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PETE HAD WANTED TO RETURN to the lighthouse, and the entire argument had shifted his stubbornness into high gear. Maybe it was that a half-hour car ride was better than the six-to-eight-hour drive to get all the way to their home. Maybe he was making a point. Regardless, it was still the longest thirty-minute car ride Shea had ever been on, and since Pete was in pain-management mode, she had the entire time to self-reflect.

She didn’t like a minute of it.

In truth, Shea still believed she wasn’t completely at fault. Yet little snippets of Pete’s outburst at the hospital made too much sense to be ignored, and it was that left-brained logic that warred with her right-brained need for emotional attachment.

Where was the balance? Was there a balance?

To make matters worse, now that Pete had called her out on her attraction to Holt, she didn’t want to see that man again. Not to mention, her own suspicions of Holt made her wary, even if she couldn’t put a finger on a direct motive.

They’d arrived at the lighthouse by early evening, and after getting Pete situated, Shea made a late supper, served it to him without a word, then settled into her bed with a book. But she was far too distracted to get involved in a story. Instead, she lay there staring at the ceiling until well past two in the morning. When sleep finally claimed her, it was fitful and filled with dreams of Pete getting hit by a car, with Annabel’s ghost hovering just beyond the crime scene as if responsible for it.

She woke up on a mission, and Pete noticed from his position on the sofa where he’d chosen to sleep that night.

“I’m going to find out who this Rebecca is and where Captain Gene is and all this nonsense about Annabel’s ghost once and for all,” Shea explained in response to Pete’s wordless question.

He’d been watching her go to-and-fro, busying herself collecting her notebook, purse, filling her water bottle, and more. The wordless treatment was worse than if he’d just been nosy.

She halted. She’d not bothered to check on him in the night. He preferred not to be babied, instructing her to leave his pain meds on the coffee table and he’d “figure it out.” Now she felt like she should at least try to be the bigger person.

“Did you sleep all right?” she asked.

Pete raised an eyebrow. “Sure.”

They were still at an impasse. Shea decided there was nothing she could say or do at the present time that might solve their dilemma. “Well, bye then. If you need anything...” Whatever. He would figure it out .

“Have fun” was all Pete had to say.

Shea didn’t stick around to see if he’d add anything more. She slipped her feet into a pair of leather mules and swung open the door.

“Oh!”

Penny stood just outside the door, her hand poised to knock, a large cake pan in her other hand. Her bright red lips stretched into a smile.

“Good morning, hon!”

Shea quickly gathered her wits about her. “I was just heading over to the Dipstick to see you!”

“You were?” Penny held out the cake. “And here I am making sure you get that handsome husband of yours fed. He needs sugar to heal, that’s my prescription!”

Shea stepped to the side and invited Penny in. The tiny bar owner walked straight to the table to set the cake pan on it. “Chocolate cake with chocolate icing.” She reached into her pocket and pulled out a can of cherry pie filling. “It’s not particularly gourmet, but my mama swore by adding cherries on top. Our own version of German chocolate cake, I guess.”

“Sounds great!” Pete hollered from the sitting area.

Penny made herself at home and went in to see him.

Apparently, Pete had eaten more meals at the Dipstick than Shea realized. He and Penny—who was almost old enough to be his mother—seemed like the best of friends.

Interesting.

Shea watched the two interact for a moment. She was suspicious of everyone now. Rightfully so, she believed.

“I’m just so glad you’re still with us!” Penny perched on the footstool near Pete’s spot on the sofa. “And that you came back here!”

Shea leaned against the doorjamb. “A few days ago, Pete was suggesting it was too dangerous for me to be alone.”

Penny’s laughter pealed. She waved toward Shea. “My late husband was always like that too. Making sure I was taken care of and never doing anything to take care of himself. I had to watch him like a hawk or that man would’ve died way sooner than he did by cause of sheer stupidity.” She laughed again, Pete joined her, and Shea managed a smile.

Penny grew serious and looked between the two of them. “I did want to let you both know something, though.”

“What is it?” Shea pushed off the doorjamb and took a few more steps into the room.

“Well,” Penny started, “right after Pete was hit, Holt took off on a fishing trip to Canada. I think he needed some time away and it’ll do him good.”

“He what?” Shea was dumbfounded. Holt hadn’t said a word about a planned fishing trip.

“Mm-hmm.” Penny nodded. “And he’s put me in charge of this lighthouse, so if you need any landlord-type stuff, just give me a ring. But since it was rather sudden, and I ... well, I wanted to ask if he’d said anything to either of you about the fishing trip? Seeing as you’re his guests and all.”

“Not a word,” Pete replied.

“No, he never said anything to me,” said Shea. Which could be proof that Holt was behind at least some of what had happened to Pete. Shea’s prior attraction to Holt turned into a deep distrust of the man.

