Chapter Six Sisters
Dex
The sound of a door bursting open broke the quiet of the reception room.
“We’re here!” a voice sang, bright and confident enough to echo off the high ceiling. “Is there pie? Please say there’s pie. Jane?”
I turned from the wall I was prying open with a crowbar.
A young woman bounded inside, tracking snow and joy in equal measure.
She had curls tucked under a red knit hat and eyes that shone with the sort of mischief that warned of future chaos.
A second girl followed her more cautiously, brushing snow from her shoulders with the deliberation of someone allergic to surprises.
“I told you to text before we arrived. You can’t just barge into people’s homes,” the second girl muttered.
“Family doesn't text. Family bursts through doors like a snowstorm of joy,” the first replied grandly.
“Family, also respects boundaries,” the second girl retorted firmly.
William Bennet laughed from his place by the step ladder he had been setting up. “These are two of my other daughters, Kitty and Meri.”
Kitty grinned as she gave her father an enthusiastic hug. “Mom told us there was excitement. She said there were walls coming down, and I thought, finally there’s something dramatic in our lives!”
“You came for gossip and food,” Meri corrected, removing her gloves neatly before giving William a more reserved embrace.
Kitty tilted her head. “Both things are dramatic if you do them right.”
Helen swept in from the hallway like a proud general leading reinforcements. “Girls! Perfect timing. We are restoring the reception room to its former glory.”
Kitty’s eyes sparkled. “Does it involve destruction? I have always wanted to wield a sledgehammer. Tell me I can have one?”
“Controlled destruction,” Helen said, gesturing at me, Braxton, and William. “The gentlemen are doing the heavy work.”
Kitty looked us over, her grin widening. She stopped in front of me, squinting in theatrical appraisal. “Why is it that no one has introduced us yet? You must be the infamous Mr. Dexter. Jane texted us that you and your friend had arrived.”
Perhaps the reason why no one had introduced us was because she didn’t stay quiet or still enough to do so, I wryly thought to myself.
“Dexter Fitzwilliam, but you may call me Dex,” I said, levering the crowbar under a panel. It had been years since I had done any demolition, but I still knew how.
Braxton came to the rescue with good manners, shaking the hand of each girl in turn. “Braxton Hale. I’m pleased to meet more of Lucy’s sisters.”
“Lucy talks about you all the time. She says you’re terrifyingly precise, allergic to fun, and possibly part machine,” Kitty said with relish as she eyed me.
Braxton laughed so hard he almost dropped his hammer. “That sounds accurate.”
Kitty leaned toward me conspiratorially. “Don’t worry. She also said that you have nice hair.”
I straightened, dusting my hands on my jeans. "That's the strangest compliment I have ever received.”
Kitty winked. “Get used to it. We’re Bennets and we say odd things.”
“That'strue,” William easily agreed.
I went back to the task at hand. How we had been roped into this madness, I didn’t really know. Yet I found myself peeling back a section of seventies panelling which came free with a groan and a puff of dust.
“Careful,” William warned, wedging the claw of his hammer around the edge of another section. “If we’re lucky, there’s good wood under here.”
“Or rats. It could go either way,” Meri said, unimpressed.
“Positive thinking, sweetheart. Perhaps there are old coins in the walls,” Helen chirped.
“More likely there are ghosts,” Meri muttered.
“Ghosts! We could have a haunted house! I’ve always wanted my own spirit tagging along after me, trying to get my attention by throwing books or moaning in the eaves,” Kitty enthused.
I tried not to roll my eyes and saw Meri rolling hers. For a moment, I decided she was a kindred spirit.
“He could fall in love with me and tell me poetry but I wouldn’t know because he’s a ghost and I couldn’t hear him. It would be so tragic!” Kitty continued in her world of makebelieve.
“Oh, that sounds so lovely,” Helen added, wiping a tear with her apron.
“Or unrealistic,” William faintly murmured.
