Finn arranged everything on the tray - teapot, cups, scones and butter - with careful precision. "The doctor said you need to take it easier now, remember,” he reminded Ellen as he carried the tray to the small table beside her chair. "No standing for long periods, no lifting anything heavier than this teapot, and definitely no running up and down those stairs to check on the shop."
Ellen waved away his concerns. "Doctors always exaggerate. I'll be fine after a good cup of tea and a proper nap in my own bed."
Despite her light tone, Caroline noted how Ellen's hands trembled slightly as she reached for the teapot. Without comment, Finn stepped in, pouring the tea into three cups with steady hands. He added a splash of milk to Ellen's without asking, and Caroline realized he knew exactly how she took her tea too - another small detail accumulated through years of association.
Finn patted her arm. ”I'll be back tomorrow to check on you, but call if you need anything sooner." Then he turned to Caroline. "Her medication is on the counter - antibiotics twice a day with food, and the other one for inflammation as needed."
Caroline nodded, accepting the implied transfer of responsibility. "I've got it covered."
"I'm right here, you two," Ellen reminded them with mild exasperation. "Perfectly capable of managing my own medication schedule."
Finn gave her a skeptical look. "Like you 'managed' it last time? When I found a week's worth of untouched pills because you kept forgetting to take them with meals?"
The older woman blithely sipped her tea, neither confirming nor denying the accusation.
Caroline observed their interaction with growing understanding. Finn wasn't just the maintenance man; it seemed he was also Ellen's unofficial caretaker, friend, and perhaps the closest thing to family she'd had before Caroline's arrival.
The realization brought a complicated mixture of emotions - gratitude that Ellen hadn't been alone through her illness, a pang of guilt that it had taken that to bring Caroline to Nantucket, and something less easily defined when she thought about Finn's role in her aunt's life.
"I should get going," he said, checking his watch. "I've got a job on the easter shore that I've already pushed back twice."
"Go," Ellen shooed him with one hand. "Caroline and I will be fine. Won't we, dear?"
Caroline nodded, suddenly aware of the responsibility being placed on her shoulders - not just professional assessment of a failing business, but genuine care for a critically ill family member. "Of course we will."
Finn hesitated, his gaze moving between the two women as if assessing whether he could truly leave. Whatever he saw must have reassured him, because he nodded and moved toward the door.
“You too, dear,” Ellen remonstrated to her niece, with a knowing smile. “This old lady needs to rest.”
20
The Harbor HouseHotel gleamed white against the cerulean spring sky, its newly painted trim and flower boxes transforming what Jess remembered as a faded grande dame into something almost intimidatingly perfect.
Afternoon sunlight bounced off the recently restored cupola, creating a halo effect that made the building appear to glow from within.
She paused on the shell-strewn path, adjusting her sunglasses and gathering her thoughts. She was here to check on wedding preparations - that's what she kept telling herself, anyway - but the flutter in her stomach suggested a different motivation entirely.
"Just a quick walkthrough of the venue," she murmured to herself, stepping onto the wide porch where hanging ferns swayed in the gentle ocean breeze. The wooden boards beneath her sandals had been sanded and refinished, no longer threatening to catch at heels or snag on flowing dresses. Someone - Logan, her mind whispered before she could stop it - had evidently lavished careful attention on every detail.
The heavy oak door swung open soundlessly, revealing a lobby transformed from the slightly musty space of days of old. Sunlight poured through expanded windows, catching on polished brass fixtures and illuminating the crisp white walls. The old dark paneling had been stripped and lightened, the heavy drapes replaced with gauzy white curtains that lifted on the breeze from partially opened doors leading to the back terrace.
Fresh hydrangeas in varying shades of blue and purple filled oversized vases positioned strategically throughout the space, their delicate scent mingling with the stronger notes of salt air and lemon polish. A young woman stood behind the reception desk, her smile brightening as Jess approached.
"Good morning! How may I help you?"
"I'm just here to check on things for the Whitmore-Foster wedding on Saturday," Jess replied, her voice sounding unnaturally high to her own ears.”I’m Jessica Whitmore.”
The woman's smile widened with recognition. "Oh! Welcome!" She reached beneath the counter. "I have the updated timeline from your wedding planner right here."
Jess glanced at the folder - unmistakably Nadine's work with its color-coded tabs and printed labels. "Thank you. I'd like to see the reception space, if that's possible?"
"Of course! The Atlantic Ballroom is straight through there, past the library. Feel free to look around, and let me know if you need anything." The receptionist gestured toward a hallway to the right.
Jess nodded her thanks and moved through the lobby, her sandals silent against the sisal rugs that now covered the gleaming hardwood floors. The changes were both subtle and profound - every element of the hotel's historic character had been preserved but somehow elevated.
She paused at a large framed map of the island that hung in the hallway, her eyes automatically finding her parents' house near the harbor, the shops on Main Street, lighthouses and all the beaches and coves. The geography of her childhood laid out in meticulous detail, each location weighted with memories. Jess touched her engagement ring absently, rotating the substantial diamond with her thumb.
The ballroom doors stood open, revealing a space flooded with morning light. Gone were the heavy damask drapes and ornate crystal chandeliers of her memory, replaced by simple linen panels and modern fixtures that complemented rather than competed with the room's true feature - three walls of windows overlooking Nantucket Sound.
