Chapter 11
Ben cleared his throat. “I actually just came to drop off the work schedule for next week. I'll leave you all to catch up.” He set a folder on the counter. “Kate, I'll pick you up at seven?”
She nodded, not trusting herself to speak.
“He seems nervous,” Tom observed.
“Anyone would be nervous with all eyes on them,” Kate snapped.
“I don’t want you to get hurt.”
“Since when?” Kate shot back. “You haven't been protective in years. You've been absent.”
“That's not fair.”
“Nothing about this is fair,” Kate said. “You two swoop in now that the crisis is over, acting like concerned brothers when I needed you years ago.”
“We had lives,” Tom said defensively.
“So did I. Or I would have, if I hadn't given it up to take care of Pop and the inn.”
“No one asked you to.” Tom started.
“Someone had to!” Kate's voice cracked. “Someone had to stay. And now you want to judge my choices?”
“We're trying to help,” James said quietly.
“I don't need help. I needed it years ago. Now I just need everyone to stop acting like they know what's best for me.”
She stormed out, going to her room and slamming the door like she was sixteen again.
A few minutes later there was a knock at her door. “Katie?” James's voice. “Can I come in?”
He entered without waiting, sitting on her bed like he used to when they were kids and he was scared of thunderstorms.
“I'm sorry,” he said. “You're right. We weren't here when you needed us.”
“It's fine.”
“It's not. I was in my twenties when Pop started to show signs. I could have come home. I chose not to.” He picked at her bedspread. “I was scared, I think. Of seeing him decline. Of being trapped here like…”
“Like me.”
“I didn't mean…”
“Yes, you did. And you were right to be scared. It's terrifying watching him disappear little by little. It's exhausting being responsible for everything. It's lonely and hard and some days I wanted to run away too.”
“But you didn't.”
“No. I didn't.” Kate sat beside him. “Someone had to stay.”
“It shouldn't have been just you.” James bumped her shoulder. “For what it's worth, I'm here now. And I actually like Ben.”
“You interrogated him.”
“That's what brothers do. But he didn't run, so points for that.” James paused. “Tom's being weird about Lillian.”
“Tom's being a lawyer about Lillian.”
“He remembers more than I do.”
James looked at Kate. “Do you trust her? Lillian?”
“No. But I trust that she's dying and wants to fix things. That has to count for something.”
“Tom thinks she's manipulating us.”
“She probably is. But Pop needs care, the inn needs repairs, and her money makes that possible. Sometimes you take help from imperfect people because the alternative is worse.”
“What about Ben?”
Kate shoved him. “We’re two friends having dinner.”
“Right. That's why you look terrified.”
“I'm not terrified.”
“Katie, you're my sister. I know your faces. And that's your terrified face.”
Kate flopped back on the bed. “I don't know how to date. I don't know how to want things for myself. I've been the responsible one for so long, I don't know how to be anything else.”
“Maybe you don't have to stop being responsible. Maybe you just add other things to it.”
“Like what?”
“Like dinner with a nice guy who clearly thinks you're amazing.”
He doesn't know me, Kate thought but didn't say. He thinks he does after three weeks working on our roof, and because we graduated high school the same year. He doesn't know what it's like to lose yourself in other people's needs, to forget who you are beneath the responsibilities.
That evening, after fielding more questions from Tom, avoiding Lillian's suggestions about the dining room, and helping Amy settle Pop for the night, Kate stood in front of her closet in the navy dress Dani had insisted on.
She looked like she was trying too hard. Or not hard enough. She couldn't tell anymore.
When Ben arrived at seven, he had to run the gauntlet again. Tom and James were in the lobby, flanking the door like sentries. Lillian was there too, observing with those sharp eyes.
“Have her home by eleven,” Tom said.
“Be safe,” James added with a grin that made Kate's face burn.
Blushing, Kate moved to the door, wanting more than ever to escape the pressure of her family’s opinions.
Tom turned to Kate and whispered. “Be careful with him.” He nodded toward Ben. “You're vulnerable right now.”
“I'm not vulnerable. I'm tired. There's a difference.”
Outside, Ben opened his truck door for her. “Your family is...”
“A disaster?”
“I was going to say protective.” He started the engine.
“Yes, but do they all have to have an opinion about my life? They’re too protective, that's the problem.” Kate stared out the window as they drove through town. “Everyone has opinions about what I should do, who I should be, how I should feel.”
“What do you want?”
To be left alone, she thought. To not need anyone. To stop feeling like I'm failing at everything.
