Page 77 of Captiva Café

Once Lily had skipped off to another part of the house, Lauren turned to face Maggie directly. The professional façade slipped, revealing exhaustion beneath.

"Why are you really here, Mom?" she asked quietly. "And don't tell me it's just to see the house."

Maggie took a deep breath. "Your grandmother is worried about you. She says you've been confiding in her during your video chats, that you cried when she asked about your marriage?—"

"She had no right to tell you that," Lauren interrupted, color rising in her cheeks. "Those conversations were private."

"She's worried," Maggie repeated. "And now that I see you, I'm worried too. You've lost weight, Lauren. You look exhausted. And you're not returning my calls."

"So you wouldn't have visited if Grandma didn't tell you to?" Lauren asked, her voice taking on a bitter edge. "Great. I'm so glad to be a task on your to-do list."

"That's not fair," Maggie countered, stung by the accusation. "Paolo and I would have come together sooner, but things have been absolutely crazy at the inn. Your grandmother's YouTube videos have us booked solid through Thanksgiving, and we're understaffed for the demand."

"The inn." Lauren nodded as if confirming something to herself. "It's always about the inn, isn't it?"

"That's not true?—"

"Isn't it?" Lauren challenged, her voice rising slightly before she caught herself, glancing toward the doorway where Lily had disappeared. She lowered her voice. "Every time I call, you're in the middle of something. Every time I visit, you're handling a crisis or checking in guests or training new staff. Even when I brought Daniel last week just to see you, you barely had time for a hello."

The accusation hit Maggie like a physical blow. "Lauren, I?—"

"No, it's fine," Lauren cut her off, turning away too busy herself at the sink, rinsing Lily's plate with more force than necessary. "I get it. The inn is your life. It's your dream, your purpose. I'm happy for you, really. But don't pretend you would have noticed anything was wrong if Grandma hadn't pointed it out."

Maggie felt the words like a physical blow. She placed her hands on the kitchen counter to steady herself, taking a moment before responding.

"Lauren, I had no idea you felt that way," she said softly. "I never meant to make you feel like you weren't a priority."

Lauren kept her back turned, her shoulders rigid. "It doesn't matter."

"It clearly does matter," Maggie countered gently. "Please, talk to me. What's really going on? Is it your marriage? Are you and Jeff having problems?"

Lauren let out a humorless laugh, finally turning to face her mother. "Jeff and I are having small disagreements about everything lately. But it's not what Grandma probably told you."

"Then what is it?" Maggie asked, trying to keep her voice level, non-judgmental.

Lauren leaned against the counter, her arms crossed protectively across her chest. "Jeff's biggest complaint—the thing we argue about most—is that I'm emotionally tethered to you."

"To me?" Maggie couldn't hide her surprise.

"Yes, to you," Lauren confirmed, her voice gaining intensity. "He says I compare myself to you all the time, that I feel like a failure if things don't measure up to the Maggie Wheeler Moretti standard of perfection."

"But that's?—"

"Is he wrong?" Lauren challenged. "Because the other night, when he said it, I couldn't even defend myself. I couldn't tell him he was wrong because he's not."

Maggie stepped closer, her heart aching at the pain in her daughter's eyes. "Lauren, I never wanted to be a standard you felt you had to live up to."

"Is that true?" Lauren asked, her voice cracking as tears began to well in her eyes. "Because you don't know what it's like to be considered Maggie Wheeler 2.0. My whole life, I've been compared with you by everyone. Teachers at school: 'Oh, you're Maggie Wheeler's daughter—we expect great things from you.' Friends of yours: 'Lauren, your voice and even mannerisms are just like your mother’s.' Even Dad, before he died, was always saying how much I reminded him of you."

The tears spilled over now, tracking down Lauren's cheeks. "And when you left for Florida, that perception didn't go with you. I was still living in Andover, as Maggie Wheeler's daughter. The perfect mother who overcame tragedy and rebuilt her life. How could I possibly measure up to that?"

Maggie reached for her daughter, but Lauren took a step back, needing to finish what she'd started.

"It's not something I'm doing on purpose," she continued, wiping angrily at her tears. "But it seems I've suffered from separation anxiety ever since you left Massachusetts. When you moved here with Sarah, started the inn, married Paolo—it was like you created this whole new life without us. Without me."

"Lauren, that was never my intention?—"

"I know that!" Lauren exclaimed, her voice rising before she caught herself and lowered it again, conscious of Lily in the other room. "Logically, I know that. You deserved happiness after what Dad put you through, and after he died. You deserved a chance to rebuild your life. But do you have any idea how hard it was to watch you thriving down here while I was trying to raise my own family, build my own career, all while constantly being reminded of how much easier you made everything look?"

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