Only one remained on the Isle of Wight who remembered Lucy Lightfoot. He was the reason she had returned, and the reason she stood in the church porch, debating on whether seven hundred years was long enough. She hesitated, glancing toward the setting sun, and then retreated to her house, just along the street. She wondered yet again why returning to her old home, and this island, was so important. She had prepared well, and she felt she had a very good chance of success, but the stakes were so damned high.