Chapter 18
The next morning, Kate stood in front of Coastal Pharmacy's small selection of makeup, feeling ridiculous.
She'd come in for Pop's medications but found herself lingering in the cosmetics aisle like a teenager.
The fluorescent lights made everything look harsh and unforgiving, and she couldn't remember if she was warm-toned or cool-toned or what the difference even was.
She picked up a lipstick, coral-colored, nothing dramatic. Fourteen dollars. Kate set it back immediately. She couldn't justify fourteen dollars for something so frivolous.
“Katie Perkins, is that you?”
Kate turned to find Mrs. Gilbert, the pharmacist, smiling at her with curiosity.
“Just picking up Pop's prescriptions,” Kate said, stepping away from the display.
“They're not ready yet. Twenty minutes.” Mrs. Gilbert's eyes went to the makeup display, then back to Kate. “Looking for anything special?”
“Just killing time.”
Mrs. Gilbert moved past her to straighten the display. “You know, I remember when you used to come in here every week for that cherry lip gloss. Senior year, wasn't it?”
“That was a long time ago, seventeen years to be exact.”
“Seventeen years isn't so long. You were quite something back then. All the boys noticed when Katie Perkins walked by.”
Kate almost laughed. “That was a different person.”
“Was it?” Mrs. Gilbert adjusted her glasses. “Or is she still in there somewhere?”
Kate mumbled something about checking on the prescriptions and escaped to the other side of the store.
She wandered the aisles, looking at bandages and vitamins and things she didn't need.
But she kept thinking about that coral lipstick.
It was a pretty color, subtle, the kind of thing she might have worn before.
Before. Her life seemed divided into before and after. Before Mom got sick. Before Pop's mind started failing. Before she became the person who stayed, who handled everything, who didn't have time for fourteen-dollar lipstick.
She found herself back at the cosmetics display. The coral lipstick was still there, waiting. Kate picked it up again, twisted the bottom to see the color. It was nice. Pretty without trying too hard. The kind of thing that might make her look less tired, less worn down by responsibility.
She put it back and walked to the pharmacy counter to wait for Pop's medications.
“Prescriptions are ready,” Mrs. Gilbert called.
Kate paid for Pop's medications, three different bottles that would hopefully slow his decline but couldn't stop it. Two hundred dollars even with insurance. She counted out the bills carefully.
She was halfway to the door when she heard her mother's voice in her head, clear as day: “Life's too short to deny yourself small pleasures, Katie.”
Her mother, who'd given up wealth for love, who'd made the inn beautiful on a shoestring budget, who'd worn the same rose perfume every day because it made her feel pretty.
Kate turned around and walked back to the cosmetics aisle. Before she could overthink it, she grabbed the coral lipstick and returned to the counter.
“Changed your mind?” Mrs. Gilbert asked, smiling.
“Something like that.”
Mrs. Gilbert rang it up, put it in a small separate bag. “Good for you. I think this color is perfect for you.”
Kate sat in her truck in the parking lot, staring at the little tube. Fourteen dollars she couldn't really spare for something she'd probably be too self-conscious to wear. But she'd bought it. For herself. For no practical reason at all, instead just to feel pretty.
The guilt hit immediately, but she pushed it down. It was done. She'd made one impractical decision in five years of practical ones. The world wouldn't end because of one lipstick.
She looked in the rearview mirror and uncapped the lipstick. Angling the mirror, she brushed the color on in two quick passes. Bottom lip, top lip. She blotted with the back of her hand, surprised it didn’t look ridiculous.
When she got back to the inn, she found organized chaos. Tom was in the lobby looking over blueprints and then pointing at walls and ceilings, mumbling something about load-bearing structures and electrical capacity.
James had transformed the dining room into some kind of command center. Multiple laptops, a printer, two monitors, and a whiteboard covered in color-coded renovation schedules. He was on a video call with someone, discussing networking infrastructure and bandwidth requirements.
Dani was there too, fabric samples draped over every chair, paint chips arranged in careful gradients on the table. She was on her phone, negotiating with someone about wholesale pricing for linens.
“Katie!” Tom called when he saw her. “Perfect timing. We need you to weigh in on the electrical upgrade. Full rewiring or just the critical areas?”
“And the networking infrastructure,” James added, muting his call. “If we're going to compete with modern hotels, we need fiber optics throughout.”
“Where's Amy?” she asked instead of answering any of them.
Tom's expression shifted from business to concern. “Pop had a difficult morning. She took him for a drive to calm him down.”
“Define difficult.”
Tom exchanged glances with James. “He packed again. Three suitcases this time. Said he needed to get home to Elizabeth, that she was waiting for him. When Amy tried to redirect him, he got agitated. Tried to walk to town in his slippers before she caught him.”
Kate's stomach clenched. The packing was becoming a daily occurrence now, along with the conviction that Elizabeth was alive and waiting somewhere.
“He didn't recognize Dani this morning either,” James added quietly. “Called her Elizabeth and got upset when she said she wasn't.”
