Chapter 28
Three days passed in a strange suspension, the inn operating on automatic while its inhabitants moved through their routines like sleepwalkers.
Kate found herself starting tasks and abandoning them halfway through, her mind circling back to Lillian's voice on that recording, calculating and cold as she dismantled their father's life piece by piece.
She'd replay the security footage in her head at random moments: her mother, young and desperate, begging at her mother’s door.
The morning of the third day, she stood at the front desk going through reservations without really seeing them.
They had bookings now, a direct result of the Mother's Day brunch success.
James's social media campaign had generated interest, and Dani's follow-up with guests had converted that interest into deposits.
They should have been celebrating. Instead, they moved around each other carefully, like people sharing a house with a ghost.
Tom had taken over the small office behind the kitchen, turned it into some kind of legal war room where he spent hours researching something he wouldn't discuss.
His divorce papers sat unopened on the desk, forwarded from his former firm.
He'd told Kate yesterday that Sarah wanted the divorce finalized by June, wanted to move on with her life, and he'd said it like he was discussing someone else's marriage, someone else's failure.
James had retreated into technology, building elaborate new systems for the inn that they probably didn't need. He'd installed security cameras, upgraded the Wi-Fi again, created a digital inventory system for linens that Rosa didn't understand and wouldn't use.
Kate figured it was easier to stay busy rather than talk about how Lillian's betrayal had cascaded through generations, how different all their lives might have been if she hadn't made those phone calls.
Dani was the only one who seemed to be processing it out loud, but her processing took the form of constant motion.
She'd deep-cleaned every guest room, reorganized the supply closets, created event packages for holidays they hadn't even considered hosting.
She talked while she worked, a stream of consciousness that touched on everything except what mattered.
“We could do a Fourth of July clambake,” she was saying now, having appeared beside Kate at the desk with yet another idea. “Traditional Maine style, on the beach. I've already talked to the permit office about using the public beach area, and if we partner with Charlie Brennan for the lobsters...”
“Dani.” Kate interrupted gently. “We need to talk about Lillian.”
“No, we need to plan for summer. We have eight weeks until peak season, and if we don't...”
“Dani.”
Her sister stopped, shoulders dropping. “I can't, Katie. I can't think about it. Every time I do, I see Mom crying at that door, pregnant with me, and I just... I can't.”
The front door opened, bringing in May morning air that smelled of ocean and fried clams. Ben entered, followed by a woman Kate didn't recognize.
She was small, polished in a way that suggested money and careful maintenance, with the kind of blonde hair that looked natural but probably wasn't. She stood too close to Ben, her hand touching his arm with casual intimacy.
“Kate,” Ben said, and something in his voice was different, careful. “This is Melissa.”
The ex-wife. Kate knew it before he said it, could see it in the way Melissa looked at her with assessment disguised as friendliness, the way she kept her body angled toward Ben as if marking territory.
“I've heard so much about you,” Melissa said, extending a manicured hand. “About all of you, really. Ben says you're doing wonderful things with the inn.”
Her voice was cultured, the kind of accent that came from expensive schools and careful breeding. Everything Kate wasn't.
“Thank you,” Kate managed, shaking the offered hand. Melissa's grip was firm but her skin was soft, no calluses from work, no rough patches from weather and labor.
“I'm in town for a few days,” Melissa continued, though Kate hadn't asked. “Visiting my parents in York. Thought I'd stop by and see what Ben's been working on. He always did love a good restoration project.”
The way she said it made it sound like the inn was a hobby, something quaint Ben was playing with. Kate felt her spine straighten, that defensive anger that had been simmering since Lillian's confession finding a new target.
“It's more than a restoration,” Kate said coolly. “It's a business. A home.”
“Of course.” Melissa's smile didn't waver. “Ben always was sentimental about old buildings. It's one of the things I loved about him.”
Loved. Past tense. But she was standing too close for past tense, looking at him with eyes that suggested present possibility.
“I should get back to work,” Ben said, clearly uncomfortable. “Just wanted to introduce you two.”
Why? Kate wondered. Why did she need to be introduced to his ex-wife? Unless Melissa had insisted, unless this was some kind of reconnaissance mission.
