Page 22 of In Your Wake

Her blue eyes glisten and she lowers her gaze. No matter how strained things are between us, there’s still a huge part of me that hates seeing Maxine so sad and hopeless. A part that despises when she’s hurting and begs to make it all better.

I peer into the tiny bathroom and am met by a floral overload—on the towels, the shower curtain, the wallpaper. Yep, definitely needs a refresh. Or a tone down.

“Since when do you believe in God?” I ask, stepping out, trying to distract her.

Maxine’s head snaps up, and she grimaces as if I’ve insulted her. “Where’s that coming from?”

“At dinner, you prayed.”

With a small eye roll, she shakes her head. “No, I lowered my head to placate Bill and Robyn. You have no idea what I was actually thinking.”

“You were placating them?” I reply with a frown.

“Why would I waste my energy arguing with them? I’m not going to instigate something when he’s—” She stops, reconsidering her words. “If praying makes them feel better about what’s happening, then who am I to judge?”

“Huh,” I say, scratching my chin.

“What?”

“That’s the most you’ve said to me since I got here.” A slow smile tugs at my lips, but with an annoyed exhale, she steps out. I give the room one last look over, then shut the door behind me, finding her waiting down the hall. “I don’t get it. If you’re willing to ignore your beliefs to respect theirs, surely you can do the same about this place.”

She spins around. “That’s what you think this is? A conflict of opinion? There’s no conflict, Mitch. The inn speaks for itself.”

“We could help it bounce back.”

“And I’m sure the right buyer could do whatever they want to it.”

“You’d sell it?” I snap, my eyes bulging.

Her hand lands on my arm with a soft thud. “Sometimes a lost cause is a lost cause.”

This time when we lock eyes, she doesn’t turn hers away in disgust. A few seconds pass, then, as if realizing what she’s doing, she squeezes her eyes shut and pulls her hand away, rushing downstairs.

I hurry after her. “This place isn’t a lost cause. As Bill said, we’re in this together.”

She stomps into the dining room at the back of the house.

“You can’t just decide to sell without my approval.”

“Oh my god, please stop pretending you give a shit,” Max exclaims, covering her face.

An older lady sits by the empty fireplace alone, reading a book. She glances up at us, curious, and I offer her a polite nod. Max notices and drops her voice, but doesn’t seem too bothered by the guest eavesdropping.

“Let’s be honest. You’re only interested in the profit. And I hate to burst your bubble, Mitch, but there’s none to be made.” She busies herself fixing chairs that don’t need fixing. “So, we have two options. Either we sell and split whatever we get for it. Or you can go back to New York and let me handle everything. I’ve been doing it for years without your help, and I’ll keep doing it just fine.”

I scowl, trying to pinpoint the exact moment Maxine’s passionate glow dimmed into something so overwhelmingly negative. Nothing used to stand in her way. There was nothing she wouldn’t do to make things happen. Even the most outlandish dreams never seemed too far-fetched.

“This isn’t like you, Max. The girl I used to know wouldn’t give up so easily.”

She twists her mouth. “First of all, stop calling me Max. And second, the girl you knew is gone. People grow up, they live and learn, and when they get hurt, they build walls.”

As if she’s forgotten why she came into the room, she tries to walk around me, but I step in her way, blocking the door.

“Maxine…” Her name sounds like a warning, but what I want to say sticks in my throat, too heavy to come out.

“What, Mitchell?” she spits back, slamming her hands onto her hips.

“You need more faith in people. Even the ones who’ve let you down.”