Kate sat beside her sister on the porch steps. “Maybe we're both trying too hard to be what we think we should be.”
“What do you mean?”
“You're trying to be helpful. I'm trying to be independent. Maybe we should just try to be sisters.”
Dani leaned against her shoulder, something she hadn't done in years. “Lillian seemed really hurt. What you said about dying and desperate.”
“I know.”
“She actually looked sick for the first time. Like, properly ill.”
Properly ill?Kate thought about that. Every time she'd seen Lillian before, the woman had been perfectly put together, energetic, commanding. Today, after Kate's harsh words, she seemed fragile.
“I should apologize,” Kate said, though the words stuck in her throat.
“She should apologize too. She was overstepping.”
They sat together as the sun started to set, sisters on the porch of their childhood home, trying to figure out how to be a family with all these complicated pieces.
Marcy came out with a tray of tea and cookies. “Thought you could use this.”
“Marcy, did you know about the chairs?” Kate asked.
“Saw them being loaded this morning. Figured it would cause a fuss.”
“Why didn't you stop them?”
“Not my place. But…” Marcy paused, choosing her words. “Your mother wouldn't have cared about the chairs. She cared about the people in them.”
After Marcy went back inside, Kate noticed Ben's truck was gone. He'd left without saying goodbye, probably sensing she needed space. The man had an uncanny ability to know when to push and when to retreat.
“He likes you,” Dani said.
“Ben? He's just…”
“Kate. Everyone can see it. The way he looks at you. The way you don't look at him.”
“I look at him.”
“You look and then you look away, like you're afraid of looking too long, of wanting something for yourself.”
Kate didn't deny it. She was afraid. Afraid of wanting, of needing, of opening herself to the possibility of loss.
“Tom called,” Dani said, changing the subject. “He worked with Brian on the mortgage. The bank officially accepted the payoff. The inn is ours, free and clear.”
Ours. The word should have brought relief. Instead, Kate felt the weight of it, the inn was saved, but at what cost? They were tied to Lillian now, to her money and her opinions and her need to be part of their lives.
That evening, Kate found Pop in his room, looking through an old photo album Amy had found for him.
“Look,” he said, pointing to a picture. “Elizabeth with her chairs.”
There was her mother, young and pregnant, sitting in one of the chairs they'd thrown away today. She was laughing at something off-camera, one hand on her belly, the other reaching toward whoever was taking the picture, probably Pop.
“She was beautiful,” Kate said.
“Inside and out.” Pop turned the page. “That's what her mother never understood. Elizabeth's beauty wasn't in the fancy things. It was in how she made everyone feel at home. I’m just glad her father recognized how special his daughter was.”
“Grandfather? No one ever talks about him. What was he like?”
