Kate didn’t say another word.
Outside, the snow continued to fall, erasing footprints and tire tracks, making everything clean and new. By morning, therewould be no trace that Lillian Whitfield had ever been here, which suited her just fine.
CHAPTER 4
Kate woke to silence. Not the peaceful quiet of early morning, but the muffled hush that meant serious snow. She checked her phone, 6:23 a.m., and no sound from Pop's room above. After last night, he'd probably sleep late. Meeting Lillian had taken something out of him, like wind leaving a sail.
She dressed in the dark: jeans, thermal shirt, thick wool sweater, and made her way downstairs. Through the kitchen window, the world had turned monochrome. At least eighteen inches had fallen overnight, transforming the inn's property into something from a snow globe. The harbor was invisible behind a wall of white.
The coffee maker gurgled to life as Kate stood at the window, watching dawn struggle through the storm clouds.
A truck engine rumbled outside, not Marcy's car, something bigger. Kate opened the back door to find Ben Calloway in the driveway, plowing. His truck had a plow attachment she hadn't noticed before, and he was methodically clearing the parking area, snow flying in neat arcs from the blade.
She bundled into her parka and walked out. He stopped when he saw her, rolling down his window.
“Figured you'd need plowing,” he called over the engine noise. “Your guests won't be able to get out otherwise.”
“I have a service.”
“Johnny's backed up. Heard him on the radio saying he won't get to the commercial properties until afternoon.” Ben gestured at the half-cleared lot. “I was out anyway, doing the neighbors’.”
The kindness of it caught her off guard. In Kennebunkport, especially among the year-rounders, people looked out for each other. But she wasn't used to being on the receiving end of that care. She'd always been the one doing the looking after.
“Thank you,” she managed. “What do I owe you?”
“Nothing. Neighborly gesture.” He shifted the truck into park and lingered, as if he wanted to say more. “You okay?”
The question was simple, but something in his tone, genuine concern without prying, made her throat tight. “I will be.”
“Good.” He nodded toward the inn. “I could start on those emergency repairs today. Weather's supposed to clear this afternoon. I put a tarp up yesterday, so I’ll have to clean off what came down last night. At least I can stop any more water getting in.”
“In this snow?”
“Snow's easier than rain. Safer, too. Everything's frozen, less likely to shift.” He paused. “That is, if you've decided to go ahead.”
Five thousand dollars. She had three thousand in the emergency fund, could probably scrape together another thousand from the operating account. The last thousand... she'd figure it out. She always did.
“Yes,” she heard herself say. “Let's do it.”
“I'll finish plowing, then get my gear.”
Kate went back inside to find Pop in the kitchen, wearing his robe and looking confused.
“Where's Elizabeth?” he asked.
Her heart sank. He was having one of those mornings. “She's not here right now, Pop.”
“But she was here last night. I saw her.”
Kate guided him to his chair, poured him coffee, half regular, half decaf, the way the doctor recommended. “That was Dani, Pop. And Grandmother Lillian.”
“Lillian.” His face darkened. “She wants to take everything.”
“No one's taking anything.”
But even as she said it, Kate wondered if it was true. Wasn't Lillian trying to take something? Not the inn itself, but something more precious: their independence, their right to struggle on their own terms, their carefully maintained distance from that world?
Rosa arrived at seven-thirty, her son having driven her in his four-wheel drive. She took one look at the dining room, still set with the good china, candles burned to stubs, and started clearing without questions. That was Rosa's gift: knowing when to talk and when to work in silence.
