Page 37 of Captiva Café

Gareth, who had been quietly observing, nodded thoughtfully. "Sometimes you need distance to gain perspective."

"That's what I think," Maggie agreed. "Something tells me she's at a crossroads in her life."

Emma shifted in her seat, adjusting her position with the careful movements of late pregnancy. "Well, now I'm curious to meet her. I can relate to staying at the Key Lime Garden Inn for a spell while trying to find your way. I don’t know what I wouldhave done without this family’s support…and my own family, of course."

As if on cue, they heard footsteps on the shell path leading from the beach. Merritt appeared around the corner of the house, sand clinging to her bare feet, a peaceful expression on her face that quickly shifted to surprise when she noticed the gathering on the porch.

"Oh, sorry," she said, pausing at the foot of the steps. "I didn't mean to interrupt."

"Not at all," Maggie said warmly, waving her up. "Merritt, come meet our friends. Emma and Gareth just arrived from Naples. They're looking to buy a place on the island but will be staying in the cottage for a bit."

Merritt hesitated, then climbed the steps.

"Emma and Gareth are not only former guests, but Emma and Sarah were college roommates and best friends," Maggie explained. "Emma was actually working here temporarily when she met Gareth."

"It was a confusing time in my life," Emma added with a warm smile. "I was considering joining a convent if you can believe that."

"And I was..." Gareth paused, his eyes reflecting a past pain, "working through some things of my own."

Merritt nodded politely, but Maggie noticed how she subtly shifted her weight, as if ready to retreat.

"Merritt's from Maine," Maggie offered, trying to ease the tension. "Kennebunk."

"Beautiful there," Emma commented. "All those rocky shores and lighthouses. Very different from here."

"Yes," Merritt agreed quietly. "Very different."

Emma shifted slightly in her chair, making room on the wicker loveseat beside her. "Join us? Unless you've got sand to wash off."

“Thanks,” Merritt answered.

"So what brings you to Captiva?" Gareth asked, his tone casual, non-probing.

Merritt's fingers twisted together in her lap. "Just...needed a change of scenery."

"I understand that," Emma said softly. "When I came here, I was running away from expectations. My family had my whole life planned out." She placed a hand on her rounded belly. "Funny how life takes unexpected turns."

Something flickered in Merritt's eyes—recognition, perhaps, of a kindred spirit who understood the weight of others' expectations.

"Merritt plays guitar," Maggie interjected. "Beautifully. We've been trying to convince her to play at one of the cafés in town."

"You should," Emma encouraged. "The island has a way of helping people discover—or rediscover—parts of themselves they've buried, and nothing helps that better than music."

Merritt's gaze dropped to her sandy feet. "I've never really played for an audience before. Just...for myself. And my mother."

The mention of her mother caused a subtle shift in Merritt's expression—a tightening around the eyes that didn't escape Maggie's notice.

"Sometimes the hardest audience is the one we're closest to," Gareth said quietly.

Merritt looked up, meeting his eyes briefly, something unspoken passing between them—two people who understood carrying the weight of others' expectations and disappointments.

"I should get cleaned up," she said finally, gesturing to her sandy feet. "Nice to meet you both."

As she disappeared into the inn, Emma turned to Maggie with compassionate eyes. "She reminds me a bit of myself when I first arrived. Carrying so much, but not sure how to put it down."

"That's exactly it," Maggie agreed. "I get the sense she's running from something back in Maine. Something to do with her mother, perhaps."

Sarah nodded thoughtfully. "She mentioned canceling something the other day when she was on the phone. Sounded like she was explaining why she wouldn't be somewhere she was expected."

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