After they left, Dani appeared at Kate's elbow. “She's pretty.”
“I didn't notice.”
“Liar. She's exactly the kind of pretty that makes the rest of us feel like we're wearing our brother's hand-me-downs.”
Kate looked down at herself. She was, in fact, wearing one of Tom's old flannel shirts over her T-shirt, the sleeves rolled up because they were too long. Her jeans had paint stains from touching up the dining room baseboards. Now that her hair was a little longer, she’d put it in her usual ponytail, functional but hardly flattering.
“It doesn't matter what she looks like,” Kate said.
“It does if she wants him back.”
“That's Ben's business.”
“Is it?” Dani studied her sister. “Because you've been in love with him for months and doing nothing about it, and now his ex-wife shows up looking like a Vineyard Vines catalog and you're going to pretend it doesn't matter?”
“I'm not in love with him.”
Dani's laugh was sharp. “Katie, you watch for his truck every morning. You know his coffee order, his favorite sandwich, the way he likes his eggs. You light up when he enters a room and deflate when he leaves. That's love, even if you're too scared to call it that.”
Before Kate could argue, Tom emerged from his office cave, looking grimmer than usual.
“Family meeting,” he announced. “Now.”
They gathered in the dining room, the four siblings around the table where three days ago their world had tilted off its axis. Tom had a legal pad covered in his precise handwriting, pages of notes that looked like evidence for a trial.
“I've been researching,” he began. “Looking into the timeline of Pop's business failure, Mom's illness, everything.”
“Why torture yourself?” James asked.
“Because I needed to understand the scope of what Lillian did.” Tom flipped through his notes.
“Pop's business didn't just fail. It was systematically destroyed.
I found records of the loans that were denied, the contracts that were mysteriously canceled.
But here's what's interesting: Lillian didn't just make a few phone calls.
She spent money, significant money, to make sure he couldn't recover.”
“What do you mean?” Kate asked.
“She paid off two of his competitors to undercut his bids. She hired someone to spread rumors about his reliability. She even bought one of the properties he was planning to develop, just to prevent him from getting it.”
The room was silent, absorbing this new level of cruelty.
“It would have cost her hundreds of thousands,” Tom continued. “Maybe more. She spent a fortune to destroy him.”
“Why?” Dani whispered. “Why go to those lengths?”
“Control,” Tom said simply. “She couldn't control Mom, so she tried to control the situation. Force her back through financial pressure.”
“But Mom didn't go back,” James said slowly. “Even when things got desperate, she stayed.”
“And it probably killed her,” Tom said bluntly. “The stress, the overwork, trying to keep the inn afloat while Pop's business failed. The cancer might have happened anyway, but the stress couldn't have helped.”
Kate thought about their mother, working eighteen-hour days, hiding bills from Pop, pretending everything was fine while their world crumbled. All because Lillian couldn't accept her daughter's choice.
“Wait!” Kate said, suddenly questioning Tom’s research. “How are you able to see all of this information?”
“Katie, you’d be surprised at what you can find online.
Besides, there’s someone in town who seems to know everything that happened back then.
Apparently, before Mom, Dad dated a women named Margaret Albertson.
She lives in Falmouth, Maine. She seemed to know Lillian quite well, and although she wasn’t able to prove it, she told me she’d talked to a few people who were familiar with Lillian’s cruelty.
I guess some had experienced Lillian Whitfield personally. ”
Kate shook her head. “The whole thing is disgusting.”
Tom continued, “Some of it is ancient history that I’ve pieced together. As far as the rumors she helped spread, it explains why so many people in this town know what she did.”
“It was so long ago, though,” Katie said. “I can see some of the older folks in town remembering all of this, but some of the attitudes I’ve felt have been from people closer to my age.”
“That doesn’t surprise me, especially for small town gossip. Some stories never die,” James added.
“She has to go,” Tom said. “I don't care if she's dying. Just because she feels the need to share her deathbed confession, it’s not fair to any of us to relive her cruelty. She can't be part of our lives.”
“She's paying for everything,” James pointed out. “The renovations, Pop's care, our operating expenses. We’re inheriting two million dollars when she dies.”
“Blood money.”