Page 74 of Captiva Café

"Not much," Sarah admitted. "She wiped her tears, put on that brave face she's perfected, and changed the subject. But something is very wrong there. I can feel it."

Maggie's mind raced back through recent interactions with Lauren. The unexpected visit to the inn. The way she'd seemed disappointed when Maggie had been too busy to sit down with her. The forced brightness in her voice when talking about their new home in Sarasota.

"I've been calling her," Maggie said quietly. "She hasn't been answering. I just thought she was busy with the move, with getting the kids settled," Maggie said, a note of desperation in her voice. "I never imagined?—"

"You've been distracted," Sarah interrupted, but her tone held no accusation. "Running this inn, managing all these guests, helping that young woman from Maine—Merritt, was it? You've been taking care of everyone else. But sometimes, the people closest to us are the ones we stop really seeing."

Maggie felt tears prick at the corners of her eyes. "What do I do, Mom?"

Sarah reached across the table again, this time taking both of Maggie's hands in hers. "You go to her. Don't call, don't text. Drive to Sarasota and show up at her door. Make her tell you what's happening."

"But the inn?—"

"The inn will survive without you for a day," Sarah said firmly. "Paolo and the staff are more than capable. This is your daughter, Maggie. Something is broken in her life, and she needs her mother, even if she doesn't know how to ask."

Maggie nodded slowly, the knot in her stomach transforming into a ball of determination. "You're right. I'll go tomorrow. First thing."

"Good," Sarah said, squeezing Maggie's hands before releasing them. "And Maggie? When she does tell you what's happening, just listen. Don't try to fix it right away. Sometimes what we need most is simply to be heard."

Coming from a woman who had built a second career on talking, the advice carried particular weight. Maggie felt a rush of gratitude for her mother's sharp eyes and sharper instincts, even as she processed the worry about what might be happening in Lauren's life.

"Now," Sarah said, reaching for her teacup again, her tone lightening slightly. "I promise to be more considerate about how I feature the inn in my videos. And in return, you promise to pay closer attention to your daughter. Deal?"

"Deal," Maggie agreed, managing a small smile despite her concern.

"Excellent." Sarah nodded decisively. "And perhaps, when you've sorted things with Lauren, you might consider joining me for a special episode. Nothing about grief or widowhood—just a mother-daughter exploration of Captiva's best shell-collecting beaches. My viewers would love it, and it might be fun."

Maggie laughed despite herself. "One problem at a time, Mom."

"Fine, fine," Sarah conceded with a dramatic sigh. "But the offer stands."

As they finished their breakfast, Maggie's thoughts were already turning to Lauren, mentally rearranging tomorrow's schedule to allow for a trip to Sarasota.

Maggie suddenly understood what had happened here.

“Mom, you came back to Florida for this, didn’t you?”

Her mother winked and returned her attention to her pancakes. “Hitting you over the head about something isn’t as easy through the computer.”

Maggie chuckled and then jumped up to kiss her mother on the cheek. She had come to this meeting intending to set boundaries with her mother about the inn, never expecting that her mother would be the one to redirect her focus to what truly mattered.

It was a reminder that sometimes, the wisdom of mothers—even YouTube-famous, boundary-pushing ones—ran deeper than their daughters might expect. And that sometimes, the most important business wasn't business at all, but the invisible threads that connected their hearts across generations.

CHAPTER 27

As her mother’s car disappeared down the driveway, Maggie stood in front of the carriage house for several long moments, her mother's words echoing in her mind.She cried, Maggie. Actually cried when I asked how the move to Florida was going for their marriage.

With a heavy heart, Maggie walked to the garden, where Paolo knelt beside a row of herbs, his hands working the rich soil with practiced ease. Even after all these years, the sight of him—so content, so present in whatever task occupied him—brought a rush of gratitude. He glanced up as her shadow fell across the garden bed, his smile fading as he took in her expression.

"What's wrong?" he asked, setting aside his trowel and rising to his feet in one fluid motion.

Maggie sank onto the nearby bench, suddenly feeling the weight of the morning's revelations. "I need to go to Sarasota tomorrow. To see Lauren."

Paolo brushed the soil from his hands and sat beside her, concern evident in his eyes. "Is everything all right?"

Maggie felt tears threatening and blinked them back. She shook her head. "No. I don't think it is."

"What’s happened?" His voice was gentle, his hand finding hers with the instinctive way he had of offering comfort just when she needed it most.

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