I levered the crowbar under another panel and pried. The fake wood gave way with a crack, revealing a strip of molding beneath. I brushed away the dust, and my breath caught.
Beautiful, handcrafted wainscoting was revealed.
It was tall, and still solid despite years of neglect.
It was dirty and covered in cobwebs. The holes from the nails would need to be filled in.
However, it was a find that would save the Bennet family time and money.
Above it, faded floral wallpaper peeked through, delicate roses curling along the seams. For a moment, I almost believed in the Bennet dream.
“Well,” Braxton breathed beside me. “Would you look at that wallpaper? It’s not original but it’s quite nice.”
“It’s incredible. It looks like something out of an old movie,” Kitty said, crouching close.
Meri leaned in, careful not to touch anything. “A very dusty movie.”
Helen clasped her hands together. “I knew it! I told William there was treasure in these walls.”
“You also told me we should paint over everything in coral,” William reminded her.
She waved him off. “Artistic vision evolves.”
Lucy’s voice floated in from the hallway. “What is happening in here ?”
She stepped into the room, wiping her hands on a towel.
Her cheeks were pink from the kitchen heat, a few strands of hair falling loose from her bun.
She looked at the debris-strewn floor and the open wall with the wary patience of a woman used to living among disasters.
“Please tell me you’re not pulling down load-bearing walls. ”
“Only the ugly ones,” Helen blithely replied.
Lucy folded her arms. “So all of them, then.”
“Just the panels hiding craftsmanship,” I corrected. “Come see this.”
She approached, her brow furrowing as she examined the uncovered molding. Her tone softened. “That’s beautiful.”
“It’s a lucky find. If the rest is in similar condition, your inn may become a reality,” I said quietly.
Her eyes met mine, and something unspoken passed between us. The room smelled of dust and lemon polish, the sound of tools echoing faintly. For a moment, the chaos faded, replaced by the quiet satisfaction of discovery.
Braxton broke the silence. “I think we can save most of it. A little sanding, some wood filler, a coat of paint, and it will look new again.”
Kitty tilted her head. “See? This is exactly what Lucy needs. Proof that miracles exist.”
“Miracles?” Lucy wryly asked.
“Sure. You quit your job, bought a crumbling inn, and found a man with tools who doesn’t run away. That’s divine intervention,” Kitty smiled in satisfaction. There was an uncanny resemblance to her mother which was a little disturbing to think there were two meddling women in this family.
Lucy turned pink. “Kitty, please.”
Meri smirked. “You’re lucky she didn’t mention what you said about him.”
“Don't start,” Lucy warned her sister.
“Too late,” Kitty said sweetly. “She told us he was an emotionless robot with tragic cheekbones.”
Braxton laughed so loudly that even William snorted. Helen looked from Lucy to me, delighted. “Well, that's oddly specific.”
Lucy groaned into her hands. “I need new sisters.”
I pretended to think it over. “Tragic cheekbones. How can cheekbones be tragic?”
“You’re impossible,” she muttered.
“Perhaps,” I said with an almost smile.
Her eyes met mine again, reluctant amusement flickering there. “You must have driven your mother insane growing up.”
“I did,” I admitted as my smile fell away. I shoved the old pain down, instead concentrating on the task at hand.
The next hour passed in easy rhythm. Boards came down, dust clouds rose, laughter filled the room.
For a family so impractical at construction, they worked surprisingly well together.
Helen directing, William measuring, the sisters handing off tools with more enthusiasm than precision.
Kitty documented the process like a proud aunt, snapping photos on her phone.
Even Meri, who complained about allergies, smiled once or twice as she helped haul the paneling to a dumpster outside.
By the time the last board hit the floor, the reception room looked transformed. The wainscoting ran the length of the walls, the wallpaper faint but lovely. Even the ceiling seemed higher.
Helen beamed. “See? It’s like the inn remembered who it was meant to be.”
Lucy wiped dust from her face and smiled. “Not bad, everyone.”
William nodded. “We’ll need to wash it all down tomorrow. Then sanding and patching. After that, fresh paint.”
