Page 63 of Captiva Café

Chelsea strode forward, claiming the chair opposite Linda's desk without waiting for an invitation. "We need to talk about your article, Linda."

"Which one?" Linda asked, though her slightly defensive tone suggested she already knew.

"The archaeological discoveries at the café site," Maggie clarified, taking the remaining chair with considerably more hesitation than Chelsea had shown. "It's caused something of a...situation."

Linda removed her reading glasses and placed them precisely on her desk blotter. "I assume you're referring to the public interest it has generated. That's rather the point of journalism, isn't it? To inform the public of matters that might interest them?"

"Interest is one thing," Chelsea said, leaning forward. "Creating a tourist attraction out of an active construction site is another."

"I can hardly be held responsible for how people respond to factual reporting." Linda sniffed.

"Linda," Maggie began in her most reasonable tone, "there were thirty-seven people gathered outside the café site yesterday. Someone set up a folding table selling 'Captiva Archaeology Club' t-shirts. A man with a metal detector was trying to access the property from the rear."

"And a woman from Naples arrived with a picnic basket and lawn chairs for her entire family," Chelsea added. "They were settling in for the day like it was a theme park attraction."

Linda's expression remained impassive, but a slight twitch at the corner of her mouth betrayed a flicker of concern. "The public has a right to?—"

"The public has a right to accurate information," Maggie interrupted, her patience beginning to fray. "Including the fact that this is a dangerous construction zone, not an interactive exhibit."

Chelsea leaned back in her chair, her posture deliberately casual. "Which is why we need you to publish an urgent notice in tomorrow's edition. Setting clear boundaries for the café site. Warning people about potential fines for trespassing on an active construction zone."

"And you expect me to contradict my own article?" Linda's tone was incredulous. "To undermine the historical significance I just established?"

"Not contradict," Maggie corrected. "Supplement. Provide additional information that allows people to appreciate the significance while respecting the safety concerns."

Linda's eyes narrowed suspiciously. "And why would I do this? The original article has generated more interest in the Chronicle than anything I've published in months."

Chelsea and Maggie exchanged a glance, the moment they had prepared for finally arriving.

"Because," Chelsea said smoothly, "we thought you might appreciate the opportunity to support a local businessventure. Especially one being undertaken by someone recently widowed."

"Isabelle is hardly the first widow on this island," Linda countered, though her tone had lost some of its edge.

"And," Maggie added, "we'd be willing to pay for a full-page advertisement for the café. 'Coming Soon' with some tasteful graphics. Paolo has already sketched something quite lovely."

Linda's expression shifted slightly, commercial interest warring with journalistic pride. "A full page is expensive."

"We're aware," Chelsea replied dryly. "But we value the Chronicle's reach and influence."

Linda studied them both for a long moment, clearly sensing there was more to this visit than they were revealing. "Why do I feel there's something you're not telling me?"

The moment stretched between them, tension building until Chelsea finally broke it with characteristic directness.

"We've noticed Byron Jameson has been visiting the Chronicle office quite regularly lately," she said, watching Linda's face carefully. "And we couldn't help but observe certain...changes in your appearance."

Linda went very still. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"The new dresses," Maggie said gently. "The perfume."

"The lipstick," Chelsea added. "The highlights in your hair."

"My personal choices are none of your concern," Linda said stiffly, though a distinct flush had crept up her neck.

"Of course not," Maggie agreed quickly. "And they're lovely choices. That blue dress you wore last week was particularly flattering."

"Byron seemed to think so too," Chelsea remarked with deliberate casualness. "We saw him watching you at the community center meeting. He could hardly take his eyes off you."

Linda's flush deepened. "You're imagining things."

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