Chapter 14
CHAPTER 14
C helsea Marsden-Thompson stepped out of her car into the humid Key West morning, her designer sundress already wilting in the heat. She hadn't warned her sisters she was coming—hadn't really planned to come at all until Gretchen's increasingly frantic calls about Kaitlyn had pushed her to action.
As the eldest of the Lawrence sisters, Chelsea had long ago accepted her role as family mediator, but lately the weight of that responsibility felt heavier than usual.
After checking in at a small Airbnb a block away from her sisters’ place, she dropped her suitcase on the bed and then drove to the yellow bungalow on Fleming Street.
It looked smaller than she remembered from her last visit, its cheerful paint seeming almost defiant against the weathered homes surrounding it. Ernest strutted past eyeing her with what she could have sworn was literary judgment. Some things, at least, hadn't changed.
Before she could reach the door, it swung open to reveal Tess, still in her pajamas, coffee mug frozen halfway to her lips.
"Chelsea?" Tess blinked rapidly, as if her older sister might be a heat-induced mirage. "What are you—how did you?—"
"Surprise," Chelsea said, attempting a smile that felt more like a grimace. "Why is it you don’t look happy to see me?"
"Don’t be silly, of course we’re happy…I mean, I’m happy…but…" Tess's eyes narrowed with sudden suspicion. "Did Gretchen send you?"
"No one sends me anywhere, little sister." Chelsea followed Tess inside. The air conditioning hit her like a blessing. "But yes, she's been on my front porch several times in the last two weeks. Something about Kaitlyn not answering her phone and you two harboring a runaway."
"Gretchen knows Kaitlyn is here? How is that possible?”
“Yes, our sister knows. She was ready to high-tail it down here until I stopped her. I’m not going to be able to keep her away from Key West for much longer, though. I figured it was best I come down ahead of her and find out what in the world is going on. All Kaitlyn had to do was contact her mother and I’d be home on Captiva enjoying the beach and eating Maggie Moretti’s scones.”
“It's more complicated than that," Tess said, her voice carrying an edge Chelsea hadn't heard before.
"It usually is." Chelsea sat down, taking in the eclectic decor—the mix of thrift store furniture and beach-themed accessories that somehow worked together. "Where's Leah?"
"Paradise Harbor House. She's helping with some grant applications." Tess hesitated. "And Kaitlyn's there too, volunteering."
"Paradise Harbor House? What’s that?”
“It’s a women and family shelter. They do really good work, Chelsea. You’d be proud of Kaitlyn…”
Chelsea held up her hand to stop Tess mid-sentence. “I don’t care if she’s pretending to be Mother Teresa. Get her out of there and back home where I can talk to her.” Chelsea seemed to suddenly understand the change in her niece. “Wait, did you say Kaitlyn is volunteering at a shelter?”
Tess nodded. “That’s right.”
Chelsea raised an eyebrow. "Our Instagram-obsessed niece is volunteering at a shelter?"
"People change," Tess said quietly. "Sometimes because they have to."
Before Chelsea could respond, the screen door banged open and Leah burst in, her face flushed with urgency. She stopped short at the sight of Chelsea, emotions flickering across her face too quickly to read.
"Chelsea? What are you—never mind. We have bigger problems." She turned to Tess. "The shelter's main air conditioning unit just died. In July. Elena's trying to get emergency repairs, but…"
"But it's hurricane season and every AC company is already booked solid," Tess finished, understanding dawning. "What about the fundraiser planning money?"
"We can't touch that," Leah said. "It's barely enough for the cruise deposit as it is."
Chelsea looked between her sisters, noting the way they communicated in half-sentences and shared glances. Something had shifted in their dynamic—a new purpose that hadn't been there during their failed business ventures.
"How much?" she asked.
Both sisters turned to her. "What?"
"The air conditioning repairs. How much?"
Leah named a figure that made Chelsea wince. "But it's not just about the money," she added. "We need someone who can do it immediately. The shelter has children, elderly residents—they can't wait in this heat."
Chelsea was already pulling out her phone. "Give me two minutes. I know someone who knows someone." At her sisters' surprised looks, she shrugged. "What? You think you're the only ones with Key West connections? I've been coming here for art shows for years."
Chelsea made the call, and when she hung up, Kaitlyn walked in, deep in conversation with a tall man carrying camera equipment. She stopped abruptly at the sight of her aunt, color draining from her face.
"Aunt Chelsea?"
"Surprise number two," Tess murmured.
Will, who Chelsea assumed must be Kaitlyn’s new boyfriend, spoke up. "I should go. Kaitlyn, call me later?"
Kaitlyn nodded, her eyes never leaving Chelsea. As Will left, the tension in the room thickened like storm clouds gathering.
"Did Mom send you?" Kaitlyn's voice was tight, defensive.
"Why does everyone assume I'm Gretchen's messenger?" Chelsea sighed, sinking into the sofa. "I came because something's obviously wrong, and unlike your mother, I've learned that sometimes you have to show up in person to understand the whole story. Besides, and you need to trust me on this, you do not want to see your mother right now."
The words hung in the air, heavy with unintended significance. Kaitlyn's face crumpled slightly before she caught herself.
