“Besides,” Tom added, “Dr. Perkins has a nice ring to it.”
“That's years away. First just the master's degree.”
“Whatever.” Dani waved dismissively. “You're going to be brilliant. Our sister, the marine biologist.”
Outside, they could hear carolers starting their rounds, voices carrying from Dock Square. The inn was full of warmth and light and paying guests. The business that had nearly failed in March was now booked solid through February. The siblings who had scattered had not just returned but had found their places, their purposes, their partners.
“We should get back to the guests,” Kate said, but nobody moved.
“In a minute,” Tom said. “This is a big moment. We should mark it.”
“With what? Champagne?” Dani asked.
“Hot chocolate,” James suggested. “With peppermint schnapps.”
“Perfect,” Kate agreed.
They made the drinks, Tom adding generous amounts of schnapps, and stood in a circle in their mother's kitchen.
“To Kate,” Tom said, raising his mug. “Who saved us all and now gets to save herself too.”
“To being a northern girl,” Kate said, “now and forever. With all the ice fishing and frozen harbor Santa sightings and graduate degrees that entails.”
They drank, the peppermint chocolate warming them from the inside, and Kate felt the rightness of her decision settle into her bones. Not choosing between paths but creating her own path that included everything she wanted.
“Now we really should check on guests,” Dani said. “I promised Mrs. Mitchell I’d walk her up to the widow’s walk.”
“And I need to check that hot water heater,” Ben added. “It's making that noise again.”
They scattered to their various duties, but Kate lingered in the kitchen for a moment. Through the window, she could see snow beginning to fall, the first real accumulation of the season. Tomorrow would bring the final Prelude events: the cookie walk, the artisan fair, the final concerts at Dock Square. Then Monday, she'd start preparing in earnest for school, ordering textbooks, figuring out her schedule, learning how to be a student again at thirty-five.
But tonight, with her family busy and happy around her, with Ben's kiss still warm on her lips, with her future finally beginning to take shape, Kate Perkins felt nothing but joy.
Pure, northern girl, ice-fishing, harbor-kissing, masters and doctorate-pursuing, inn-keeping joy.
Whatever she needed to do to make it all work, she was ready, one frozen Santa sighting at a time.
EPILOGUE
Five Months Later
Memorial Day Weekend
Kate sat in her ice fishing shack on Goose Pond at five in the morning, even though the ice had been gone for more than two months. Ben had helped her convert it to a summer thinking spot, same chair, same small table, same thermos of coffee, just without the auger and the hole in the ice. The shack now sat on a small floating platform, anchored where her winter spot would be, accessible by kayak when she needed to escape.
She opened her phone and looked at the email again, still not quite believing it.
Dear Ms. Perkins, We are pleased to inform you that your research proposal “Tidal Pool Ecosystem Recovery Following Storm Events in Southern Maine” has been accepted for publication in the Journal of Marine Biology. Additionally,based on your exceptional work, the committee strongly encourages you to apply for our doctoral program upon completion of your master's degree. We believe you would be an excellent candidate for our fellowship program.
Dr. Katherine Perkins. It was possible. More than possible if she kept up this level of work. Another three years after the master's, maybe four. She'd be forty, maybe forty-one when she finished. The oldest doctorate in the program's history, probably.
Her phone buzzed with a text from Dani: “Where are you??? You know the Brennan wedding is TODAY. I need all hands!”
Kate smiled, closed the email, got into her kayak and paddled back to shore.
By the time she reached the inn, controlled chaos was already in full swing. Dani had become the premier wedding planner in Kennebunkport, and today's event, Charlie's daughter marrying a summer person in what the town was calling the wedding of the year, would cement Whaler's Landing's reputation astheplace for celebrations.
“Finally!” Dani said, not looking up from her clipboard. “The flowers are wrong, the cake is late, and Mrs. Porter keeps offering opinions about the ceremony arrangement.”
