Page 33 of Captiva Café

"Yes, I remember," Maggie said, gesturing toward the wicker chairs on the porch. "We had such a wonderful turnout initially."

"Well, it's been dismal lately," Linda declared, remaining standing. "And I think you should do something about it."

Maggie blinked. "Me?"

"Yes, you," Linda insisted, adjusting her oversized sunglasses. "You seem to have more influence over the women in the group than I do. Can't you talk to them? Remind them of their commitment?"

Maggie took a deep breath. "Linda, I understand your frustration, but everyone has valid reasons for missing meetings. My mother's been traveling for the past few weeks—you know how she is once she gets the wanderlust. And Claire's been absolutely swamped at her shop with the summer tourist season. I’m sure things will slow down soon."

"And what about Rebecca? Jennifer? Susan?" Linda counted off on her manicured fingers. I went to great lengths to get more ladies from the island to join. They showed up for the first three months and then nothing.”

"Rebecca's daughter is rarely around because her job takes her all over the world, so Rebecca tries to spend any free time with her when she's home. As for the others..." Maggie shrugged helplessly.

Linda huffed, her chest expanding dramatically. "Well, it's simply unacceptable. I spend hours selecting the perfect literature, preparing discussion questions, arranging refreshments..."

Below, Chelsea caught Paolo's eye and silently mouthed "Miss Gulch" while making a bicycle pedaling motion with her hands. Paolo nearly choked trying to contain his laughter.

"Perhaps," Maggie offered gently, "we could consider changing the meeting time? Or maybe the frequency? Summer is always difficult with everyone's schedules."

"Change the—?" Linda's voice rose an octave. "The third Thursday of every month at four o'clock has been my book club schedule for twenty years! Even when I ran it in Sarasota!"

Maggie nodded patiently. "I understand tradition, Linda, but sometimes flexibility?—"

"Flexibility leads to chaos," Linda interrupted, her purse now clutched like a shield against her chest. "No, what we need is commitment. Dedication. If people can't honor a simple monthly obligation, what does that say about our community?"

Paolo, having composed himself, climbed the stairs with the basket of tomatoes. "Linda, would you like to take some of these home? They're wonderful in a summer salad."

Linda glanced at the basket as if it contained snakes rather than produce. "No, thank you. I'm watching my nightshades." She turned back to Maggie. "I expect you'll speak to everyone before next month's meeting. We're discussing 'The Age of Innocence,' and I won't be the only one who's read it. Again."

With that, Linda turned on her heel and marched back down the steps, narrowly missing Chelsea, who had to press herself against the railing to avoid collision.

After Linda disappeared around the side of the inn, Chelsea released a breath. "How does she make even book clubs sound threatening?"

Maggie sank into a porch chair. "I don't have the heart to tell her that Claire is thinking of starting her own secret book club. They read romance novels and drink wine."

Paolo set the basket down and squeezed Maggie's shoulder. "Maybe Linda should try romance novels. Might do her some good."

All three of them burst into laughter, the tension of Linda's visit dissolving into the warm afternoon air.

Merritt walked into the kitchen and filled her to-go cup with coffee.

“Morning Iris,” she said feeling especially cheerful.

“Good morning, Merritt. How did you sleep last night?”

“Much better. I think I’m getting used to the bed and the sound of the ocean nearby doesn’t hurt.”

“There’s plenty of breakfast in the dining room, if you’re hungry. I’ve noticed you haven’t eaten much in the mornings. Not a breakfast person?”

Merritt chuckled. “Not at all. As long as I have my coffee, I’m good to go.”

“Well, there are plenty of scones, croissants and items you can take on the go if you’d prefer. What’s the plan for today?”

Just then, Maggie walked into the kitchen. “I’m taking Merritt around the island. She’s getting a personal tour of the place.”

Iris’s eyes lit up. “My goodness, Merritt. Not everyone gets this kind of personal attention,” she teased.

“I do consider myself very lucky.”

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