“I don't expect forgiveness,” Lillian said. “I destroyed your parents' life out of pride and spite. But I need you to know that I've thought about it every day. Every success I had was poisoned by knowing what I'd done. Every lonely holiday, every empty achievement, every night in that big house alone, I thought about the family I threw away. Including your grandfather. It was my own fault. I focused on the wrong things.”
“Good,” Kate said, surprising herself with the vehemence.
“Yes,” Lillian agreed. “Good. I deserved every moment of that suffering.”
“And yet, Mom forgave you.”
“Your mother was always better than me. Better than all of us.” Lillian shifted carefully, pain evident in every movement.
“What I don’t understand is why neither my mother nor Pop ever said a thing about their financial ruin at your hands. How could you keep so much hatred a secret? It’s near impossible to hide anything in this town. Why didn’t anyone tell us?”
“It’s simple. I threatened everyone who would try to take me down. Your parents were loved in this town. I was hated.”
“Apparently, you still are. That article certainly didn’t paint a lovely picture of Lillian Whitfield.”
“That’s true, your parents knew nothing of the extent of my cruelty. They’ve never known. What your mother forgave me for was making her choose between your father and me. That’s all. You and your siblings now have the truth.”
Stunned, Kate shook her head. “I can’t believe this. Surely someone told them. These are the kind of secrets that are hard to keep hidden, especially in a small town.”
“Kate, I’m a very powerful women with enough money to control the narrative. There were plenty in my employ who handled things discreetly.”
For a few minutes, neither woman said a word. Finally, Lillian continued. “With a trust structure I’ve created, you and your siblings will work together going forward. That means it requires all four of you to agree on major decisions. You'll have to work together, to be the family I prevented you from being.”
“You can't force us to be a family with legal documents.”
“No, but I can make it profitable for you to try.” Lillian stood slowly. “I'll start hospice at the cottage. If you want to visit, you can. If you don't, I understand. But know that your motherwould want you to at least consider forgiveness, not for me, but for yourselves. Carrying hatred is exhausting. I should know.”
Lillian pushed herself up with her cane. “I need to rest. I realize there is a lot for you to absorb. If I can give you any advice it would be this, accept what has been done and move on. You can’t do anything about the past. I’m a testament to that. It’s the future you must hold on to. Focus on the future. It’s all you have.”
Lillian walked to her car, leaving Kate struggling to understand her grandmother’s actions.
After Lillian left, Kate sat alone on the porch, thinking about forgiveness, about love, about the way damage cascaded through generations.
Her phone buzzed with another text from Ben:“Melissa's leaving tomorrow. My answer was no. It's always been no. You're not a project, Kate. You're the love of my life. When you're ready to believe that, I'll be here.”
She wanted to respond, to drive back to his workshop, to choose happiness in the middle of chaos like her mother had. But the weight of Lillian's betrayal, of Pop's deterioration, of the inn's endless needs, held her in the chair.
Tomorrow, she thought. Tomorrow she'd be brave.
But tomorrow felt as far away as forgiveness, as impossible as letting go of the anger that had become almost comfortable in its familiarity.
The inn creaked around her, settling into night, holding another generation's worth of secrets and broken promises and the possibility, always the possibility, of something better.
CHAPTER 29
Kate stood on the inn's porch at dawn, watching the sun paint the harbor in shades of gold and pink while she mentally ran through the day's tasks. They had twelve rooms occupied at the same time, their highest number since the previous summer, and a wedding reception tomorrow that Dani had somehow convinced a couple from Portland to book despite their limited facilities. The end of May’s weather seemed to cooperate, making the outdoor wedding plans a perfect way to celebrate the nuptials.
The coffee in her hand had gone cold while she stood there, her mind circling the same problems that had kept her awake most of the night. Lillian had been in hospice for two weeks now, the cottage she'd rented transformed into a medical facility with the efficiency that money could buy. Kate hadn't visited. Neither had Tom or James. Only Dani had gone once, returning with red eyes and no information about what had been discussed.
Inside, the inn was already stirring. She could hear Marcy in the kitchen, the rhythmic sound of her knife work as she prepped for breakfast. Rosa's voice carried from upstairs, directing her daughters, two volunteers for the summer, in themorning routine of room service. The pipes groaned and settled as guests began their showers, the old building complaining about the demands on its ancient plumbing despite Ben's repairs.
Ben. She hadn't spoken to him beyond necessary construction conversations since that night in his workshop. His declaration of love, although beautifully articulated, felt difficult to answer having been delivered via text.
He arrived each morning, did his work, and left without the easy conversation that had once marked their interactions. The loss of that rhythm, that comfortable presence, felt like another grief she didn't have time to process. Her inability to commit to him that night had given Ben the only answer he needed. Since that text, Kate knew she’d thrown away the only good thing that had happened to her.
Tom appeared on the porch beside her, dressed for his morning run, though he hadn't actually run in days. Instead, he'd been disappearing for hours, returning with no explanation. This morning, though, he lingered.
“I've been seeing someone,” he said.
