Page 15 of Captiva Café

"I'm perfectly safe," Grandma Sarah dismissed. "I have my bear spray, my personal alarm, and my wits about me. Besides, I've made friends with a whole community of nomads out here. We look out for each other."

The timer on Maggie's phone beeped, alerting her that the scones needed to be checked. "Just a second, Mom," she said, rising to hurry to the kitchen.

The scones were golden brown, their tops glistening with caramelized sugar. Maggie pulled them from the oven and set them on a cooling rack before returning to her office, phone pressed to her ear.

"—and besides," her mother was saying, apparently having continued the conversation uninterrupted, "I'm not alone out here. There's a whole community of nomads who look out for each other. Wally and Joyce are parked just down the road from me."

"Wally the goat farmer?" Maggie asked, remembering Millie's comment to Merritt.

"Former goat farmer," Grandma Sarah corrected. "Now he's a nomadic cheese artisan. Makes the most divine chèvre you've ever tasted right in his converted school bus. I featured him in last month's 'Nomads With Knowhow' segment."

Maggie sighed, recognizing the futility of this particular battle. Her mother had always been fiercely independent, but since taking to the road in the Garrison Getaway (a clever play on her maiden name that she'd kept even after marriage), she'd become virtually unstoppable.

"Could you at least consider not sharing your real-time location?" Maggie asked. "Maybe post the videos after you've moved on from a spot?"

There was a thoughtful pause. "That's actually not a bad idea," Grandma Sarah admitted. "I've been reading about operational security in one of those van life forums."

"Operational security?"

"It's basically about not oversharing information that could compromise your safety," her mother explained. "I suppose I should be more careful. But I tell you, at my age, what's the worst that could happen? Someone steals the van? Insurance would cover it, and I'd just buy a bigger one."

"Mom..."

"I'm kidding, Maggie." Grandma Sarah laughed. "Mostly. But yes, I'll consider posting with a delay. And maybe I'll be a bit vague about my exact coordinates."

"Thank you," Maggie said, genuine relief in her voice. "That would make me worry less."

"You're a good daughter," her mother said, her tone softening. "But you don't need to worry so much. I may be old, but I'm not foolish. I'm careful."

"I know, Mom. I just?—"

"You just love me," Grandma Sarah finished for her. "And I love you too. Now, tell me about your new guest. The one from Maine who came because of my video. Is she settling in?"

Maggie smiled, allowing the subject change. "She is. Her name is Merritt Ryan. She's a teacher—or was. I think she's figuring things out right now."

"Ah." Grandma Sarah's voice held understanding. "Captiva is good for that. That's why I made sure I featured the inn so prominently in my video. The inn is a special place and people need to know about it. I might have mentioned Captiva is almost like a retreat. I think that must have done the trick."

"You did that on purpose?" Maggie raised an eyebrow, though her mother couldn't see it.

"Of course I did," Grandma Sarah replied matter-of-factly. "Some people need a little nudge toward where they need to be. If I can help someone overcome their problems by suggesting they come to Captiva, then so be it."

"How could you possibly know how things will turn out in the end? Not every problem is solved by spending a day on the beach."

"Intuition," her mother said simply. "The same way I knew that Paolo was right for you the first time I met him. Some things you just know."

Before Maggie could respond, she heard the sound of footsteps on the inn's front stairs. Early risers heading out for a beach walk most likely.

"I need to go, Mom. Guests are stirring."

"Go feed your flock," Grandma Sarah said warmly. "And Maggie? Don't worry so much. Life's too short for that, especially at my age."

"I'll try," Maggie promised. "Love you, Mom."

"Love you too, sweetheart."

As Maggie ended the call, she found herself smiling despite her lingering concerns. Her mother had always lived life on her own terms, but the van life adventure had unleashed a new level of fearlessness in her. Perhaps there was something to be learned from her mother's approach—embracing each day as an adventure rather than a series of potential disasters to be managed.

The aroma of freshly baked scones had begun to fill the inn, a silent invitation to early risers. Maggie rose and headed to the kitchen to prepare the rest of breakfast, her mind still on her mother's words about Merritt Ryan.

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