“Okay then.” Penny hefted a sigh. “Maybe I’m too much of a worry-wort. And not to be out of line, but I think Holt has a little bit of a thing for you, Shea, and, well—he knew there are boundaries in place.”

“Good,” Pete gruffed.

Penny patted Pete on the knee. “Now don’t get all riled. Holt is a good man. He’d never steal another man’s wife.”

This conversation was entirely too uncomfortable. Shea opened her mouth to interrupt, but Penny continued, not seeming to notice Shea as she directed her attention to Pete.

“I’d advise you to be careful, though. I’m not sure who was behind this hit-and-run, but it was obviously very intentional. Still, you know how this place affected Jonathan Marks. Something about the lighthouse gets into your psyche and messes with your mind.”

“The police are actively investigating.” Pete’s statement made Penny’s brows raise.

“Well, good! But that could take forever and a day!”

“My thoughts exactly,” Shea muttered.

Penny’s earrings bobbed as she turned her head as if looking for something. Spotting it, she sprang from the footstool. It was the painting on the wall. The one Jonathan Marks—according to the documentary—had died under. “See this?” Penny’s fingernail tapped the vague form of Annabel’s ghost near the lighthouse. “Don’t underestimate her. Annabel has a lot of influence on this place. She always has, and she always will.”

“Why do you think that is?” Pete asked the question in Shea’s mind, though it was one she’d already asked and had received no satisfactory answer to.

Penny eyed him. “I’m not sure, but I do know this.” She returned to her seat on the footstool. “Folks discount the impact prior generations have on us today. I know some don’t know their family trees beyond their grandparents, and that’s unfortunate. Do you know what happens when you throw a rock into the lake?”

“It sinks,” Pete replied.

“Well, yes,” Penny chuckled, “but on a day when the lake is calm, you can see the ripples the rock creates on the water, and you can watch it as it sinks to the bottom. The water is cold and clear. The effects of that rock being thrown into the lake change an otherwise consistent pattern. Even if it’s just for a moment, those ripples reach farther than that rock ever would on its own. And as the rock sinks, it touches other rocks and debris that it never would have otherwise.” She looked up at Shea, who stood frozen, listening to Penny’s words with a layered reaction she didn’t know how to process.

Penny continued, “You see, how Annabel lived left its effect on others around her. Enough so that today, over a hundred years later, we’re still being touched by the fact she once lived here. We can blame it all on Annabel’s ghost, or we can realize it’s the ripples she caused that affect us today.”

“In what ways?” Pete had a way of drawing people out that was fast becoming a surprise to Shea even after a decade of marriage. Why hadn’t she noticed that about him?

Penny cleared her throat. “Well, if it weren’t for Annabel, then Jonathan Marks would still be alive, I’d bet my bar on it. If it weren’t for Annabel, he never would’ve gone out of his mind. I’m sure of it. And if it weren’t for Annabel ... my dad wouldn’t be such a hermit.”

“Your dad?” Shea inserted.

Penny looked up at her. “Yes. My dad. Captain Gene. Didn’t Holt tell you he is my dad?”

No one had told her that Captain Gene was Penny’s dad. Not Marnie—who had said to watch out for Penny—not August Fronell, and definitely not Holt. Penny swore on her mother’s grave that she didn’t know where her father was, in keeping with his reputation of disappearing. But Shea had immediately attempted to interrogate Penny further.

“Oh no.” Penny lifted a hand. “I’m not going to talk about this stuff any more than I already have! Not that I have much to add.”

“How could you not?” Shea winced when she realized her question was a bit rude.

Penny’s chuckle reassured Shea it wasn’t taken that way. “Because I know what happens to people who dig into Annabel’s story.” She took her index finger and swirled it in a circle beside her temple. “And Dad never wanted to talk about it anyway. Said too much trouble came from digging up the past. Sometimes you have to let the ripples in the water settle and allow everything to go back to normal.”

“Shea isn’t capable of doing that.” Pete managed to twist enough to give her a faint grin. Then he winced and returned to his prior position, tending his arm.

“You’re a curious one, Shea, I’ll grant you that.” Penny pushed to her feet. “I should go now. Leave the two of you to kiss and make up.”

“Pardon?” Shea said.

Penny pursed her lips. “You really think I can’t tell when two people have built the Great Wall of China between them? I was married once too.” She reached down and patted Pete’s shoulder. “You be a man and give your wifey some hugs and kisses. And you...” Penny approached Shea and gripped her hand in a squeeze. “Don’t take that man for granted. I can see he’s a good one, and you’ve got him right where every woman would want theirs. He’s going to be in the palm of your hand with that busted arm of his, so now’s your chance to get some time with him when he’s not playing grease monkey on the cars.”