“There, you’re all done,” she said, sliding back the credit card. “Your room is on the second floor, end of the hall: 212. Breakfast is from six until nine. We run a light dinner service here in the hotel, but there’s also a grocer two doors down, and Rosie’s Diner is over yonder. If you mention you’re staying at The Lookout, you’ll get ten percent off your check.” She placed a pair of silver keys on the counter while at the same time affording Amy a quick smile and a wink. “If you need anything, anything at all, just come and talk to me—the name’s Peggy.”

“Thank you,” Kevin said.

Amy followed her dad out of the bar, back through the lobby, and up the stairs. The age of the hotel quickly became apparent; floorboards creaked and groaned, and the balustrades wobbled the higher they went. Their room was at the end of a dimly lit corridor, its walls covered in equal parts warped wainscoting and maize-colored wallpaper. When they reached their door, Amy’s dad did his best to put on a brave face.

“Okay, so it’s obviously not the Ritz,” he remarked as he twisted the key and proceeded to give the bottom of the door a persuasive kick. “But it’s only for one night.”

In contrast to the rest of the hotel, however, their room was distinctly contemporary and pleasant. Polished floorboards and modern furniture indicated that it had recently been refurbished. On one side was a generously sized cream-colored sofa, and on the other a writing desk that doubled as a stand for a newish-looking television and lamp. There was a glass table positioned near the window, through which Amy caught a glimpse of the ocean and the lighthouse. While her dad poked his head outside and admired the view, she wandered into the adjoining room, where she found a modest bed, two bedside tables, and a tall freestanding wardrobe. A vase of dried flowers provided color, as did three framed prints hanging on the walls that portrayed differing versions of the same blue-domed lighthouse.

Her dad set their bags down in the room and told Amy she could have the bed, and that he was happy sleeping on the couch. “It’s coming up seven,” he added. “I don’t suppose you’re hungry?”

Amy shook her head and looked out the window. After a long afternoon stuck in the car, all she wanted was fresh air and time alone.

“I might go for a walk,” she said.

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah,” she replied, staring at the beach. “Need to stretch my legs.”