Page 16 of Captiva Café

Some people need a little nudge toward where they need to be.

She wondered what nudge Captiva might have in store for their newest guest.

Outside on the beach, Merritt Ryan walked alone along the water's edge. She'd woken before dawn, the unfamiliar bed and lingering travel fatigue disrupting her sleep. Rather than lie awake listening to the inn's quiet breathing, she'd slipped out with just her phone and a light jacket against the morning chill.

The beach was empty at this hour, the sand cool beneath her bare feet. Tiny sandpipers darted along the shoreline, probing the wet sand with their beaks, unconcerned by her presence. She walked slowly, stopping occasionally to pick up shells orwatch the pelicans dive into the Gulf waters with surprising grace for such ungainly-looking birds.

Her phone vibrated in her pocket. She knew without looking that it would be another message from her mother. There had been three since yesterday—increasingly concerned texts asking about her plans, her job, when she was coming home. Merritt had responded to the first with a brief "I'm fine, just need some time," but had let the others sit unanswered.

Guilt tugged at her, a familiar companion. Marion Ryan had always been an anxious mother, her love expressed through worry and careful planning. Merritt's unexpected departure had undoubtedly thrown her into a tailspin of concern.

But for once, Merritt couldn't bring herself to offer the reassurances that would smooth things over. She needed this space, this distance, this chance to hear her own thoughts without her mother's well-meaning voice drowning them out.

She pulled out her phone, intending to at least check the messages, when movement farther down the beach caught her eye. A figure was emerging from a path between the dunes, headed toward the water. Even from a distance, Merritt recognized Maggie from the inn, her blonde hair catching the early light.

Merritt hesitated, unsure whether to continue her solitary walk or acknowledge her host. Before she could decide, Maggie spotted her and raised a hand in greeting. Decision made, Merritt waved back and began walking in her direction.

"Early riser?" Maggie asked as they met halfway.

"New place," Merritt explained. "I always sleep badly the first few nights somewhere unfamiliar."

Maggie nodded in understanding. "I'm the same way. Hotels are torture for me—all those strange sounds and different pillows."

"Exactly," Merritt agreed, surprised by the immediate connection. "My mother never understands. She can sleep anywhere, anytime."

"Sounds like my daughter Lauren." Maggie laughed. "She once fell asleep standing up at a concert. Her brother had to prop her against a wall until the encore finished."

Merritt smiled, trying to imagine the family dynamics that would lead to such a scenario. Last night's dinner had given her glimpses of the connections between Maggie's family members, but it was clear there were years of shared history beneath every interaction.

"I'm heading back to start breakfast," Maggie said. "Orange cranberry scones just came out of the oven. You're welcome to continue your walk, of course, but if you're hungry..."

The mention of freshly baked scones made Merritt's stomach rumble audibly. She hadn't eaten much at dinner, too self-conscious among the family gathering.

"That sounds amazing," she admitted.

They turned and began walking together toward the inn, a dolphin's fin broke the surface of the water, then another, a mother and calf perhaps, navigating the morning tide together.

Merritt stole a glance at Maggie's profile—serene, confident, somehow both formidable and welcoming. There was something about her that reminded Merritt of her favorite elementary school principal, Mrs. Harlow, who had always seemed to know exactly what each child needed before they knew it themselves.

"Can I ask you something?" Merritt said suddenly.

"Of course," Maggie replied.

"How did you know...that this was where you belonged? Captiva, I mean."

Maggie was quiet for a moment, considering the question. "I didn't, at first," she said finally. "Our family visited the island formany summers. When I came here after my first husband died, it was just supposed to be a temporary escape—somewhere to catch my breath before facing real life again. But the island had other ideas."

"What do you mean?"

"Places choose people sometimes, not the other way around," Maggie said, her eyes on the horizon. "I started to notice that I could breathe more easily here. I slept better. Colors seemed brighter. And one morning I woke up and realized I didn't want to leave, ever."

Merritt nodded slowly, absorbing this. "And your family? Were they already here?"

"No." Maggie laughed softly. "They thought I'd lost my mind when Paolo and I took over the inn. My kids were grown, but they were settled in Massachusetts, with their lives and careers. My mother was the only one who seemed to understand immediately."

"But now they're coming here too," Merritt observed, remembering the dinner conversation. "Lauren just moved, and Christopher might be next?"

"Life has a way of circling back," Maggie agreed. "Though Beth will probably never leave her New England roots. Some people know exactly where they belong from the start."

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