James took the photo next, studying it with his analytical eye. “Look at Mom's face. She's happy. Not just peaceful, but happy.”
They sat with that for a moment, recalibrating everything they thought they knew.
“Whatever she wants to tell us,” Tom said finally, “I bet you anything it's going to change things.”
“Everything's already changed,” James pointed out. “Pop's gone, mentally. The inn's failing. We're all back here pretending we know how to be a family.”
“We're not pretending,” Dani said defensively. “We're trying.”
“Five days,” Kate repeated, bringing them back to the immediate problem. “We need to be ready. The brunch will be chaos, we'll all be running on fumes, and then we have to sit through whatever Lillian needs to say. What I don’t want is for her to think we’re divided at all. She needs to accept we’re on the same page and in agreement with…”
Tom laughed. “With what? We’ve hardly ever agreed on anything.”
Kate smiled. “I’m aware, but just for this situation, can we all pretend? We don’t have a clue what she wants, but I can promise you it won’t be something we’ll be happy about. I have a feeling this is some final goodbye looking for absolution. What we need to do is only promise to discuss amongst the four of us, privately. Don’t agree to anything, and when we do, we do it together.”
“Together,” Tom said, and for once it didn't sound like he was planning an escape route.
“Together,” the others echoed.
For a moment, no one moved. Then a smell began to creep into the kitchen, something burning.
“Oh no,” Tom jumped up. “I was making eggs.”
They rushed to the stove where Tom's attempt at scrambled eggs had become a smoking black mass welded to the pan.
“How?” Dani demanded. “How do you burn eggs that badly?”
“I got distracted thinking about Sarah,” Tom answered.
“Tom, you've been distracted your whole life and you've never created charcoal eggs before.”
James grabbed the fire extinguisher. “Should I?”
“No!” Kate grabbed the pan, rushed it to the sink. “Open the windows. If guests smell this they’ll think we should call the fire department.”
They scattered to open windows, Tom apologizing, Dani laughing despite everything, James documenting the disaster with his phone “for posterity.”
Ben appeared in the doorway, drawn by the smoke. “Everything okay?”
“Tom tried to cook,” everyone said simultaneously.
Ben surveyed the scene, the smoking pan, the four siblings frantically waving dish towels at the smoke detector, the photograph still sitting on the table.
“Pizza for lunch?” he suggested mildly.
“Pizza,” they agreed.
As the smoke cleared and they settled back around the table, Ben called in a pizza order.
“I’m glad we’re getting together right now. We need to talk over how Sunday’s going to go,” Tom said, back in lawyer mode. “Who's handling what on Sunday?”
“I've got the kitchen covered,” Kate said. “Marcy and I can handle service.”
“I'll manage the front of house,” Dani added, already making notes on her tablet. “Keep guests happy, keep things moving.”
“I'll handle checkout and technical issues,” James offered.
“And I'll be backup for whoever needs it,” Tom said.
