Page 13 of Captiva Café

"How's the new house, Lauren?" Beth asked, changing the subject. "Is it everything you hoped?"

Lauren's face lit up. "It's perfect. The girls are settling in, and you should see the home office. I've already started researching the local real estate market. I'm thinking of expanding Phillips Realty to Florida within the year."

"And the pool?" Maggie asked. "Is Lily using it?"

"Using it? We can barely get her out of it." Lauren laughed. "She's decided she's part mermaid."

"I still can't believe you're all the way in Florida," Beth said, a hint of wistfulness in her voice. "What about Thanksgiving? Christmas?"

A momentary silence fell over the call, the unspoken geography of their family suddenly apparent. Maggie felt a familiar tug at her heart—the bittersweet reality of children grown and scattered.

"We'll figure it out," she said firmly. "That's what families do."

"Besides," Lauren added brightly, "now we have guest rooms for everyone. Beth, you and Gabriel have to come down once the twins arrive and you're cleared for travel."

"I just don’t think I could handle two babies at the same time. It would overwhelm me."

"Says the man with actual military training," Michael teased.

"Different skillset entirely," Christopher insisted. "They don't cover spit-up trajectories in basic training."

As the siblings fell into their familiar pattern of gentle ribbing, Maggie sat back and simply watched, soaking in thesight of her children—grown now, with lives and families of their own, but still connected by invisible threads of love and shared history.

The call continued for another half hour, updates flowing freely between the siblings—Christopher's adventures in fatherhood, Lauren's new neighborhood, Beth's expanding garden and orchard plans, Michael's latest case that he could only describe in the vaguest terms, and Sarah's stories of island life that made the northern contingent visibly envious as summer transitioned to fall.

By the time they began signing off—Eloise needed feeding, Daniel was fussing, Beth was falling asleep—Maggie felt both full and empty, the paradox of motherhood that had never quite left her, even with her children fully grown.

"Love you all," she said as the windows began to close one by one. "Same time next week?"

A chorus of agreements and blown kisses, and then the screen was empty, leaving Maggie alone with the quiet hum of the laptop and the distant sound of waves through the open window.

She closed the computer gently and stood, stretching her back. Through the office door, she could see Merritt sitting alone on the front porch, her guitar case beside her, though it remained closed. The young woman was simply staring out at the darkened front yard, her face thoughtful in the soft porch light.

Maggie recognized that expression, she'd seen it in her own children at various crossroads, that mixture of hope and hesitation, possibility and fear.

With a small smile, she turned out the office light and headed to the carriage house, leaving Merritt to her thoughts. Some journeys, after all, needed to begin in solitude before they could be shared.

CHAPTER 5

Dawn crept through the windows of the Key Lime Garden Inn as Maggie moved quietly around the familiar space. These early morning hours before guests stirred were hers alone—a pocket of peace before the day's demands began.

She hummed softly as she gathered ingredients: flour, butter, sugar, orange zest, and the cranberries she kept frozen year-round for her signature scones. The recipe existed only in her head, passed down from her grandmother and adjusted over the years until it became uniquely hers. Measuring by feel and memory, she worked the butter into the flour with practiced fingers.

Lexie padded into the kitchen, nails clicking softly on the tile floor. The small dog circled twice before settling into her usual spot near the oven, from which warmth would soon emanate.

"Just us early birds, huh girl?" Maggie murmured, adding orange zest to the mixture. The bright citrus scent bloomed in the quiet kitchen.

As she folded the cranberries into the dough, Maggie's thoughts drifted to the previous evening's family call. Beth's twin announcement had been a delightful surprise, though shecouldn't help thinking of the additional strain two babies would place on her daughter and Gabriel. The orchard was still finding its footing financially, and twins meant double everything—cribs, car seats, diapers, college funds.

But Beth had always been the most practical of her children. If anyone could manage twins while maintaining an orchard, it would be her strong-willed, organized daughter.

The dough came together under her hands, and Maggie turned it onto the floured counter, gently shaping it into a round before cutting it into perfect triangles. She arranged them on parchment-lined baking sheets, brushed the tops with cream, and sprinkled them with sugar that would crystallize into a sweet crust during baking.

With the scones in the oven, filling the kitchen with their comforting aroma, Maggie poured herself a cup of coffee and slipped into her small office off the lobby. Paolo wouldn't be up for another hour, and the earliest guests rarely appeared before eight. She had time for her other morning ritual.

Settling into her chair, Maggie opened her laptop and navigated to YouTube, where her mother's channel—"Silver Wanderings with Grandma Sarah"—now boasted over ninety thousand subscribers. The latest video, posted just yesterday, had already accumulated twelve thousand views.

Maggie clicked play with a mixture of pride and trepidation.

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