Key West Promises (Seaside Palms #1)

Chapter 10

CHAPTER 10

K aitlyn slumped into her chair at the small kitchen table, exhaustion pressing down on her. She didn’t feel much like talking.

Tess studied her for a moment before breaking the silence. “Do you want to talk about the fundraiser?”

Kaitlyn hesitated, then shrugged. “Sure…I guess.”

Leah exchanged a glance with Tess before leaning forward. “I think it’s time we look into renting the boat, don’t you?”

The weight of the evening settled around them, thick and unspoken. Kaitlyn’s fingers traced the rim of her water glass, her movements slow, deliberate. Across the table, Leah tapped impatiently against the wooden surface, the soft rhythm filling the spaces where words failed.

Another message from Gretchen lit up Kaitlyn’s phone screen, and Leah finally had enough.

“Enough,” Leah said, setting her own phone face down on the table. “Kaitlyn, what’s really going on with you and your mother? She lived with us all last year. If something was wrong?—”

Kaitlyn laughed. “She would have told you?” she interrupted, her voice tight. She stood at the sink, staring out at Ernest’s evening patrols, her fingers gripping the edge of the counter as if steadying herself. “Because my mother is a liar.”

Shocked, Leah was angry. “Stop that. Whatever is going on with you, your mother doesn’t deserve that.”

“Oh really? What do you know about what my mother deserves? If she cared about any of us, she would have explained it all. Each of us had a right to know.”

Tess set down her spoon, her eyes narrowing. “Know what?”

Kaitlyn’s knuckles turned white. The silence stretched long enough for Leah to shift uncomfortably in her seat.

“Kaitlyn,” Leah said, her voice softer now, “talk to us.”

For a moment, it seemed like Kaitlyn might shut down completely, but then she turned, the tension in her face finally cracking.

“That he has another family. That I have a sister.”

The words hung in the air, sucking all sound from the room. Tess’s mug stopped halfway to her mouth. Leah’s spine straightened as if she’d been shocked.

“What are you talking about?” Leah asked carefully. “Your father and Gretchen divorced when you were in high school. If he had another family, Gretchen would have?—”

“She knew , Leah.” Kaitlyn turned, and there were tears in her eyes despite her fierce expression. “She’s always known. Since before he left us.”

Tess shook her head slowly, horror dawning on her face. “No. That’s not…Gretchen would have told us. When she stayed with us, when she was going through the divorce?—”

“She didn’t tell you because she didn’t want anyone to know. When he left, she already knew his mistress was pregnant,” Kaitlyn said, her voice shaking now. “I found out by accident—right after college graduation. I was scrolling through my Instagram feed when I saw a ‘suggested connection’—a woman named Joanna Miller. The name didn’t mean anything to me at first, but when I clicked on her profile, I saw him . My father. Then I realized who she was. He was smiling in photos with her, holding their daughter at a birthday party, sitting front row at a school recital. Like some perfect family man. Years and years of photos telling a story I had no knowledge of.”

Leah’s face darkened. “Gretchen knew ? And she said nothing?”

“She knew,” Kaitlyn said, her voice breaking. “She let it happen . And not just that—she made sure I never had the chance to know my sister or to see my father. She kept him away from me, Leah. Not because he left, but because she made him leave. She punished him for cheating by punishing me .”

Tess inhaled sharply, covering her mouth. “Oh, sweetheart…”

“She kept my sister from me. She knew about her the whole time, from the moment he walked away from us.” Kaitlyn’s voice grew stronger, more bitter. “She didn’t want me to know I had a sibling. She didn’t want me to know the truth. And when I confronted her, she just…she admitted it like it was nothing. Like it wasn’t my life she was playing with.”

Silence fell again, broken only by the whir of the air conditioner and the distant sound of Ernest greeting the evening. Each woman seemed lost in recalculation—of memories, of assumptions, of family bonds they thought they understood.

“Just like Mom and Dad,” Tess whispered.

“Stop it, Tess,” Leah insisted. “This is nothing like Mom and Dad.”

Leah stood slowly, pressing her palm flat against the table as if grounding herself. “We have to talk to Gretchen.”

“No!” Kaitlyn spun to face her aunts, her eyes flashing with something between panic and fury. “You can’t . Please. I don’t want her to know I’m here. It will destroy everything.”

