“Why are you blaming me?” Dani asked, tears streaming down her face.
Kate shook her head, “I’m not blaming you. We all allowed her into our lives. We took her money, we let her talk to us about Mom. We even told Pop everything was all right. But he knew. He knew she was no good.”
“Katie, stop,” James said. “You can’t hold on to this kind of anger. It won’t help anything.”
“James is right. We have to be sensible. I think we all chill and think this thing through.”
Dani wiped her face with her sleeve. “Katie, putting your anger aside, what do you think we should do?”
Kate didn't have an answer. For once, she had no idea what came next.
CHAPTER 28
Three days passed in a strange suspension, the inn operating on automatic while its inhabitants moved through their routines like sleepwalkers. Kate found herself starting tasks and abandoning them halfway through, her mind circling back to Lillian's voice on that recording, calculating and cold as she dismantled their father's life piece by piece. She'd replay the security footage in her head at random moments: her mother, young and desperate, begging at her mother’s door.
The morning of the third day, she stood at the front desk going through reservations without really seeing them. They had bookings now, a direct result of the Mother's Day brunch success. James's social media campaign had generated interest, and Dani's follow-up with guests had converted that interest into deposits. They should have been celebrating. Instead, they moved around each other carefully, like people sharing a house with a ghost.
Tom had taken over the small office behind the kitchen, turned it into some kind of legal war room where he spent hours researching something he wouldn't discuss. His divorce papers sat unopened on the desk, forwarded from his former firm. He'dtold Kate yesterday that Sarah wanted the divorce finalized by June, wanted to move on with her life, and he'd said it like he was discussing someone else's marriage, someone else's failure.
James had retreated into technology, building elaborate new systems for the inn that they probably didn't need. He'd installed security cameras, upgraded the Wi-Fi again, created a digital inventory system for linens that Rosa didn't understand and wouldn't use.
Kate figured it was easier to stay busy rather than talk about how Lillian's betrayal had cascaded through generations, how different all their lives might have been if she hadn't made those phone calls.
Dani was the only one who seemed to be processing it out loud, but her processing took the form of constant motion. She'd deep-cleaned every guest room, reorganized the supply closets, created event packages for holidays they hadn't even considered hosting. She talked while she worked, a stream of consciousness that touched on everything except what mattered.
“We could do a Fourth of July clambake,” she was saying now, having appeared beside Kate at the desk with yet another idea. “Traditional Maine style, on the beach. I've already talked to the permit office about using the public beach area, and if we partner with Charlie Brennan for the lobsters...”
“Dani.” Kate interrupted gently. “We need to talk about Lillian.”
“No, we need to plan for summer. We have eight weeks until peak season, and if we don't...”
“Dani.”
Her sister stopped, shoulders dropping. “I can't, Katie. I can't think about it. Every time I do, I see Mom crying at that door, pregnant with me, and I just... I can't.”
The front door opened, bringing in May morning air that smelled of ocean and fried clams. Ben entered, followed by awoman Kate didn't recognize. She was small, polished in a way that suggested money and careful maintenance, with the kind of blonde hair that looked natural but probably wasn't. She stood too close to Ben, her hand touching his arm with casual intimacy.
“Kate,” Ben said, and something in his voice was different, careful. “This is Melissa.”
The ex-wife. Kate knew it before he said it, could see it in the way Melissa looked at her with assessment disguised as friendliness, the way she kept her body angled toward Ben as if marking territory.
“I've heard so much about you,” Melissa said, extending a manicured hand. “About all of you, really. Ben says you're doing wonderful things with the inn.”
Her voice was cultured, the kind of accent that came from expensive schools and careful breeding. Everything Kate wasn't.
“Thank you,” Kate managed, shaking the offered hand. Melissa's grip was firm but her skin was soft, no calluses from work, no rough patches from weather and labor.
“I'm in town for a few days,” Melissa continued, though Kate hadn't asked. “Visiting my parents in York. Thought I'd stop by and see what Ben's been working on. He always did love a good restoration project.”
The way she said it made it sound like the inn was a hobby, something quaint Ben was playing with. Kate felt her spine straighten, that defensive anger that had been simmering since Lillian's confession finding a new target.
“It's more than a restoration,” Kate said coolly. “It's a business. A home.”
“Of course.” Melissa's smile didn't waver. “Ben always was sentimental about old buildings. It's one of the things I loved about him.”
Loved. Past tense. But she was standing too close for past tense, looking at him with eyes that suggested present possibility.
“I should get back to work,” Ben said, clearly uncomfortable. “Just wanted to introduce you two.”
