“A family meeting. We need to discuss Pop's care, the inn, Lillian's offer.”
Kate sighed. “There's nothing to discuss.”
Dani pulled off her sunglasses, and Kate could see the frustration in her eyes. “There's everything to discuss. Pop's getting worse, don't deny it. The inn is failing. You're drowning. And there's a solution sitting right there, but you're too proud to take it.”
“It's not about pride.”
“Isn't it?” Dani's voice rose. “What else would you call it? You'd rather lose everything than accept help from her?”
Above them, Kate could hear Ben working, the rhythmic sound of hammer on nails. She wondered what he thought of all this family drama playing out beneath him.
“I need to help with breakfast,” Kate said, turning away.
“You can't keep running from this.”
“Watch me.”
But Dani was right, and Kate knew it. She couldn't run, not with Tom and James coming, not with Pop getting worse, not with the bank breathing down her neck. The walls were closing in, and all her stubbornness couldn't hold them back.
Inside, she found Rosa in the dining room, serving the couple in Room 7, the Mitchells from Connecticut, here for their anniversary. They looked happy, comfortable, holding hands over their coffee cups. The wife laughed at something her husband said, the sound bright in the quiet morning.
“Good morning. How is your day so far?” Mrs. Mitchell asked, noticing Kate.
“Perfect,” Kate lied, smiling. “How are the eggs?”
“Wonderful. This place is so charming. So authentic.”
Authentic. Another word for falling apart, Kate thought, but kept smiling. “We try to maintain the historic character.”
“Well, you're doing beautifully. We'll definitely be back.”
Kate doubted the inn would still be here for them to come back to, but she nodded and retreated to the kitchen. Marcy was there, prepping for lunch, her movements efficient and calm.
“Your sister's wound tight this morning,” Marcy observed.
“My brothers are coming.”
“Ah.” Marcy didn't need more explanation. “Want me to make something special for dinner?”
“No point pretending this is a celebration.”
“Family gatherings are always worth marking, even the difficult ones.” Marcy paused in her chopping. “Family is family, even when they're being impossible.”
Kate thought of her mother, trying to bridge the gap with Lillian, writing letters that were never answered. Had Elizabeth felt this same weight, this pressure to hold everything togetherwhile also being pulled apart? How much she wished her mother was here so she could ask.
Kate thought about getting in some ice-fishing before her brothers arrived, but her frustration with their intrusion meant there would be no relaxing today.
Tom arrived at one o'clock in his BMW, still in his lawyer suit under a black cashmere coat, phone pressed to his ear. He finished his call before coming in, taking time to survey the inn's exterior with an expression Kate couldn't read.
“Katie,” he said, hugging her briefly. He smelled like expensive cologne and success, everything she wasn't.
“You didn't need to come.”
“Clearly I did. And it’s nice to see you, too.” He looked around the lobby, taking in the water stains, the worn carpet, the general air of decline. “It's worse than I thought.”
“Thanks for the pep talk.”
“I'm not here to make you feel better. I'm here to talk sense.” He pulled off his coat, hung it carefully on the rack. “Where's Pop?”
