her long.”
That seemed to appease Mike, and with a grunt he tottered off toward an office at the opposite side of the building.
As Candy waited, she wandered around for a quick look at the museum’s facilities and exhibits. Behind and to the left of the reception desk was a long, dark hallway that led to the base of the tower. Nearby, attached to the wall, a TV screen showed a video of the interior of the tower, including the spiral iron staircase and the view from the outside iron watch deck at the top. Hanging on the wall beside the TV was a sign that read VISITORS ARE NOT ALLOWED ENTRY TO THE LIGHTHOUSE TOWER. At the end of the hallway was a white wooden door, apparently the entrance to the tower, and apparently locked.
Candy moved to her right, toward an open doorway, which led to another room at the rear of the cottage, facing the sea. A sign beside the door told her the room re-created the living quarters of the lightkeeper and his family as they might have appeared in the late eighteen hundreds. Candy looked in.
The room was not richly decorated but looked comfortable, with hardwood floors, dark green wainscoting with painted beige walls above, and simple furniture. To one side was a kitchen table next to an old black stove. Dishes, glasses, pots, and pans sat on open shelves. On the right side of the room, a large fireplace was surrounded by several padded chairs, including a rocking chair. A rolltop desk brimming with books, maps, and papers sat in one corner. Victorian lights and decorating accents gave the room a charming appearance.
Adding an even more realistic ambience were the lifesize mannequins standing in for the lightkeeper and his family. Dressed in period costumes, the mannequins were arranged around the room as they might have appeared on a cozy afternoon in the Keeper’s Quarters. The lightkeeper, complete with beard and moustache, sat in the rocking chair, an open nautical book upside down over his knee and a pipe on a nearby table, while his wife sat across from him mending a garment and two children played a game on the rug in front of the fireplace.
“Hello, Candy,” said a voice behind her. She turned. A petite, dark-haired, somewhat disheveled woman wearing a frown and a purple print dress approached from across the room, her thick-heeled shoes rapping solidly on the wooden floor. She extended her hand as she came forward. “I’m Charlotte Depew, the museum’s director and advisor to the historical society.”
“Hello, Charlotte. Nice to finally meet you.”
“And you, Candy.” They shook hands in a businesslike manner. Charlotte’s hands were small, but her handshake was surprisingly firm, Candy noticed.
“Yes, we’ve talked on the phone a few times,” the director said, “but it’s nice to finally put a face to a voice. Your column is very informative. We read it whenever we get a chance. Don’t we, Captain Mike?”
“That we do. I’ve read it,” Mike said adamantly as he took his place behind the counter. “Yup, I’ve read it.”
“Mike’s a longtime volunteer here,” Charlotte said. “He always goes above and beyond the call of duty. Don’t you, Captain Mike?”
He gave her a halfhearted wave.
“I just don’t know what we’d do without our volunteers,” Charlotte continued. “There always seems to be too much to do around here. Without their help, we’d never get anything done. I see you were checking out our new display.” She motioned toward the lightkeeper and his family.
“Oh... yes. It’s very well done.”
“You know, I created those costumes and made the wigs myself. Everything is authentic, either originals or replicas based on photographs we have in our archives. It took us nearly six months to assemble all the components for this display.”
“You must be very proud of it,” Candy said.
“Yes... well, of course we are. A lot of people put in a lot of hard work on this. I’m glad you finally have a chance to see it. We’ve been hoping you would stop by soon so we could show it off. Perhaps you can write up something about it in the paper.” She seemed a bit jittery and touched at her somewhat askew hair, trying to tuck a few loose strands back into place.
“Oh, sure, that would be great. In fact, that’s why I came around. I wanted to talk to you about your new exhibits and displays, special programs you might have coming up, that sort of thing. Of course,” Candy added, seeing Charlotte glance surreptitiously at her watch, “I hope I’m not catching you at a bad time. I probably should have called ahead.”
Charlotte was silent for a moment. “Yes, well, we
“She’s very busy,” Captain Mike called from across the room.
