Amy appeared in the doorway, already dressed despite the hour. She took in the scene with practiced calm.
“I've got this,” she said quietly to Kate. “Go back to bed.”
But Kate couldn't sleep after that. She made coffee and sat at the kitchen table, watching Amy gently redirect Pop back to his room, the box of canned goods left on the counter like evidence of a crime.
By the time the sun actually rose, painting the harbor in shades of pink and gold, Kate had already reviewed the insurance paperwork, answered emails from worried guests about future reservations, and made a list of everything that still needed repairing after the storm.
Tom found her there, list in hand, staring at numbers that didn't quite add up even with the insurance payout.
“You're up early,” he said, pouring his own coffee.
“Pop was packing for a storm that already happened.”
“Ah.” Tom sat across from her. “Amy handled it?”
“She always does.” Kate set down her pencil. “That's the problem.”
“Most people would say that's the solution.”
“She's so competent. So perfect. Pop doesn't fight her the way he fights us.”
“And that bothers you.”
“Shouldn't it? Some stranger manages him better than his own daughter?”
Tom was quiet for a moment, then said, “Maybe it's easier for him with her. No emotional baggage, no memories to get confused about. She's just the nice lady who helps him.”
“While I'm the daughter he sometimes doesn't recognize.”
“Kate...” Tom's lawyer voice softened. “It's not about you. The disease doesn't care about fairness or who loves him most.”
Before Kate could respond, they heard a truck in the drive. Through the window, she watched Ben's vehicle pull up, followed by another truck she didn't recognize. Ben got out and began unloading something from the back.
“What's he doing now?” Kate muttered, heading for the door.
She found Ben and another man carrying furniture toward the porch. Not just any furniture: her mother's chairs, restored to their former beauty. The wood gleamed with fresh polish, the upholstery had been replaced with fabric that matched the original pattern so closely Kate had to look twice to see the difference.
“Surprise,” Ben said, setting down his end carefully.
Kate stood frozen, staring at the chairs. They were perfect. They were exactly as her mother would have wanted them.
“You said you weren't done with them.”
“I lied. Wanted to surprise you.” He guided the chair into position in the lobby, right where it had always been. “What do you think?”
What she thought was that she might cry. What she thought was that this man had spent weeks secretly restoring something precious to her, had saved it from the dump, had cared enough to match the exact pattern of roses her mother had chosen thirty years ago.
“I think...” she started, then stopped. “Thank you.”
Dani appeared, gasped at the chairs, and immediately sat in one. “Oh, Katie, they're perfect. Mom would have loved this.”
“Mom did love them,” Kate corrected. “That's why Ben saved them.”
She looked at Ben, his patient expression suggested he could wait forever for her to figure out what everyone else already seemed to know.
“I should pay you. For the restoration.”
“No.” His voice was firm. “This wasn't a job. This was...”
