Chapter 23
It was past eleven o’clock when Kate found her brothers in the kitchen, a bottle of bourbon between them that she recognized from Pop's hidden stash in the pantry. Tom was on his third glass, James nursing his second. They looked up guiltily when she entered.
“We were going to replace it,” James said.
“Don’t be silly. Pop’s days of drinking bourbon are over,” Kate said, getting herself a glass. “Where's Dani?”
“Went to bed an hour ago.” Tom poured for Kate. “Exhausted from actually working for once.”
“That's not fair,” Kate said, but without heat.
They sat in silence for a moment, the kitchen lit only by the light over the stove. The inn creaked around them, settling into night sounds.
“I'm getting divorced,” Tom said suddenly.
Kate and James both turned to stare at him.
“When?” James asked.
“Six months ago. Well, separated six months ago. Divorce papers were filed last week.”
“Why didn't you tell us?” Kate asked.
Tom laughed bitterly. “Because I'm the successful one. The lawyer with the perfect life in Boston. The one who made it out.”
“Tom...”
“She's keeping the condo. I've been living in a corporate apartment that smells like takeout food.” He took another drink. “The firm strongly suggested I take a sabbatical. My billable hours have been nonexistent, and I lost the Heady case because I missed a filing deadline.”
“The Heady case was two months ago,” James said. “You've been here every weekend since then.”
“Because I have nowhere else to go.” Tom's voice was raw. “I come here and pretend I'm helping, pretend I'm the big brother with answers, but I'm just hiding.”
Kate reached across the table, squeezed his hand. “Why didn't you tell me?”
“You had enough to deal with. Pop, the inn, everything falling apart. You didn't need my problems too.”
“We're family. Your problems are our problems.”
“Since when?” Tom's laugh was sharp. “We haven't been that kind of family in years. We show up for crises and holidays, then scatter.”
Before Kate could respond, James set down his glass hard.
“I hate my job,” he announced. “The acquisition was supposed to be my big exit, my success story. Instead, I'm trapped in golden handcuffs for another year, working for people who think I'm a code monkey with pretensions.”
“But you're making bank,” Tom said.
“I'm making money, yeah. But I haven't left my apartment in three weeks except to come here.
I eat cereal for dinner. I have a therapist who charges four hundred an hour to tell me I'm depressed.” James laughed, but it came out wrong.
“I'm twenty-six years old, worth two million on paper, and I've never been more miserable.”
“Goodness,” Tom muttered. “We're a mess.”
“Dani's been couch-surfing for three months,” Kate added quietly.
Both brothers looked at her.
“What?”
“She told me yesterday. That friend from New York she mentioned? That's whose couch she's been sleeping on. She's broke, guys. Has been for a while. I feel guilty she bought me that dress.”
Tom poured another round for all of them. “So none of us are exactly on top of things at the moment.”
“I haven't been on top of things for years,” Kate said. “You just didn't notice because my falling apart looked like responsibility.”
“That's not falling apart,” James said. “You held everything together.”
“While losing myself completely. I don't know who I am outside of crisis mode. Pop's gone, you guys are handling the inn crisis. I had a panic attack yesterday because I didn't have anyone to take care of.”
“Is that what Amy was talking about?” Tom asked.
Kate nodded. “Apparently it's common. Caregiver syndrome or something. You're in crisis mode so long, you don't know how to exist without it.”
They sat with that for a moment, three siblings in their childhood kitchen, admitting their failures.
“We should tell Dani,” James said. “About us being disasters.”
“She probably knows,” Tom said. “She's always been the most perceptive.”
“Or the best at hiding,” Kate countered.
The back door opened, and Ben came in, stopping short when he saw them.
“Sorry, left my phone,” he said, grabbing it from the counter. “I was worried I’d wake everyone, but it looks like you all aren’t going to bed anytime soon.”
“Have a drink,” Tom offered, surprisingly. “We're having a pity party.”
Ben looked at Kate, who nodded. He got a glass, sat beside her.
“What are we pitying?” he asked.
“Everything,” James said. “Tom's getting divorced, I'm depressed, Kate's having panic attacks, and Dani's been homeless.”
“Not homeless,” Kate corrected. “Couch-surfing.”
“Same thing with better PR,” Tom said.
Ben took a sip of bourbon. “My business is failing.”
Everyone looked at him.
“The storm damaged more than just your inn. I've got three insurance claims that won't pay out for months, if at all. I'm behind on my shop rent. This job for you guys is keeping me afloat, but barely.”
