Janey Forsythe pressed her back into the exterior wall of The Lighthouse Inn and sucked at the air.
I’m Julia Harper.
I’m Julia Harper.Julia Harper.
Julia Harper.Julia.
Julia.Harper.
Harper.Janey knew exactly who Julia Harper was, and it had been so hard not to stare at the woman and pick out all of their similar features. The same hair color. The same curl in their eyelashes. The same freckles splashed across their cheeks and nose.
“Lots of people have freckles,” she told herself, her voice one that would accompany ghosts.
The sound of the waves coming ashore stole her attention, and she turned her head to the right. She wasn’t sure she could hold herself up quite yet, so she didn’t move. She’d heard The Lighthouse Inn had hired new caretakers—not a couple. She’d seen the sign, and
