Chapter 31 #2
As evening came on and the last guests lingered over dessert, the air softened into that golden hour that photographers loved.
The harbor shimmered. The scent of roses drifted from the garden.
Kate slipped away for a moment, following the familiar path between beds of blooms her mother had planted years earlier.
The roses had survived neglect and storms and everything else life had thrown at them. They leaned into the light now, heavy with blossoms, as if this season had been worth the wait.
“Your mother would have loved this,” Ben said, joining her.
“The party?” she asked.
“All of it,” he said. “The inn full, the family together, the success you’ve built from ruins.”
“We built,” she corrected automatically. “All of us.”
“Led by you.”
Before she could deflect the compliment, Tom called from above. “Sunset is starting! Fireworks in an hour!”
The widow’s walk could safely hold about twenty people, so they’d created a lottery system for guests. Those who didn’t win got prime viewing spots on the lawn, but everyone wanted the elevation, the wide view of harbor, town and ocean.
Kate climbed the narrow stairs, remembering all the times she’d come up here as a child, when Pop would point out the boats, teaching her to identify them by their silhouettes.
Now she pointed out landmarks to guests, sharing stories her father had told her, creating the kind of personal connection that would bring people back.
As darkness fell and the fireworks began, Kate found herself pressed against the railing between Ben and Dani, James and Tom behind them, guests all around. The fireworks reflected in the harbor, doubling their beauty, while the crowd below oohed and aahed with sincere appreciation.
“We did it,” Dani said quietly, just to the siblings. “We actually saved it.”
“We are saving it,” Tom corrected. “Present tense. It’s ongoing.”
“Always the lawyer,” James teased, but his arm went around Tom’s shoulders, a gesture of affection that would not have happened in March.
The grand finale lit up the sky in red, white, and blue, explosions that made the old inn shake slightly.
Kate felt Ben’s hand find hers in the darkness, a quiet claim she didn’t pull away from.
Around them, guests cheered and applauded, full of lobster and wine and the satisfaction of a perfect holiday.
Later, after the guests had retired, after the chairs were stacked and the trash bagged and the lawn returned to something like normal, the siblings sat in the kitchen sharing a bottle of wine Tom had saved.
They were exhausted but exhilarated, the kind of tired that came from succeeding at something difficult.
“The reporter said the segment will air tomorrow,” Dani reported, scrolling through her phone. “We already have seventeen inquiries about fall bookings.”
“Fall is going to be beautiful,” James said. “We should do something for the long weekend in October.”
“That would be great,” Dani said. “We could do a harvest dinner, and partner with local farms.”
“I’ve got to run, but I wanted to give these to you. I totally messed up. I should have given this to you earlier. You could have used these decorations today,” Ben said, handing a cardboard box to Kate. “I’ll talk to you later?”
She smiled. “I’ll be here.”
Inside the box were their parents’ Fourth of July decorations, the ones their mother had collected over the years. Flags Kate remembered from childhood, a handmade sign that said Whaler’s Landing Welcomes You in their mother’s careful painting.
“I forgot about these,” Tom said softly, touching the sign.
“I remember Mom telling me she’d made this the first year they bought the inn,” Kate said. “She was so proud.”
They passed the items around, each decoration carrying memory. Their parents had loved the Fourth of July, had always made it special despite the work involved. Now their children were carrying on that tradition, different but rooted in the same love for this place.
“We should hang these next year,” Dani said. “Mix the old with the new.”
“Mom would love that,” James agreed.
Tom held the little wooden flag from the box, turning it over thoughtfully. “You know, if we really want every room booked next summer too, we should probably talk about something.”
Dani looked up from untangling a string of decorations. “Uh-oh. Tom has his family meeting voice.”
“It's not a meeting,” he protested. “It's more of a confession.”
James and Dani exchanged glances, and Kate caught the look.
“What's going on?” Kate asked.
Tom took a breath. “The three of us have been talking. For weeks now. About the future.”
“You’ve been talking, without me,” Kate said, not a question.
“We didn't want to worry you,” Dani said quickly. “You've had so much on your plate.”
