Page 50 of Captiva Café

"Isabelle was concerned this new development might delay their opening timeline," Chelsea added, "but apparently the archaeologist is working quickly. And Gretchen's already talking about creating a display case for the café to showcase the findings."

Oliver and Iris arrived with the main course—a spectacular seafood paella rich with saffron, studded with shrimp, mussels, and chunks of local fish, garnished with bright red bell peppers and fresh herbs from the garden. The enormous paella pan, designed for serving directly at the table, was placed on a specially designed stand at the center, steam rising aromatically into the night air. The dish was a riot of colors—golden rice, red peppers, green herbs, and the pink and white of perfectly cooked seafood—all illuminated by the surrounding lights and flames.

The presentation drew spontaneous applause from the diners, much to Oliver's evident satisfaction. Earlier successes with the appetizers and soup had given the chef confidence that his main course would be well-received, but the enthusiastic reaction still brought a flush of pride to his normally stoic features. Iris, arranging serving utensils, gave him a knowing smile—their countless hours of preparation had achieved exactly the response they'd hoped for.

"This reminds me of a dish we had in Valencia," Gareth commented after his first appreciative bite. "Though I dare say Oliver's version might be even better."

Oliver, passing with a basket of crusty bread still warm from the oven, beamed at the compliment. "The secret is in the sofrito—slow cooking the base for maximum flavor."

As they enjoyed the paella, the conversation shifted to business matters, with Steven and Trevor falling into shop talk about a commercial project they were collaborating on in Naples.

"The permitting process is a nightmare," Trevor was saying, gesturing with his fork. "Three months just to get preliminary approval."

"That's why I brought you in," Steven replied. "Your reputation with the historic preservation board opens doors."

"Not as many as you might think." Trevor laughed. "But we'll get there. The adaptive reuse plan is solid. I have to thank my time working with my father for anything I can add to the project."

“How is your father?” Maggie asked.

Trevor nodded. “He’s doing really well. You wouldn’t know he’d had a stroke. He’s got a slight limp and uses a cane, but otherwise, he’s the same ornery, difficult and impatient Devon Hutchins as ever.”

"How about we institute a 'no construction talk' rule after the main course?" Sarah suggested good-naturedly.

"Seconded," Chelsea agreed.

"Maggie," Chelsea said, deftly changing the subject, "how is your Massachusetts contingent? Any news from the frozen north?"

Maggie's face lit up at the mention of her children and grandchildren. "Oh! I can't believe I forgot to tell you the latest news. Beth is having twins!"

"Twins!" Chelsea exclaimed, nearly spilling her wine. "When did you find out?"

"They were fairly certain around thirteen weeks, but now that’s she’s further along, they’ve confirmed. She just told me last week when we had a family video call," Maggie explained, her expression a mixture of excitement and lingering surprise. "And just before you all got here, Beth sent a text. They’re having a boy and a girl. Gabriel is over the moon—already designing matching cribs in his workshop."

"That's wonderful news," Sarah said warmly. "Beth must be adjusting to the idea of an instantly larger family. I’m calling her tomorrow. How’s she handling the news?"

"In typical Beth fashion," Maggie replied with a fond smile. “She’s excited and scared at the same time. She’s got Gabriel’s father, Thomas, and the family for help with the orchard. It’s going to be crazy on that farm when the babies come. I think I’ll be staying in Massachusetts a while longer than usual when that day comes.”

“That’s great. I like Thomas, he’s a good man,” Paolo said. “I assume he’s staying at the farm?”

"At least through spring," Maggie confirmed. "He's moved back into the main farmhouse to be closer as Beth's pregnancy progresses. James is handling most of the woodworking orders now."

"And how's our newest Florida transplant settling in?" Gareth inquired. "Lauren and her family, correct?"

"Beautifully," Maggie beamed. "The house in Sarasota is perfect for them. Olivia's thriving at the tennis academy—her coach says she has national-level potential. And Lauren is already planning how to build her real estate network down here."

"Lily was hesitant about the move at first," Sarah added, "but now she's joined a junior marine biology club and can name more fish species than most adults."

"Having two of your five children nearby must be wonderful," Emma observed.

"It is," Maggie agreed, her happiness evident. "Though I'll never stop hoping that Becca and Chris might eventually join us too. Beth and Michael will never move from Massachusetts. Michael’s a Boston police officer and will most likely spend the rest of his working life as such.”

"One miracle at a time," Chelsea teased, echoing advice she'd given Maggie many times before.

As the main course plates were cleared, the conversation continued to flow, moving from family updates to island gossip to plans for the upcoming holiday season. The sky above had deepened to black velvet, revealing a spectacular tapestry of stars unhindered by big-city light pollution. The temperature had dropped slightly, making the flame heaters' warmth all the more welcome as they created a cocoon of comfort against the gentle evening chill.

"I brought dessert," Chelsea announced as Iris began to clear the last of the dinner plates. "A rum cake from that new bakery on Periwinkle Way."

"Which will pair beautifully with Oliver's key lime pie," Iris added with a wink.

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