“Tomorrow,” Helen echoed. “Tonight, we celebrate.”
“With champagne?” Braxton asked hopefully.
“With Christmas lights. ‘Tis the season. We need some on the porch and in the trees. The town will see us glowing from the hill. It will be better than any advertising to show we are in business!” Helen enthused.
Lucy groaned softly. “Mom, it’s dark out.”
“Perfect light-hanging weather,” she insisted.
Within minutes, the front yard turned into organized chaos again. Snow drifted steadily from the sky, and everyone had an opinion about how to detangle extension cords. Boxes of mismatched lights sat on the porch like defeated serpents.
“These are vintage,” Helen said proudly.
“They’re fire hazards,” I corrected.
“Same thing,” Kitty said cheerfully, handing me a tangled knot. “Make them pretty.”
William dragged out a ladder. “Braxton, you handle the left eave. Dex, the right.”
I climbed up, testing the first few bulbs.
Only half worked, but the snow caught the glow beautifully.
Below, Kitty was untangling another strand with the determination of a general leading an army of misfits.
“Meri, loop it around the railing! No, not like that. This is Christmas, not a crime scene!”
“Your enthusiasm is exhausting,” Meri said, but she followed the instructions anyway.
Lucy came out last, her coat half-zipped, a mug of coffee steaming in her hands. “How’s it going?”
“Structural integrity is sound,” I answered. “Aesthetic integrity is questionable.”
She tilted her head back to watch me on the ladder. “You could loosen up a little, you know.”
“I could, but then who would manage quality control?” I half joked, half seriously asked.
Her laugh rose softly into the cold air, curling with the snow. “You’re hopeless.”
“I’m efficient,” I corrected, clipping another strand.
Braxton plugged in his section, and a patchwork glow illuminated the porch. Some bulbs were bright, others dim but it worked. The inn came alive in gold and green light. The snow reflected it back tenfold, the whole yard glimmering.
Helen gasped, pressing her hands together. “Oh, it’s perfect!”
Lucy squinted. “Half the bulbs are dead.”
“Perfectly imperfect,” Helen said.
“We can buy more and replace the ones that don’t work,” William logically pointed out.
Kitty whooped and spun under the falling snow. “It’s magical! Dex, don’t you think it’s magical?”
I looked down at Lucy, her hair catching the light, the snow landing on her eyelashes.
“It’s something,” I said quietly.
“Something?” she echoed.
“Maybe miraculous,” I admitted. It was odd. Less than eight hours ago I was ready to call the whole inn a disaster, yet now I could almost feel that it could work.
Kitty leaned toward Meri. “You hear that? The robot feels things!”
“Tragic cheekbones and feelings. He’s evolving,” Meri dryly observed.
Lucy covered her face with her mitten. “I regret ever speaking to either of you.”
But she was smiling. A real, unguarded smile that caught me off guard.
When the last light was strung, we all stood together at the edge of the yard. The snow fell thick and steady now, softening the edges of everything. The inn glowed behind us, every crooked bulb and faded shutter turned beautiful in the light.
William wrapped an arm around Helen’s shoulders. “Not bad, honey. For a half-ruined money pit.”
“It’s an investment in joy,” she said, leaning into him.
Braxton and Jane exchanged shy smiles near the porch. Kitty snapped a photo on her phone. Meri muttered about frostbite. And Lucy stood beside me, quiet and still, watching the lights.
She rubbed her hands together for warmth. “You know, for someone who hates chaos, you’re fitting in.”
“I adapt,” I mentioned.
“Is that your secret superpower?” she asked, tongue in cheek.
“Adaptability and tragic cheekbones.”
She laughed again, the sound soft and genuine. “I’ll give you that one.”
The light caught her face, the faintest color rising in her cheeks. The cold bit in the air between us, but I barely felt it. The glow from the inn shimmered across the snow like a promise.
For the first time in a long time, I didn't feel like a man standing in a place he didn't belong.