James jumped in. “We've all decided to stay. Really stay. Make Kennebunkport home again, permanently. But we also realized something important.”
“We can't live here,” Tom finished. “Not if we're going to be a real family again. We need our own spaces. Places where we're not innkeeper's kids or employees or whatever. Just ourselves.”
Kate felt something tighten in her chest. “So you’re leaving?”
“No,” all three said at once.
“We’re staying,” Dani corrected. “But to do it right. As adults who choose to be here, not kids who got stuck here.”
James cleared his throat. “I bought the old Kendrick place. Closed on it yesterday.”
“Dani found a studio above the bakery,” Tom added.
“And Tom's been looking at that apartment over the hardware store that has enough room for an office,” Dani finished. “We've been coordinating. Making sure we could all move out around the same time so you wouldn't feel abandoned in stages.”
Kate stared at them. “How long have you been plotting this?”
“Since Memorial Day,” James admitted. “When we realized we were actually happy here. All of us. For the first time since Mom died.”
“We wanted to figure it out before telling you,” Tom said. “Have a plan that showed we weren't abandoning the inn or you. Just growing up, finally.”
“Thirty-three is a little late to move out of your childhood home,” Tom added with a weak smile.
“Twenty-eight isn't much better,” Dani agreed.
Kate was quiet for a long moment, processing. Her siblings had been meeting without her, making plans without her, protecting her from their decisions like she was fragile.
“You could have told me,” she said finally. “I would have understood.”
“Would you?” Tom asked gently. “Or would you have tried to fix it? Found reasons for us to stay? Convinced yourself we were only leaving because of something you did wrong?”
Kate wanted to protest, but he was right. She would have done exactly that.
“Plus,” Dani said with a knowing look, “you need your privacy too. Ben's been practically living here, and you two deserve space to figure out whatever it is you're doing without your three siblings watching from the breakfast table.”
“We're not…” Kate started.
“Oh please,” James interrupted. “The man rebuilt half this inn for free. That's not friendship, Kate.”
“He's in love with you,” Tom added. “Everyone knows it but you.”
“Or you know it and you're pretending not to,” Dani said more gently. “But Kate, he won't wait forever. Good men like Ben? They eventually move on if you don't give them hope.”
Kate felt her face flush. “This isn't about Ben.”
“Everything's been about everyone else for you,” Dani said. “The inn, Pop, us. Maybe it's time you think about what you want. Who you want.”
“Ben's a good man,” Tom said. “The kind who stays. The kind who builds things instead of tearing them down.”
“The kind who's been waiting for you to finally give in,” James added.
Kate looked at her siblings, all watching her with concern. “Since when did my love life become a family discussion?”
“Since you stopped having one to take care of everyone else,” Dani said bluntly. “We're moving out partly so you can move on. Have a life that isn't just about keeping this place running and keeping us together.”
“You deserve to be happy too,” Tom said. “And Ben makes you happy, even if you won't admit it.”
Kate felt exposed, vulnerable. They'd seen what she'd been trying not to acknowledge, the way Ben had become essential to her days, the way she looked for him every morning, the way his presence made everything feel more manageable.
“Just think about it,” Dani said. “While you're getting three more rooms to rent to paying guests, you're also getting the chance to figure out what you want. Who you want. Without an audience.”
Kate’s eyes focused on the floor, but when she looked at them again she smiled and nodded.
“Let’s have a toast,” Tom said as he poured more wine into everyone’s glass.
“To the Perkins siblings finally growing up,” Kate said.
“To choosing to stay,” Tom added.
“To bathroom privacy,” Dani laughed.
“To Kate finally admitting she's in love with Ben,” James said with a grin.
“James!” Kate protested, but she was laughing too.
“To family by choice, not circumstance,” Tom finished, giving Kate a meaningful look. “All kinds of family. The kind you're born into and the kind you choose.”
They clinked their glasses together, and Kate felt her face still burning from their observations about Ben.
But beneath the embarrassment was something else: possibility.
Her siblings were right. She'd been so focused on holding everything together that she'd never considered what she wanted for herself.
Maybe it was time to start.