Total pages in book: 108
Estimated words: 102280 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 511(@200wpm)___ 409(@250wpm)___ 341(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 102280 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 511(@200wpm)___ 409(@250wpm)___ 341(@300wpm)
“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. She discovered 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.”
“She revolutionized them. Mathilde fled France not because she was cursed, but because her healing abilities threatened those in power. She came here to build something lasting, a place where wisdom could flourish instead of being suppressed.” Vivienne closed the grimoire, her hands steady and sure.
She withdrew Emmeline’s journal and opened it to the familiar page marked with a silk ribbon. “This is Emmeline’s account of the Aldrich family’s activities during Prohibition, as told to her by my great-grandmother Josephine, who witnessed them firsthand.”
Brooks accepted the journal with care, his expression focused and professional as he began to read. The entry described regular nighttime deliveries, boats with darkened lanterns, and crates moved through concealed passages beneath the town.
“This is remarkably specific.” Brooks looked up from the pages. “Was your great-grandmother working with law enforcement?”
“Not officially. The sheriff at that time was Winston Aldrich’s grandfather, which complicated matters. But Josephine passed information to federal agents when they occasionally visited the area. The Hawthorne women have always maintained a complex relationship with local authorities.”
Brooks nodded, returning to the journal. As he continued reading, his expression grew more serious. “According to this, the smuggling operation involved not just alcohol during Prohibition but continued afterward with other contraband. And the tunnels remained in use.”
“Yes. The Aldrich family transitioned to legitimate business enterprises over time, but rumors persisted about occasional illicit activities. My grandmother believed that Gerald Aldrich resumed using them in the 1980s and 90s, though for what purpose, she was never certain.”
“And you believe Lily Morgan may have discovered evidence of this while researching for her school project.”
“I can show you what Lily discovered.”
Vivienne moved to a small wooden box on her desk, one that had belonged to Martha Morgan. Inside lay a few personal items: a hair ribbon, a silver locket, a fragment of paper with Lily’s handwriting. She lifted the locket, centering herself with breathing techniques her mother had taught her.