When she got back to the inn, she found organized chaos. Tom was in the lobby looking over blueprints and then pointing at walls and ceilings, mumbling something about load-bearing structures and electrical capacity.
James had transformed the dining room into some kind of command center. Multiple laptops, a printer, two monitors, and a whiteboard covered in color-coded renovation schedules.He was on a video call with someone, discussing networking infrastructure and bandwidth requirements.
Dani was there too, fabric samples draped over every chair, paint chips arranged in careful gradients on the table. She was on her phone, negotiating with someone about wholesale pricing for linens.
“Katie!” Tom called when he saw her. “Perfect timing. We need you to weigh in on the electrical upgrade. Full rewiring or just the critical areas?”
“And the networking infrastructure,” James added, muting his call. “If we're going to compete with modern hotels, we need fiber optics throughout.”
“Where's Amy?” she asked instead of answering any of them.
Tom's expression shifted from business to concern. “Pop had a difficult morning. She took him for a drive to calm him down.”
“Define difficult.”
Tom exchanged glances with James. “He packed again. Three suitcases this time. Said he needed to get home to Elizabeth, that she was waiting for him. When Amy tried to redirect him, he got agitated. Tried to walk to town in his slippers before she caught him.”
Kate's stomach clenched. The packing was becoming a daily occurrence now, along with the conviction that Elizabeth was alive and waiting somewhere.
“He didn't recognize Dani this morning either,” James added quietly. “Called her Elizabeth and got upset when she said she wasn't.”
“We need to talk about next steps,” Tom said in his lawyer voice, the one he used for difficult conversations. “Amy's wonderful, but she's one person. She can't watch him twenty-four hours a day for the rest of his life. Pop might need...”
“Don't say it.”
“… a memory care facility.” Tom finished anyway. “Somewhere with round-the-clock staff, secure doors, specialists who know how to handle dementia-related aggression.”
“He's not aggressive. He's confused.”
“Katie, he pushed Amy yesterday. Not hard, but still.”
“No.” Kate's voice was sharp. “He stays here. This is his home.”
“For how long?” Dani asked gently. “Until he hurts himself? Or someone else? Or wanders off and we can't find him?”
“We'll hire more help. Use Lillian's money.”
“It's not just about money,” Tom said. “It's about what's best for Pop. What Mom would want for him.”
Kate escaped to the kitchen, where Marcy was making soup. The familiar smell of chicken stock and vegetables grounded her slightly. Marcy took one look at her face and poured coffee without speaking.
“They want to put Pop in a home,” Kate said after the first sip.
“They want him safe,” Marcy corrected, sitting down across from her.
“Is there a difference?”
Marcy was quiet for a moment, stirring her coffee. “I know it’s a difficult thing to think about, but maybe it’s time. Love sometimes means accepting our limitations.”
The back door opened and Ben came in, carrying his toolbox. He nodded at Marcy, then focused on Kate.
“Tom said Pop had a rough morning.”
“He's okay. Amy took him for a drive.”
Ben studied her face, and she saw his eyes flicker to her mouth for just a second before meeting hers again. He'd noticed the lipstick. She knew he'd noticed. But he didn't say anything, didn't comment on the change, and somehow that made her likehim even more. He saw but didn't need to point it out, didn't need to make her self-conscious about this tiny attempt at being something more than practical.
He started to leave, then turned back. “I'm working on the Room 5 ceiling if you need anything.”