“Keeping this secret will destroy us more,” Leah said softly. “Trust me, secrets like this…they don’t stay buried. They rot everything from the inside out.”

“Like they’re rotting you.” Tess spoke gently.

Kaitlyn’s shoulders slumped. All the fight seemed to drain out of her at once. “I don’t know how to face her. How do you face someone who has spent years lying to you? I don’t even know what to say to her right now. I need time.”

Tess and Leah exchanged a look—the kind of silent communication that came from years of sisterhood. But this time it carried the weight of their own shock and anger Gretchen had lied to them as well. She lied to Chelsea and now was living on Captiva Island to be near her, still holding on to her secret.

Leah’s heart raced. How had they not known? How had they lived with Gretchen for a year and never suspected?

“All right, but Kaitlyn, send your mother a text and tell her you need time. Gretchen should understand that. Not answering her calls at all won’t make her stop,” Tess said finally. “We’ll figure this out together, and when we do, we’ll all confront this at the same time.”

Leah added, finally moving to pull Kaitlyn into a hug, “Tonight we just…process.”

Through the window, they could see the stars emerging over Key West. Somewhere in Miami, another family was ending their day, unaware that their lives were about to intersect with a truth long hidden. And in a small yellow bungalow, three women held on to each other, their own constellation of love and hurt and healing, trying to find their way forward in the face of a past that refused to stay buried.

Kaitlyn sat at her desk at Paradise Harbor House, sifting through a stack of donation receipts. The quiet hum of the morning surrounded her, broken only by the occasional rustle of paper.

She had come in early, hoping the routine would keep her mind occupied, but last night’s discussion still pressed heavily against her thoughts. Sunlight streamed through the windows, illuminating dust motes in its path, a soft contrast to the restlessness churning inside her.

Her phone lay face down beside her, silent since she'd sent her mother the brief text Tess had insisted on: "I need time. Please respect that."

The sound of equipment being set up made her look up. Will was arranging his camera near the common room windows, talking quietly with Elena about lighting. The sight of his camera made something twist in her stomach. How many family photos had her father taken with his other daughter while Kaitlyn waited for even a phone call?

"Morning," Will called, noticing her. "The light's perfect for interviews today. Elena thought maybe we could talk about the community outreach program."

"No." The word came out sharp enough to make Elena glance over in concern. Kaitlyn softened her tone with effort. "No interviews. Not today."

Will's eyebrows rose slightly as he studied her. Gone was his usual easy confidence, replaced by something more careful. "Everything okay? You seem…"

"I'm fine." She gathered the receipts into a neat pile, needing order in something. "I just…I don't think we should be recording people's stories right now. Some things aren't meant to be documented."

Elena touched Will's arm lightly. "Maybe we should focus on the building today. The garden, the renovations…"

"Right," Will agreed, but his eyes stayed on Kaitlyn. "Though sometimes telling our stories helps us understand them better."

Kaitlyn's laugh held no humor. "And sometimes stories are just lies we tell ourselves to make the truth easier to swallow."

She thought of all those years her mother had fed her explanations about why her father stayed away, each one calculated to keep her from discovering Joanna, from knowing about her sister.

Will set his camera down entirely, an action that made her look up in surprise. "Want to talk about it? Off the record, obviously."

"Why? So you can understand the human condition better? Get some insight into family dynamics?" The bitterness in her voice surprised even her. "Sorry. That wasn't…I should go check on the donation sorting."

But as she turned to leave, his quiet voice stopped her. "You know what I've learned, doing this work? Everyone thinks their pain is unique. That no one could possibly understand. But sometimes sharing it helps us realize we're not as alone as we think."

Kaitlyn turned back slowly, seeing the genuine concern in his expression. For a moment, she almost wanted to tell him everything—about finding Joanna's Instagram, about her half-sister's life documented in perfect filtered squares, about her mother's years of careful deception.

Instead, she said, "Some stories aren't ready to be told." She gestured at his camera. "Not everything needs to be captured and shared."

Will nodded, accepting her boundary without pushing. "Fair enough. But if you ever want to talk—no cameras, no documentation—I'm a pretty good listener."

Something in his tone, the complete lack of pressure, made her throat tight. "I'll keep that in mind."

As she walked away, she could feel his gaze following her, seeing more than she was ready to show. Her phone buzzed in her pocket—probably another message from her mother—but she left it unanswered. Some truths needed time to settle, to find their own way into the light.