Page 69 of Captiva Café

"So you're worried that Lauren's unhappiness now might somehow connect to choices she made because of you in the past?" Chelsea asked, cutting to the heart of the matter. "That's quite a leap, Maggie."

"Is it?" Maggie countered. "After Daniel died, I moved here with Sarah. Started the inn. Built a new life. Got married again. The rest of my children, they all had to adjust to their mother relocating hundreds of miles away. To a new family structure. Then when I got sick, they had to reorganize their lives again."

"That's called being a family," Chelsea said firmly. "Life happens. We adjust. We show up for each other. Your children are adults who make their own choices."

"But what if those choices are limited by the patterns we establish early on? What if Lauren learned from watching me that women are supposed to be the adaptable ones, the ones who make everything work regardless of the cost to themselves?"

Chelsea stopped walking and turned to face her friend directly. "Maggie Moretti, are you honestly suggesting that you—one of the most independent, determined women I know—somehow taught your daughter to be a doormat? The woman who brought an inn back to life on an island after her husband died? Who beat cancer and came back stronger than ever? Who routinely stands up to Linda St. James without breaking a sweat?"

Maggie couldn't help smiling slightly at this characterization. "When you put it that way, it does sound a bit absurd."

"It sounds completely absurd," Chelsea corrected. "Your children had a front-row seat to watching their mother rebuild her life on her own terms. If anything, you've taught them that it's never too late to change course, to prioritize your own joy."

They resumed walking, the water occasionally washing over their feet as the tide gradually rose.

"Maybe you're right," Maggie conceded after a thoughtful silence. "But that still doesn't explain why Lauren isn't returning my calls. Or why she seemed so...subdued when she was here last."

"There could be a thousand explanations that have nothing to do with her fundamental life choices," Chelsea pointed out. "Maybe she and Jeff had an argument. Maybe Olivia's strugglingto adjust to her new training schedule. Maybe little Daniel is teething again."

"Or maybe she regrets moving here," Maggie countered. "Maybe she's realizing that uprooting her entire family for Olivia's tennis career wasn't the right decision."

"Then she'll figure that out and make adjustments," Chelsea said pragmatically. "Just like you taught her to do by example."

They had walked quite a distance down the beach, approaching the rocky outcropping that marked the boundary of the public access area. By mutual agreement, they turned and began making their way back toward the inn.

"I just wish she'd talk to me," Maggie said after a while. "Even if it's just to say she's fine and I'm overreacting."

"Give her time," Chelsea advised. "Lauren's always processed things internally before sharing them. Remember when she and Jeff were first dating? You didn't even know he existed until they'd been together for three months."

Maggie laughed at the memory. "She showed up for Sunday dinner and casually mentioned that she'd invited her boyfriend. I nearly dropped the roast."

"Exactly. Lauren reveals things in her own time, in her own way."

They walked in silence for a while, the sun warm on their shoulders, the sound of the waves a soothing backdrop to their thoughts.

"You know what I think?" Chelsea said finally. "I think Merritt's situation touched a nerve not because it reflects some failure in your mothering, but because it made you confront the universal truth that we can never fully protect our children from pain or difficult choices—no matter how much we might want to."

Maggie considered this. "That's...surprisingly insightful, Chelsea."

"I have my moments," Chelsea replied with a grin. "Usually between inappropriate comments and meddling in other people's romances."

As they approached the path leading back to the inn, Maggie paused, turning to look out at the Gulf one last time. The water stretched to the horizon, vast and changeable yet somehow constant—much like the love between parent and child, evolving through seasons of life but never diminishing.

"Thank you for the kidnapping," she said to Chelsea. "I needed this more than I realized."

"That's what friends are for," Chelsea replied, linking her arm through Maggie's as they headed up the path. "Forcible extractions from spiral thinking, followed by philosophical beach walks."

"And tomorrow? Mimosas and celebration of our Linda victory?"

"Absolutely," Chelsea confirmed. "And if Lauren hasn't called by then, we'll strategize. Maybe we'll drive up to Sarasota and surprise her. Or send Paolo with a basket of those chocolate croissants she can never resist."

"Let's not get ahead of ourselves." Maggie laughed, though the idea was tempting. "One more day of patience first."

As they reached the inn, Oliver could be seen through the window, efficiently checking in an elderly couple who appeared to be among the early arrivals. The sight of the inn functioning perfectly well without her immediate supervision was both a relief and a gentle reminder that perhaps she didn't need to carry quite as much as she sometimes thought.

Perhaps the same was true of her children—capable of navigating their own lives, making their own choices, finding their own paths back to joy when necessary. Even Lauren, her most private, self-contained child, had resources beyond what Maggie could see from the outside.

"One hour exactly," Chelsea announced, checking her watch as they climbed the porch steps. "I told Oliver we'd have you back by then. How do you feel?"

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