Page 68 of Captiva Café

"Maggie's been checking her phone every five minutes since yesterday afternoon," he explained. "That's her Lauren worry pattern. With Sarah, she paces. With Christopher, she stress-bakes. But with Lauren, it's the phone-checking."

"The woman needs staff who are less perceptive," Chelsea muttered. "So you'll cover for her?"

Oliver nodded. "One hour. But if the Hendersons arrive early, all bets are off."

"Fair enough."

Chelsea positioned herself near the entrance, newspaper still tucked under her arm, watching as Maggie finally extracted herself from the disgruntled guests. Before Maggie could retreat back to her office, Chelsea intercepted her, grabbing her arm with gentle insistence.

"You're coming with me," she announced. "Right now."

"Chelsea, I can't possibly?—"

"One hour," Chelsea interrupted. "Oliver's handling everything. The inn won't collapse without you for sixty minutes."

"But the Porters?—"

"Aren't arriving for another two hours. Come on." Chelsea tugged her toward the door. "We're going for a walk on the beach, and you're going to tell me what's really going on with you and Lauren."

Maggie looked ready to protest further, but something in Chelsea's expression must have convinced her of the futility. With a sigh, she relented.

"Let me grab my hat at least. The sun is brutal this time of day."

Five minutes later, they were making their way down the shell-strewn path that led from the inn to the beach. The mid-afternoon heat pressed against them like a physical presence, but the sea breeze offered intermittent relief as they drew closer to the water.

The beach was relatively quiet—too hot for most tourists, who had retreated to air-conditioned shops or poolside loungers with frozen drinks. A few dedicated sunbathers dotted the sand,and in the distance, a couple walked along the shoreline, bent in the distinctive posture of shell collectors focused on their treasure hunt.

Chelsea kicked off her sandals the moment they reached the firm, damp sand near the water's edge. Maggie followed suit with a bit more decorum, placing hers neatly together above the tide line.

"Now," Chelsea said, as they began walking parallel to the gentle waves, "tell me about Lauren."

Maggie exhaled slowly, some of the tension visibly leaving her body as she gazed out at the Gulf. "I don't know what to tell you, exactly. It's more of a feeling than anything concrete."

"Your maternal intuition is generally reliable," Chelsea acknowledged. "What's it telling you?"

"That something's wrong. That she's unhappy. That this move to Florida might not have been entirely her choice." Maggie bent to pick up a perfect angel wing shell, examining it briefly before slipping it into her pocket. "When she visited Sarah's the other day, there was a moment when we were talking about Olivia's tennis. She said something about Jeff wanting to 'go all in' with coaches and tournaments, and I saw something in her expression...a flicker of uncertainty, maybe even resentment."

"Do you think she moved here just for Olivia's tennis career?" Chelsea asked.

"I think that's part of it. Olivia is genuinely talented, by all accounts. But..." Maggie hesitated. "Jeff has always been intensely focused on the children's achievements. Sometimes I wonder if he sees them as extensions of himself rather than individuals with their own desires."

"And you think Lauren is caught in the middle?"

"I think she wants to support her daughter's potential while also ensuring she has a normal childhood. And I'm not sureJeff sees the value in balance." Maggie sighed. "But that's their marriage, their family. It's not my place to interfere."

They walked in silence for a moment, their feet leaving parallel tracks in the wet sand that were quickly erased by the incoming tide.

"After Merritt left," Maggie continued finally, "I kept thinking about what she said—about building her life around her mother's illness, about losing herself in others' needs and expectations. And it made me wonder about my own children. About how my life, my choices, my...my illness might have shaped their paths."

"Ah," Chelsea said with sudden understanding. "So this isn't just about Lauren. It's about all of them."

Maggie nodded. "When I had breast cancer, they all put their lives on hold in various ways."

"Because they love you," Chelsea pointed out. "Not because you demanded it."

"I know that. But love creates its own obligations, doesn't it? Merritt loves her mother too. That didn't make the sacrifice any less real or difficult."

A brown pelican swooped low over the water ahead of them, plunging suddenly into the Gulf and emerging with a fish wriggling in its pouch. The successful hunter flapped away, leaving barely a ripple to mark its passage.

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