“I don't know,” she said instead.
They drove in silence toward whatever Ben had planned, and Kate wondered if she'd ever know what she wanted, or if she'd spent so long being what everyone else needed that she'd lost herself completely.
The inn grew smaller in the side mirror, but Kate could still feel its pull, Pop and Amy, her brothers and their protection, Dani and her hopes, Lillian and her money, the weight of all those needs and expectations.
For one evening, she wanted to pretend she was just Kate. Not the responsible daughter, not the struggling innkeeper, not the woman everyone wanted to save.
Just Kate, having dinner with a man who thought he knew her but didn't.
Ben drove them out of town, past the tourist areas and summer homes, to a small restaurant in Cape Porpoise that Kate had never been to. It was the kind of place locals kept secret: weathered shingles, no sign, just soft light spilling from windows onto the empty March street.
“I’ve driven by this place but never went in. I assume you’ve been here before?” Kate asked as they parked.
“My grandfather brought me here for the first time when I was sixteen. Said every man should know at least one place where the food was honest. He loved this place because even though people knew him, they never bothered him while he was eating or clearly wanted to be left alone.” He came around to open her door.
“Figured you could use a break from people bothering you.”
Kate wanted to be irritated by his presumption, but he was right. She was tired of being watched, analyzed, helped.
Inside, the restaurant was small and warm, maybe ten tables total. A fireplace crackled in the corner. The hostess, an older woman with silver hair, recognized Ben immediately.
“Benjamin! It's been too long.” She looked at Kate with interest. “And you've brought a friend.”
“This is Kate. Kate, this is Mrs. Fletcher. She owns the place.”
“Whaler’s Landing Kate?” Mrs. Fletcher asked. “I knew your mother.”
Of course she did. Everyone knew everyone in these small towns. Kate forced a smile.
They were seated in a corner booth, away from the few other diners. Ben ordered wine without asking what she wanted, another presumption, but it turned out to be exactly what she would have chosen.
“Lucky guess?” she asked, taking a sip.
“I've seen you drink wine at the inn. You always choose red, usually something dry.” He shrugged. “I pay attention.”
Too much attention, Kate thought. You've known me three weeks and you think these little observations mean something.
“So,” Ben said, settling back, “tell me something about you that isn't connected to the inn or your family.”
Kate blanked. When was the last time anyone had asked about just her? “I don't... There isn't much else.”
“There has to be. What did you want to be when you were a kid?”
“Before everything happened? I wanted to be a marine biologist.”
“Why didn't you pursue it?”
“You know why. Pop got sick, the inn needed me.”
“Before that. You would have been, what, twenty-eight when he started to show signs?”
Kate took another sip of wine, buying time. “I didn’t go directly to get my master’s after college.”
“You didn’t follow your dream?”
“I thought I’d be selfish to do that. Everything costs money… money we didn’t have.” The words came out harsher than intended.
“Maybe you should have continued with school.”
Kate looked at him sharply. “You don't understand. Family comes first.”
“Does it? Or is that just what you tell yourself to justify giving up what you wanted?”
The accusation stung because it felt true. “You don't know me well enough to psychoanalyze me, Ben.”
“You're right. I don't.” Ben leaned forward. “So tell me. Help me know you.”
“Why do you care so much?”
“Because you interest me. Because you're strong and stubborn, and beautiful.”
“Stop saying that.”
“Which part?”
“Beautiful. I'm not... That's Dani. I’m the practical one.”
“You're both. You're practical and beautiful. Strong and scared. Stubborn and kind.” He smiled slightly. “You contain multitudes.”
“You're quoting Whitman at me?”
“My grandfather was a reader. Spent winter evenings making me read poetry while we worked on furniture.” He paused. “That's something about me that isn't work. I read poetry.”
Despite herself, Kate was intrigued. “What else?”
“I can't sleep without the sound of the ocean. I make terrible coffee but excellent pancakes. I'm allergic to cats but I feed three strays behind my workshop.” He grinned. “I've been half in love with you since you told me to stop looking at you like a wounded bird.”
Kate's chest tightened. “You can't be in love with someone you don't know.”
“Then let me know you.”
“I don't think I know myself anymore.”
The admission slipped out before she could stop it. Mrs. Fletcher appeared with their food, lobster for him, scallops for her, saving Kate from having to elaborate.
They ate in silence for a few minutes before Ben tried again.
“What makes you happy? Not content or satisfied, but genuinely happy?”