“We need to talk about next steps,” Tom said in his lawyer voice, the one he used for difficult conversations. “Amy's wonderful, but she's one person. She can't watch him twenty-four hours a day for the rest of his life. Pop might need...”
“Don't say it.”
“… a memory care facility.” Tom finished anyway. “Somewhere with round-the-clock staff, secure doors, specialists who know how to handle dementia-related aggression.”
“He's not aggressive. He's confused.”
“Katie, he pushed Amy yesterday. Not hard, but still.”
“No.” Kate's voice was sharp. “He stays here. This is his home.”
“For how long?” Dani asked gently. “Until he hurts himself? Or someone else? Or wanders off and we can't find him?”
“We'll hire more help. Use Lillian's money.”
“It's not just about money,” Tom said. “It's about what's best for Pop. What Mom would want for him.”
Kate escaped to the kitchen, where Marcy was making soup. The familiar smell of chicken stock and vegetables grounded her slightly. Marcy took one look at her face and poured coffee without speaking.
“They want to put Pop in a home,” Kate said after the first sip.
“They want him safe,” Marcy corrected, sitting down across from her.
“Is there a difference?”
Marcy was quiet for a moment, stirring her coffee. “I know it’s a difficult thing to think about, but maybe it’s time. Love sometimes means accepting our limitations.”
The back door opened and Ben came in, carrying his toolbox. He nodded at Marcy, then focused on Kate.
“Tom said Pop had a rough morning.”
“He's okay. Amy took him for a drive.”
Ben studied her face, and she saw his eyes flicker to her mouth for just a second before meeting hers again.
He'd noticed the lipstick. She knew he'd noticed.
But he didn't say anything, didn't comment on the change, and somehow that made her like him even more.
He saw but didn't need to point it out, didn't need to make her self-conscious about this tiny attempt at being something more than practical.
He started to leave, then turned back. “I'm working on the Room 5 ceiling if you need anything.”
After he left, Marcy chuckled. “That man notices everything about you.”
“He's just observant.”
“Uh-huh. Observant about you specifically. Maybe you should wear that lipstick more often.”
Kate's hand went automatically to her pocket. “Is it too much?”
“Honey, it looks lovely.”
Kate pulled out the lipstick, looked at it again. Such a small thing to feel so momentous.
“Fourteen dollars,” she said. “For lipstick.”
“Your mother spent twenty on her rose perfume every month, even when money was tight.” Marcy smiled at the memory. “Said it made her feel like herself. Some things are worth more than their price.”
Amy's car pulled up outside. Through the window, Kate could see Pop in the passenger seat, looking calmer but still confused. Amy was talking to him patiently, her face kind.
They all went out to help. Pop got out of the car slowly, looking at the inn like he was seeing it for the first time.
“This is my house,” he said, looking at Amy.
“Yes, Daniel. This is home.”
He studied the building, then his children gathered on the porch. His gaze stopped on Kate, and something shifted in his expression.
“I know you,” he said, but it sounded uncertain. “You're... you're...”
“I'm Katie, Pop. Your daughter.”
“Katie.” He tested the name, then frowned. “No. Katie’s in New York.”
The words hit her hard.
Amy guided him inside, but Kate remained on the porch, Pop's words bringing tears to her eyes.
That evening, after Pop was settled, Kate found herself alone in her room. She pulled out the lipstick again, opened it, twisted up the coral color. Her mother had taught her how to apply lipstick before her first high school dance, both of them laughing in this same mirror.
The color was subtle but immediately made her look more alive, less exhausted. She stared at her reflection, this small change that somehow made her look more like the Katie she used to be.
A knock at her door. “Kate?” Ben's voice. “You've got a phone call downstairs. It’s Lillian.”
She opened the door, forgetting about the lipstick. Ben's eyes went to her mouth, lingered for a heartbeat, then met hers. Still he said nothing about it, but something warm flickered in his expression. The fact that he noticed but didn't comment, didn't make it a big deal, made her relax.
“Thanks,” she said. “I'll be right down.”
He nodded, started to turn, then stopped. “Kate?”
“Yeah?”
“Have dinner with me tomorrow. A real date. Not friends, not casual. A date.”
The invitation hung between them in the dim hallway. Kate thought about Pop calling her someone who'd given up, about Lillian dying, about the lipstick that had cost fourteen dollars she couldn't spare.
“Okay,” she heard herself say.
Ben's smile was slow and genuine. “Seven o'clock. I'll pick you up.”
He left before she could change her mind, and Kate stood in her doorway, wearing coral lipstick and feeling like, maybe, she hadn't given up after all.
She went downstairs to take Lillian's call, but her mind kept circling back to Ben noticing but not mentioning the lipstick, to the warmth in his eyes, to tomorrow night and the terrifying possibility of wanting something for herself.
The lipstick had been the first step. Tomorrow would be the second.
She just had to be brave enough to take it.