The siblings exchanged glances. This was one of Pop's middle spaces, where past and present blurred together like watercolors running. Amy stepped in smoothly, her professional calm a blessing.
“Let's get you settled in your chair, Daniel. Marcy's making breakfast.”
As Pop settled into his usual spot, Kate watched her brothers watch him. They were seeing the decline, really seeing it for the first time in months. The way his hands shook slightly when he reached for his coffee, the confusion that drifted across his face like clouds, the thinness that no amount of Marcy’s goodcooking could reverse. Tom's jaw tightened. James blinked rapidly, looking away.
Marcy set about making a proper breakfast, the kind she only made when they had a full house. Eggs, bacon, Pop’s famous blueberry pancakes that he’d taught her to make years ago. The kitchen filled with warmth and familiar smells, but the atmosphere remained tense, like the air before a storm.
“So that’s Amy, huh?” James asked. “How’s that going?”
“Fine. Can we get back to the point? So you're both just taking extended time off?” Kate pressed, not willing to let it go. “Tom, you haven't taken more than three days off since you made partner. You worked through pneumonia last year. You had your laptop at Dad's birthday dinner.”
“Things change,” Tom said, but he was doing that thing with his absent wedding ring, his thumb rubbing the empty space, a gesture so unconscious he probably didn't know he was doing it.
“And James, your company's okay with you working remotely from Maine? That startup that just got, what was it, fifty million in funding?”
“Very flexible about remote work,” James said, but his laugh was hollow and his eyes didn't meet hers. “Modern tech company, you know. All about that work-life balance.”
Kate noticed he'd said 'work-life balance' with the kind of bitter emphasis that suggested something had definitely gone wrong with either the work or the life part. Maybe both.
The morning sun slanted through the windows, highlighting the dust motes dancing in the air and the wear on everything. The water stain on the ceiling had grown since last week. The linoleum near the sink was starting to peel. Tom seemed to be cataloging it all, his lawyer's eye taking in every flaw, every sign of decay.
“The inn sure is in bad shape,” he said quietly.
“It's getting better,” Kate said defensively. “Ben's been working on the roof, the electricians are coming back next week, we have plans...”
“Ben?” Tom's attention sharpened. “The contractor?”
“Yes, the contractor. Who's been here every day actually fixing things instead of just observing them.”
And who was taking her to dinner tonight, she thought but didn't say. Her stomach did a little flip at the thought. She'd agreed in a moment of weakness, or maybe strength; she couldn't tell anymore. But the idea of sitting across from Ben, of having a conversation that wasn't about family drama or renovation budgets or Pop's decline, felt like something she both wanted desperately and feared in equal measure.
Before Tom could respond, they heard boots on the porch. Ben knocked and entered, a courtesy he'd maintained despite basically living at the inn during daylight hours.
“Katie, about dinner tonight. What kind of food do you like? I was thinking…”
Ben stopped short when he saw the full kitchen, taking in the brothers, their equipment spread across the table, the feeling of a family summit in progress.
Kate's breath caught slightly. He was wearing his work clothes, jeans worn soft and a flannel shirt with the sleeves rolled up, revealing forearms marked with the small scars and calluses of honest work. His hair was still damp from his morning shower.
Their eyes met across the crowded kitchen, and something passed between them. A reminder of tonight, of the promise of a few hours away from all this. She felt her cheeks warm and looked away quickly, but not before catching Dani's knowing smirk.
“Sorry, didn't realize you had company this early.”
“Ben, you remember my brothers,” Kate said, her voice carefully neutral, though she was acutely aware of how she must look. No makeup, old clothes, hair probably standing up at odd angles.
“Good to see you again.” Ben shook hands with both men, his grip firm but not challenging. Kate noticed how he assessed them quickly, the same way he'd evaluate a structure. Tom, wound too tight, compensating with controlled precision. And James, exhausted but maintaining a cheerful facade, energy flagging beneath the surface.
“Staying long?” Ben asked casually, though his eyes flicked to Kate with a question.
“Indefinitely,” Tom said, and Kate saw Ben's eyebrows raise slightly.
“That's great. Extra hands always help with renovations. Lot of work to do here.”
“Exactly,” James said with forced brightness. “Family should stick together during big transitions.”
Ben's eyes found Kate's again, and this time she saw concern there, maybe a question about tonight, about whether she'd need to cancel. She gave a tiny shake of her head. No. She needed tonight now more than ever, needed something that was just hers, not about family obligations or failing inns or brothers with secrets.
“I should get started on that roof section,” Ben said, reading the room with the intuition she was coming to appreciate. “Weather report shows rain coming in this afternoon. Want to get the vulnerable area sealed.”