“Why didn't you say something?” Kate asked.
He shrugged, “If I had to guess, I’d say pride.”
“Pride's expensive,” Tom said, raising his glass. “To expensive pride.”
They all drank.
“What do we do now?” James asked. “We're all failures hiding in our childhood home.”
“We're not failures,” Kate said, though she wasn't sure she believed it. “We're just... lost.”
“I haven't been lost,” Tom said. “I've been lying to myself. Thinking if I worked harder, billed more hours, made partner, somehow that would fix my marriage. But Sarah was right. I chose the job over her, every time.”
“Why?” Kate asked.
“Because the job was easier. Clear metrics. Bill hours, win cases, make partner. Marriage was messy, unpredictable. I couldn't control it.”
“Control,” James said quietly. “That's the family curse, isn't it? We need to control everything.”
“I couldn't control Mom dying,” Kate said. “Couldn't control Pop's mind failing. So I controlled everything else. Every detail of the inn, every minute of Pop's schedule.”
“I tried to control my entire life trajectory,” James added. “Perfect startup exit, perfect next move, perfect everything. And now I'm perfectly miserable.”
“Where's Dani in all this?” Ben asked.
“Probably the smartest of all of us,” Tom said. “She tried things. Failed. Tried again. She's the only one who hasn't been paralyzed by the need to be perfect.”
The kitchen door opened, and Dani appeared in her pajamas.
“I heard voices,” she said, then saw the bourbon. “And you're drinking Pop's good stuff without me?”
“We're confessing our failures,” James said, pouring her a glass. “Tom's divorced, I'm depressed, Kate's panicking, Ben’s business is suffering and you've been couch-surfing.”
Dani sat down. “You all knew?”
“Kate just told us,” Tom said.
“Traitor,” Dani said without heat. She took a sip. “Well, since we're confessing, I also maxed out three credit cards and owe the IRS four thousand dollars.”
“Dani!” Kate exclaimed.
“I know. But I kept thinking the next thing would work out. The next job, the next opportunity.” She looked at her siblings. “I'm thirty-two and have nothing to show for it except debt and a very patient friend in New York.”
“You have ideas,” Kate said. “The events program is brilliant.”
“Ideas don't pay bills.”
“No,” Lillian's voice came from the doorway, making them all jump. “But execution does.”
She stood there in a robe, looking frail but alert. Kate wondered if Lillian gave up the cottage rental and planned to stay at the inn until the end. Regardless, having her join the conversation seemed inevitable.
“How long have you been listening?” Tom asked.
“Long enough.” She came in slowly, using her walking stick. “May I?”
Kate nodded, and Lillian sat carefully in Pop's usual chair.
“You're all so afraid of failure,” Lillian said. “Just like your mother was. Just like I was.”
“You?” Tom sounded skeptical.
“I failed at the most important thing: being a mother. I chose pride over love, control over connection.” She looked at each of them. “Don't make my mistakes.”
“We already are,” James said.
“No. You're young. You're together. You have this inn, each other, time to rebuild.” She accepted the glass Dani poured her. “I have a couple of months, maybe less. I'd give everything I have for your opportunities to fail and try again.”
“So what do we do?” Kate asked.
“You stay,” Lillian said simply. “All of you. Run the inn together.”
“I have a job,” Tom said weakly.
“A job you hate at a firm that wants you gone.”
“I have obligations,” James protested.
“Work remotely. You said yourself no one cares where you are.”
“I have debt,” Dani said.
“Which you can pay off with a steady income from a successful inn.”
“I have...” Kate started, then stopped. What did she have? Pop was safe. The inn was funded. Her siblings were here.
“You have a chance to rebuild,” Lillian finished for her. “To figure out who you are when you're not in crisis.”
They all sat with that, six people around a kitchen table at almost midnight, drinking bourbon and contemplating complete life changes.
“It's insane,” Tom said finally.
“It's impractical,” James added.
“It's risky,” Dani said.
“It's perfect,” Kate said quietly.
Everyone looked at her.
“We're all broken anyway. Might as well be broken together.” She raised her glass. “To expensive failure and cheap bourbon.”
“To coming home,” Tom added.
“To starting over,” James said.
“To family,” Dani said.
“To forgiveness,” Lillian said quietly.
“To fixing things,” Ben said, looking at Kate.
They drank, and Kate felt something shift. Not healing, not yet. But the possibility of it. The idea that maybe they could build something from all this wreckage.
The inn creaked around them, settling into its bones, sheltering a family trying to find their way home.