Page 75 of Captiva Café

"My mother thinks Lauren is having serious problems," Maggie explained, the words catching in her throat. "She says Lauren has lost weight, that she cried during their video call when Mom asked about her marriage. And now that I think about it, when she visited last week, she seemed...off somehow. I was just too busy with everything here to really notice."

Paolo's brow furrowed with concern. "And she's not returning your calls?"

"No. I've tried three times since her visit." Maggie squeezed his hand. "Mom says I need to go to her. Not call, not text. Just show up and make her talk to me."

"Your mother may be right," Paolo said, his thumb tracing soothing circles on the back of her hand. "Sometimes, the hardest things to say require a face looking back at you, not a screen or a phone."

"But the inn?—"

"Will survive without you for a day," Paolo finished for her, echoing Sarah's words from breakfast. "Millie, Oliver, Iris, and I have everything under control. Your daughter needs you."

Maggie leaned against his shoulder, drawing strength from his steady presence. "I don't even know what I'm walking into. What if Jeff and Lauren are having serious marriage problems? What if she's been hiding something major from all of us? I feel like I should be prepared, but I don't know how to prepare for something when I don't know what it is."

Paolo considered this for a moment, his expression thoughtful. "Perhaps that is the preparation—going with an open heart and ready ears, not a fixed idea of what you might find."

Maggie smiled. “I honestly don’t know what I’d do without you.”

Paolo put his arm around her. “You don’t have to worry about being without me, my love.”

She kissed his cheek. "I'll leave first thing in the morning. It's a little more than two-hours to get there, so I should be there before lunch."

"Take the day," Paolo said firmly. "Take two if needed. This isn't like you running an errand or meeting a supplier. This is your daughter."

Maggie nodded, already mentally preparing for what tomorrow might bring. She would need to talk to Millie about guests who had requested special accommodations. She was confident that her staff could handle whatever came their way.

"What can I do?" Paolo asked, reading her thoughts as he so often did.

"Just...be here," she replied. "Keep things running. And maybe say a little prayer that whatever is happening with Lauren, it's something we can help her through."

Paolo pressed a kiss to her temple. "Of that, I have no doubt. You've guided those children through much worse. And now they have the advantage of your mother's YouTube wisdom as well."

This prompted another small laugh from Maggie. "God help us all."

As they sat together in the garden, the afternoon sun warm on their faces, birds calling from the palms overhead, Maggie tried to center herself. Tomorrow would bring whatever it would bring. All she could do was show up, listen, and be the mother Lauren needed—whatever that might mean.

"I should go talk to Millie and the others," she said finally, rising from the bench.

Paolo nodded. "And I'll finish with these herbs, then work with Iris and Oliver on tonight’s dinner preparations.”

As Maggie walked back toward the inn, she felt equal measures of dread and determination. Something was wrong with her daughter's life, and she had missed it, distracted by the daily demands of the inn, by Merritt's situation, by her mother's YouTube antics. The guilt of that realization sat heavy in her chest.

But she would make it right. Tomorrow, she would drive to Sarasota, and she wouldn't leave until she knew exactly what was happening with Lauren. No matter what it was, they would face it together. That was what mothers did.

The two-hour drive to Sarasota gave Maggie too much time to think, to imagine every possible scenario she might be walking into. By the time she pulled into Lauren's neighborhood—an upscale community of Mediterranean-style homes with manicured lawns and palm-lined streets—her knuckles were white on the steering wheel.

Lauren and Jeff's new house was impressive: a sprawling single-story with terracotta roof tiles and a paved circular driveway where a basketball hoop stood at one end. Toys scattered across the front lawn spoke of children's active lives—Lily's bicycle propped against a tree, what appeared to be Olivia's tennis racket case on the front steps.

Maggie sat in her car for a long moment, gathering her courage. What exactly was she going to say?Your grandmother thinks you're in trouble. Are you?It sounded accusatory even in her head. But she hadn't driven all this way to turn back now.

With a deep breath, she got out of the car and walked up to the front door. The doorbell chimed inside—a melodic tune rather than a standard buzz—and she heard the patter of small feet approaching.

"Who is it?" came a child's voice from the other side of the door.

"It's Grandma," Maggie replied.

There was a squeal of delight, followed by the sound of little hands struggling with the lock. Then the door swung open to reveal Lily, her dark hair in messy braids, wearing pink, glittered socks and a t-shirt with a cartoon sea turtle on it.

"GRANDMA!" she launched herself at Maggie, wrapping skinny arms around her waist. "Mommy! Mommy! Grandma's here!"

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