Chapter 6 #2
The weight of the decision settled over them. Tom called Lillian first and then her attorney. James made lists of what repairs were most urgent. Dani gently took the Danish from Pop's hand before he dropped it.
Kate stepped outside, needing air. Ben climbed down from the roof, his face red from cold and exertion.
“How's it going up there?” she asked.
“Good. Structure's more solid than I thought. Your mom built well.”
“My mom?”
“The addition. I found her initials carved into one of the beams. E.P. and the date—1989.”
Elizabeth Perkins, a young mother, building an addition to the inn she loved. Another secret, another piece of history Kate hadn't known.
“You okay?” Ben asked, studying her face.
“We're taking the money. My grandmother's money.”
“That's good, right?”
“I don't know. It feels like...” She struggled for words. “Like surrendering.”
“Or like accepting help.” He pulled off his work gloves, stepped closer. “Kate, I've watched you these past few days. You're the strongest person I know. But even strong people need help sometimes.”
“I'm not strong. I'm just stubborn.”
“Maybe they're the same thing.” He smiled, and something in her chest loosened. “Want to help me with the measurements? I could use another pair of hands.”
It was an excuse, she knew. The measurements were a one-person job. But she nodded anyway, grateful for the distraction, for the simplicity of work that had clear outcomes.
They spent the next two hours on the roof, Ben teaching her how to read the lumber for weakness, how to spot where water traveled, how to build something that would last. His hands guided hers on the measuring tape, steady and warm despite the cold.
When he smiled at her over a perfectly cut board, she felt something she hadn't felt in years: hope. She recognized Ben’s actions as kindness but felt something deeper she couldn’t explain.
“Kate!” Dani called from below. “Lillian's lawyer is here!”
Reality crashed back. Kate climbed down, her legs shaky from more than the height. Inside, the dining room had become a signing ceremony. Documents were spread across the table, multiple copies of everything.
The lawyer, a thin man who looked like he'd rather be anywhere else, walked them through each document. Initial here, sign there, date this. With each signature, Kate felt like she was signing away her independence, her right to struggle, her claim to have done it all herself.
But then she looked at Pop, awake now and confused, asking Dani who all these people were. She thought of him getting real care, professional help, the dignity of staying in his own home.
She signed.
When it was done, when the lawyer left with his briefcase full of executed documents, the siblings sat in exhausted silence.
“What now?” James asked.
“Now we start fixing things,” Tom said.
“The roof first,” Kate said. “Then the heating system. Then…”
“Kate,” Dani interrupted. “The nurse starts tomorrow.”
“What?”
“Lillian had everything arranged already, pending our signatures. A visiting nurse, trained in dementia care. She starts tomorrow morning.”
Kate wanted to protest, to say it was too fast, she wasn't ready. But Pop was in the kitchen, trying to make tea, putting the kettle in the refrigerator instead of on the stove.
“Okay,” she said quietly. “Tomorrow.”
That evening, after her siblings had left, Tom back to Boston, James to a hotel in town, Dani to her room at the Harbor Hotel, Kate sat with Pop in the sunroom. The sun was setting over the harbor, painting everything gold.
“Good day?” Pop asked.
“Complicated day.”
“Those are sometimes the same thing.” He patted her hand with his papery one. “You're a good girl, Katie. Your mother would be proud.”
Kate wanted to tell him everything, about Lillian, about the money, about the nurse coming tomorrow. But he looked so peaceful, so content in this moment, that she just squeezed his hand and said, “Thanks, Pop.”
Later, alone in her room, she pulled out her mother's letters again. In the last one, there was a line she'd missed the first time:
I've named her Katherine, after your mother. Maybe someday that will mean something to you. Maybe someday she'll bridge the gap I couldn't.
Kate folded the letter carefully and put them in her nightstand. Outside, she could hear Ben's truck pulling away, he'd worked until dark, determined to seal the roof before the next storm.
Tomorrow, everything would change. A nurse would come. Repairs would begin in earnest. Lillian would become part of their lives. The inn would be saved, but it would no longer be purely theirs.
Kate lay in bed, staring at the ceiling, wondering if her mother would approve. If Elizabeth would see this as reconciliation or capitulation. If bridging the gap was worth the cost of pride.
Somewhere in the house, Pop wandered. She could hear his footsteps, searching for something or someone who existed only in memory. Tomorrow, there would be someone else to guide him back to bed, someone trained and capable and professional.
Tonight was the last night it would be just them, Kate and Pop and the failing inn, held together by stubbornness and love and not much else.
She should have felt relieved. Instead, she felt like she was mourning something she couldn't quite name.