Kate wanted to protest, to say it was too fast, she wasn't ready. But Pop was in the kitchen, trying to make tea, putting the kettle in the refrigerator instead of on the stove.
“Okay,” she said quietly. “Tomorrow.”
That evening, after her siblings had left, Tom back to Boston, James to a hotel in town, Dani to her room at the Harbor Hotel, Kate sat with Pop in the sunroom. The sun was setting over the harbor, painting everything gold.
“Good day?” Pop asked.
“Complicated day.”
“Those are sometimes the same thing.” He patted her hand with his papery one. “You're a good girl, Katie. Your mother would be proud.”
Kate wanted to tell him everything, about Lillian, about the money, about the nurse coming tomorrow. But he looked so peaceful, so content in this moment, that she just squeezed his hand and said, “Thanks, Pop.”
Later, alone in her room, she pulled out her mother's letters again. In the last one, there was a line she'd missed the first time:
I've named her Katherine, after your mother. Maybe someday that will mean something to you. Maybe someday she'll bridge the gap I couldn't.
Kate folded the letter carefully and put them in her nightstand. Outside, she could hear Ben's truck pulling away, he'd worked until dark, determined to seal the roof before the next storm.
Tomorrow, everything would change. A nurse would come. Repairs would begin in earnest. Lillian would become part of their lives. The inn would be saved, but it would no longer be purely theirs.
Kate lay in bed, staring at the ceiling, wondering if her mother would approve. If Elizabeth would see this as reconciliation or capitulation. If bridging the gap was worth the cost of pride.
Somewhere in the house, Pop wandered. She could hear his footsteps, searching for something or someone who existed only in memory. Tomorrow, there would be someone else to guide him back to bed, someone trained and capable and professional.
Tonight was the last night it would be just them, Kate and Pop and the failing inn, held together by stubbornness and love and not much else.
She should have felt relieved. Instead, she felt like she was mourning something she couldn't quite name.
CHAPTER 7
The nurse arrived at seven sharp, just as Kate was trying to convince Pop that his coffee mug didn't belong in the bathroom cabinet. Her name was Amy Atkinson, and she came with impeccable credentials, and a smile that seemed genuinely warm rather than professionally practiced.
“Mr. Perkins,” she said, extending her hand to Pop. “I'm Amy. I'm here to help around the house.”
“We don't need help,” Pop said, looking at Kate. “Katie takes care of everything.”
Kate felt her chest tighten. She'd been taking care of everything for so long, she didn't know how to stop. “It’s all right, Pop, Amy's just going to help me with a few things.”
Pop's jaw set in the stubborn line Kate knew so well, she saw it in the mirror every morning.
“I'm actually here to learn about the inn. I heard you know more about this place than anyone.”
Pop's expression softened slightly. “Well, that's true. Been here thirty-six years.”
“Would you show me around? I'd love to hear the history.”
As Pop led Amy toward the lobby, already launching into the story of the 1989 renovation, Kate stood in the kitchen feeling displaced. She'd expected resistance from Pop, but not this strange emptiness in her own chest. Someone else would manage him now. Someone else would know his routines, his medications, his good days and bad.
“That was smooth,” Dani said from the doorway, having stayed overnight in her old room. “She's good.”
“Lillian hired her.”
“So she must be the best.” Dani poured coffee, studying Kate over the rim. “You look like someone stole your puppy.”
“I'm fine,” Kate lied.
“You're not. You're wondering what you're supposed to do now that someone else is taking care of Pop.”