"You want the whole story?" She pulled out her phone, fingers shaking slightly as she pulled up an Instagram page. "Here's the whole story. Meet Sarah Miller, my half-sister. The one Mom never told me about. The one she never told you or Aunt Tess or Aunt Leah about. The one she's been hiding for years."
Chelsea took the phone, her breath catching as she looked at the photo on the screen. The resemblance to Kaitlyn was unmistakable.
"That's not possible," she whispered, but even as she said it, memories began realigning themselves—Gretchen's peculiar behavior during the divorce, her insistence on handling all communication with her ex-husband, her sudden move to Captiva Island when her time in Key West fell apart.
"Oh, it's possible," Kaitlyn said bitterly. "Mom knew the whole time. She knew he had another family, knew I had a sister out there, and she just…she let me think he abandoned us for no reason.” She corrected herself. “Well, not for no reason. There was obviously another woman. I understood that, but I had no idea she’d been in the picture for years. And Mom just lived with it.”
Chelsea looked at her sisters, seeing the truth in their faces. "You knew about this?"
"Found out recently," Leah said softly. "We've been trying to figure out how to tell you, and how to deal with Gretchen. Apparently, Kaitlyn only recently found out about it through the internet."
"Because Gretchen now lives ten minutes from you on Captiva," Tess added, "we weren't sure…"
"Weren't sure if I was in on it too?" The hurt in Chelsea's voice was genuine. "I would never—" She stopped, taking a deep breath. "I would never keep something like this from any of you. But why in the world would Gretchen?"
The sound of a phone ringing cut through the tension. Leah grabbed it, relief washing over her face. "It's Elena." She listened for a moment. "Yes, he's there now? We'll be right there."
She hung up, turning to the others. "The AC repairman Chelsea called is at Paradise Harbor House. We should go back and see if Elena needs help with the families. Maybe we just take them to the beach or something until it’s repaired."
“That was fast,” Kaitlyn said.
Tess smiled. “Have you forgotten how your aunt Chelsea gets things done?”
“Well, that and apparently the guy was already next door having a beer. He didn’t have to walk far,” Leah added.
“I’ll come too," Chelsea said, standing. "I'd like to see this place that's got you all so invested." She turned to Kaitlyn. “Honey, we’ll figure this out. Why don’t you come along and show me where you volunteer. I want to see what’s more important than being an Instagram influencer.”
They all walked to Paradise Harbor House, each woman lost in her own thoughts. The large Victorian house came into view and several adults and children sat outside on the porch. Chelsea thought the place seemed cheerful and welcoming, despite the peeling paint in spots.
Elena met them at the door, her relief evident as she led them to where the repairman was already working.
"It'll take a few hours," the man said, wiping sweat from his brow, "but I can fix it. Might want to move some of your more vulnerable residents somewhere cooler in the meantime."
"They can come to our place," Tess offered immediately. "It's not huge, but the AC works."
Elena's grateful smile was interrupted by a crash from upstairs, followed by the sound of running feet. Carla appeared at the top of the stairs, her youngest child on her hip.
"Sorry!" she called down. "Dominic was trying to help pack up some toys and knocked over some books. Everything's fine!"
Chelsea turned to Leah. “I don’t know what you mean when you say your place isn’t huge. You must have meant to say that it’s the tiniest house in Key West.” She then turned to Elena. “Why don’t we all have a nice lunch over at The Pizzeria…my treat!”
Kaitlyn laughed. “Seriously, Aunt Chelsea? All of us?”
Chelsea smiled. “You bet. We can all have ice cream after and by then, I’m sure the air conditioning will be fixed.”
Elena sighed and extended her hand. “That’s very kind of you, thank you. We haven’t been formally introduced. I’m Elena Armstrong. I’m the Director of Paradise Harbor House.”
Chelsea shook Elena’s hand. “Chelsea Marsden-Thompson, but please, call me Cheslea.”
As they all walked to The Pizzeria, Chelsea's phone buzzed. Gretchen's name flashed on the screen, and for the first time in their lives, Chelsea hit 'ignore' on her sister's call.
Some revelations required space to process. Some betrayals needed time to heal. And sometimes, she was learning, the strongest thing a big sister could do was step back and let the truth find its own way forward.
Later, as they sat around the bungalow's kitchen table, fans whirring against the evening heat, Chelsea looked at her family—at Leah's determined focus as she worked on her paperwork, at Tess's quiet strength as she prepared salads, and at Kaitlyn's vulnerable courage as she showed her aunt more photos of the sister she'd never met.
"What do we do now?" Kaitlyn asked softly.
Chelsea reached across the table, taking her niece's hand. "Now? Now we figure out how to move forward. We’re going to have to try our best to listen to what your mother has to say, and why she did what she did. We’ll make no progress if we all keep talking about how angry we are. There has to be a reason your mother wouldn’t, or couldn’t, tell us the truth. You know," Chelsea said, watching Ernest strut past with his usual literary dignity, "sometimes things have to break completely before they can be fixed properly."
"Is that your artistic wisdom talking?" Tess teased, but her eyes were serious.
"No," Chelsea replied, thinking of Gretchen, of Sarah, of all the broken pieces waiting to be reassembled. "That's just life. We have no idea if Sarah and her mother want anything to do with our family. We can’t put everything on your mother. We need to get to the truth. We need to get everything out on the table. It’s the only way this family heals.”