“I’ve got to run, but I wanted to give these to you. I totally messed up. I should have given this to you earlier. You could have used these decorations today,” Ben said, handing a cardboard box to Kate. “I’ll talk to you later?”
She smiled. “I’ll be here.”
Inside the box were their parents’ Fourth of July decorations, the ones their mother had collected over the years. Flags Kate remembered from childhood, a handmade sign that said Whaler’s Landing Welcomes You in their mother’s careful painting.
“I forgot about these,” Tom said softly, touching the sign.
“I remember Mom telling me she’d made this the first year they bought the inn,” Kate said. “She was so proud.”
They passed the items around, each decoration carrying memory. Their parents had loved the Fourth of July, had always made it special despite the work involved. Now their children were carrying on that tradition, different but rooted in the same love for this place.
“We should hang these next year,” Dani said. “Mix the old with the new.”
“Mom would love that,” James agreed.
Tom held the little wooden flag from the box, turning it over thoughtfully. “You know, if we really want every room booked next summer too, we should probably talk about something.”
Dani looked up from untangling a string of decorations. “Uh-oh. Tom has his family meeting voice.”
“It's not a meeting,” he protested. “It's more of a confession.”
James and Dani exchanged glances, and Kate caught the look.
“What's going on?” Kate asked.
Tom took a breath. “The three of us have been talking. For weeks now. About the future.”
“You’ve been talking, without me,” Kate said, not a question.
“We didn't want to worry you,” Dani said quickly. “You've had so much on your plate.”
James jumped in. “We've all decided to stay. Really stay. Make Kennebunkport home again, permanently. But we also realized something important.”
“We can't live here,” Tom finished. “Not if we're going to be a real family again. We need our own spaces. Places where we're not innkeeper's kids or employees or whatever. Just ourselves.”
Kate felt something tighten in her chest. “So you’re leaving?”
“No,” all three said at once.
“We’re staying,” Dani corrected. “But to do it right. As adults who choose to be here, not kids who got stuck here.”
James cleared his throat. “I bought the old Kendrick place. Closed on it yesterday.”
“Dani found a studio above the bakery,” Tom added.
“And Tom's been looking at that apartment over the hardware store that has enough room for an office,” Dani finished. “We've been coordinating. Making sure we could all move out around the same time so you wouldn't feel abandoned in stages.”
Kate stared at them. “How long have you been plotting this?”
“Since Memorial Day,” James admitted. “When we realized we were actually happy here. All of us. For the first time since Mom died.”
“We wanted to figure it out before telling you,” Tom said. “Have a plan that showed we weren't abandoning the inn or you. Just growing up, finally.”
“Thirty-three is a little late to move out of your childhood home,” Tom added with a weak smile.
“Twenty-eight isn't much better,” Dani agreed.
Kate was quiet for a long moment, processing. Her siblings had been meeting without her, making plans without her, protecting her from their decisions like she was fragile.
