“It’s not the same.”
“No,” Ben agreed. “But maybe it could be enough.”
Kate climbed down, leaving him in the attic with the boxes of memories. She found Pop in his room, Amy beside him, looking concerned.
“He's having a difficult afternoon,” Amy said quietly. “He thinks your mother is missing.”
Pop sat on his bed, fully dressed including his coat. “We have to look for her,” he said when he saw Kate. “Elizabeth went for a walk and hasn't come back.”
“Pop, Mom's not…”
Amy touched her arm lightly, shook her head. “Mrs. Perkins is probably just running errands,” Amy said to Pop. “Why don't we wait for her here?”
“But it's getting dark. She doesn't like the dark.”
Kate's throat tightened. Her mother had been afraid of the dark and had always left lights on throughout the inn.
“I'll go look for her,” Kate said. “You stay here with Amy where it's warm.”
“You'll find her?”
“I'll find her.”
Pop relaxed slightly, allowing Amy to help him out of his coat. Kate left them, walking through the inn with no destination in mind. The electricians had finished for the day, leaving behind new outlets, modern fixtures, the smell of fresh wiring. The inn was being renewed, reborn, made safe and solid.
But Pop was sliding away, further into the past where her mother still lived, where Kate was still a child covered in flour, where everything made sense.
She found herself at the harbor as sunset painted the sky pink and gold. Other people walked by, couples, families, dogs running free. Normal people living normal lives, not caught between past and present, between duty and desire, between who they were and who they might become. Tears formed in her eyes, but she refused to let them fall.
“Thought I might find you here.”
She didn't turn, recognizing Ben's voice, and wiped her eyes just in case. “How did you know?”
“You always come to the water when you're upset. Like you're looking for answers in the waves.”
“Do you watch me that closely?”
“Yes.”
The simple honesty of it made her shiver. She felt him move closer, not touching but near enough that she could feel his warmth.
“Pop thinks my mother is missing,” she said.
“Amy told me. I'm sorry.”
“He's going to forget me eventually. One day he'll look at me and see a stranger.”
“But not today.”
“No. Not today.”
They stood together watching the light fade, the water turning from gold to gray to black. Kate wanted to say something about the attic, about running, about the fear that sat like a stone in her chest. But the words wouldn't come.
“I should get back,” she said finally.
“Should you?”
She looked at him then, really looked. He was patient and kind and present in a way that terrified her. He saw her, not the innkeeper, not the caregiver, not the stubborn daughter. Just Kate.
