Chapter 12
She threw on yesterday's jeans and a sweater that had seen better days, not bothering with the mirror. The laughter grew louder as she descended the narrow back stairs, their familiar creaks masked by the voices echoing from the kitchen.
“… and then the whole system crashed,” James was saying as she reached the doorway. “Three million dollars in trades, just frozen.”
Ben's laugh rumbled warm and deep. “That's why I stick to wood and nails. They don't crash.”
Kate stopped short. Ben sat in Pop's usual chair—the one with the burn mark from when James had tried to make pancakes at age ten.
His work jacket hung on the back like he lived here.
Tom leaned toward him, pointing at something on James's laptop screen, all three of their heads bent together like old friends planning mischief.
“The algorithm should have caught it,” Tom said, reaching across Ben to tap the screen. “See? Right there.”
“Unless someone coded the exception wrong,” Ben offered, and James groaned.
“Don't remind me. That was my code.”
Dani perched on the counter, legs swinging, her coffee mug, the one she'd painted in third grade, dangling from her fingers. She spotted Kate first.
“Morning, Katie.”
Kate moved to the coffee pot, her back to them. The conversation continued behind her, but the easy flow had stuttered.
“Ben, you're here early.” Her voice came out sharper than intended.
“Wanted to get started before the rain comes in.” She heard his chair shift, probably turning to look at her. “Your brothers were asking about the renovation timeline.”
Tom jumped in quickly. “We were thinking we could help. I could handle the permit applications, and James…”
“I can update the inn's website,” James interrupted. “Ben was just showing us what needs to be done first.”
Kate turned, gripping her mug, the chipped one nobody else used.
They'd rearranged themselves, she noticed.
Tom had straightened in his chair, his lawyer posture sliding into place.
James's eager expression had dimmed slightly.
Ben had pulled back from the table just an inch or two, creating distance.
“Since when do lawyers and tech executives do manual labor?”
“Since…” James started, then stopped, glancing at Tom.
“Since we realized we should be more involved,” Tom finished smoothly, but again his thumb rubbed where his wedding ring used to be.
Kate looked at the scene around her. Ben's mug sat exactly where Pop always put his, to the right of the napkin holder. Tom had his legal pad out, already covered in notes in his precise handwriting. James had two phones on the table, both face down, both vibrating with messages he was ignoring.
“We saved you a pancake,” Dani said, sliding off the counter. She grabbed a plate from the stovetop, Marcy's blueberry pancakes, Pop's recipe. “Ben helped make them. Turns out he knows Pop's secret ingredient.”
“Everyone knows it's nutmeg,” Kate said.
“Not everyone,” Ben said quietly. “Just people who pay attention.”
Their eyes met across the kitchen. He'd been paying attention to their family recipes, their rhythms, their stories. Three weeks of working on the inn, and he'd absorbed more than just the structural problems.
Tom cleared his throat. “So about those permits…”
“I can handle the permits,” Kate said.
“But I have experience with historical building regulations,” Tom insisted, tapping his legal pad. “Just last year I worked on a case involving…”
“A case in Boston. This is Maine.”
“Regulations are regulations.”
James stood abruptly, grabbing his coffee. “Ben, want to show me that roof section?” He was already moving toward the door, eager to escape the rising tension.
Ben glanced at Kate, a question in his eyes. She looked away.
“Sure,” he said, pushing back from the table. “Tom, you're welcome to join us if you want.”
“I'll review the paperwork,” Tom said stiffly.
After they left, Dani started washing dishes with unnecessary force. “What was that? You could try being nicer.”
“I could try a lot of things.”
Tom gathered his papers, his movements sharp and efficient. “We're trying to help, Katie.”
“By taking over? By making friends with my…” She stopped.
“Your what?” Dani turned from the sink, eyebrows raised. “Your contractor? Your boyfriend?”
“He's not my anything.”
Tom snorted. “Right. That's why you practically froze him out for sitting in Pop's chair.”
“That's not…”
“It's exactly what you did.” Tom stood, his lawyer voice clicking into place. “You walk in, see us all getting along, and immediately go into defense mode. Classic Kate.”
“Classic Kate?”
“Push everyone away before they get too close. It's what you do.”
“I do not.”
“You're doing it right now.” He picked up his laptop, his phone, which buzzed immediately with what looked like dozens of messages.
His face tightened as he glanced at the screen, then quickly darkened it.
“I'm going to work in the office. Let me know when you're ready to discuss the permits like adults.”
After he left, Dani dried her hands slowly. “He's not wrong.”
“Whose side are you on?”
“There aren't sides. We're family.” Dani refilled her coffee, adding three sugars, stirring slowly. “You know, Ben asked about you this morning. Before you came down.”
“So?”
“Asked if you were an early riser. If you liked blueberry pancakes. If that chipped mug was yours specifically.” Dani set down her spoon with a deliberate click. “He's trying to learn you, Katie. And you're making it as hard as possible.”
Through the window, Kate could see Ben and James talking. Ben was demonstrating something with a hammer, his movements patient and precise. James was nodding eagerly, trying to copy the motion. They looked comfortable together, easy, like Ben fit into their family puzzle without forcing any pieces.
Dani laughed, but it wasn't cruel. “Katie, you're like the inn in winter. All the warmth is inside, but you board up the windows so no one can see in.”
Before Kate could respond, they heard Pop's voice from upstairs. “Elizabeth? Where's Elizabeth?”
Both sisters moved at once, but Dani put a hand on Kate's arm. “Amy's got him. That's what she's here for.”
“But…”
“Let her do her job. Like you need to let Tom help with permits. Let James help with the website. Let Ben…” she paused meaningfully, “… let Ben be whatever he's trying to be.”
Kate pulled away. “You don't understand.”
“Then explain it.”
But how could she explain that every offer of help felt like an admission of failure? That Ben sitting in Pop's chair felt like a future she couldn't imagine? That her brothers' sudden presence felt like invasion and comfort simultaneously?
“I need to check on Pop,” she said instead.
“Katie,” Dani said, reaching for her sister.
But Kate was already heading up the stairs, toward Pop's voice, toward a problem she knew how to handle.
Behind her, she heard Dani sigh, heard the kitchen settle back into morning quiet, heard the steady rhythm of hammering from the roof where Ben worked, fixing things that could be fixed, unlike everything else that was broken in their lives.
Later, as she watched Ben drive away through the rain-blurred window, his taillights disappearing into the gray morning, a sadness she couldn’t explain, enveloped her.
Inside, the inn felt too warm, too close.
Her siblings had gathered in the sunroom, a tableau of concern and frustration.
Pop dozed in his chair, his face finally peaceful in sleep, the morning's agitation erased by exhaustion or medication or both.
Amy sat nearby, her knitting needles clicking in a rhythm that seemed to count off the seconds of their failing life.
The rain continued throughout the afternoon, turning the world outside into an impressionist painting, all blurred edges and uncertain boundaries. Kate stood at the window, watching it erase the clear lines of the harbor, the distinction between sea and sky, the certainty of solid ground.
Her phone sat heavy in her pocket, Ben's text about her mother's chairs unanswered.
Those chairs he'd saved without being asked, restored without expecting thanks, would soon return to the inn transformed but essentially themselves.
She wondered if people could manage the same trick, change but remain the same, become new but stay true to who they are.
Pop stirred in his sleep, murmuring Elizabeth's name. Amy's needles never paused their clicking. Her siblings' voices rose and fell in conversation she wasn't part of. And Kate stood at the window, caught between the warm, too-full inn and the cold, rain-soaked world, belonging fully to neither.