Page 79 of Captiva Café

CHAPTER 28

Maggie crossed Sanibel's Periwinkle Way, her mind still processing the raw, emotional conversation with Lauren. After helping make chicken soup with Lily—a simple activity that had somehow managed to ground all of them—she had stayed through Daniel waking from his nap, playing with both children while Lauren took some time to compose herself.

They had agreed to talk again soon, with Lauren promising to be more honest about her struggles moving forward. Before leaving, Maggie had even spoken briefly with Jeff on the phone, arranging a dinner at the inn the following weekend—a chance for the adults to talk without little ears listening.

Now, instead of driving straight back to Captiva, Maggie found herself turning onto the quiet street where Sarah and Trevor lived. Maggie hadn't called ahead. After her experience with Lauren, part of her was newly conscious of imposing her presence unannounced. But another part—the mother who was still reeling from revelations about her impact on her children's lives—needed to see Sarah's face when she asked questions that couldn't wait for scheduled phone calls.

She parked in the driveway behind Trevor's truck and sat for a moment, gathering her strength. The emotional toll of the day had left her drained, but there was one more conversation she needed to have before returning to the inn.

Maggie knocked lightly and waited. Moments later, Sarah appeared, Little Maggie balanced on her hip. Her expression registered surprise, then immediate concern.

"Mom? Is everything okay?"

"It depends on your definition of 'okay,'" Maggie replied with a tired smile. "Do you have a few minutes to talk?"

Sarah studied her mother's face, then nodded. "Of course. Trevor's got the kids in the back, building sandcastles. Come in."

Maggie followed her daughter into the airy living room, where toys were organized into colorful bins and family photos lined the walls—a home that managed to be both stylish and genuinely lived-in.

"Let me just put Little Maggie down for her nap," Sarah said. "She's overdue, which explains the thumb-sucking and the death grip on my shirt. Make yourself comfortable."

While Sarah disappeared down the hallway with the toddler, Maggie sank onto the comfortable sectional sofa, her eyes drawn to a recent family portrait on the coffee table. Trevor and Sarah stood on the beach at sunset, their three children arranged around them, everyone laughing at something off-camera. The authentic joy captured in the moment made Maggie's heart ache with a complicated mix of pride and wistfulness.

Sarah returned a few minutes later, carrying two glasses of iced tea. "She went down without a fight. Small miracles." She handed one glass to Maggie and settled beside her on the sofa. "You look exhausted. What happened?"

"I went to see Lauren today," Maggie began, watching her daughter's face carefully. "After my conversation with your grandmother yesterday, I was worried."

Sarah nodded, her expression revealing nothing yet. "How is she?"

"Not good," Maggie admitted. "She's lost weight, she's anxious, and she's been keeping some significant struggles to herself."

Sarah sighed, setting her glass down on a coaster. "I was afraid of that."

"You knew?" Maggie asked, a hint of accusation creeping into her voice despite her best intentions.

Sarah gave her mother a measured look. "I suspected. Lauren and I talk, but you know how she is—always presenting the edited highlight reel of her life, especially to family."

"But you knew she was struggling and didn't tell me?"

"Mom," Sarah said gently, "it wasn't my place to tell you about Lauren's marriage or her emotional state. And honestly, I wasn't sure exactly what was wrong. I just knew something was off."

Maggie took a sip of her tea, buying time to process this. "Did you know she's been comparing herself to me her entire life? That she feels like she lives in my shadow?"

Something flickered across Sarah's face—recognition, but not surprise. "Lauren's always been that way, even back in Massachusetts. She's always measured herself against you—your success, your strength after Dad died, the way you rebuilt your life. She's always been harder on herself than anyone else could ever be."

"Why didn't I see it?" Maggie asked, the question directed as much at herself as at Sarah.

"Because she didn't want you to," Sarah replied simply. "Lauren's always been determined to appear perfect, especiallyto you. It's her thing—presenting the successful daughter who has it all together."

Maggie stared out the window, watching palm fronds sway in the gentle afternoon breeze. "She told me that part of the reason they moved to Florida was to be closer to me. That she's been suffering from some kind of separation anxiety since I moved here with you after your father died."

Sarah was quiet for a moment, considering this revelation. "That makes sense, actually. Lauren took it hardest when you decided to stay in Florida permanently. She never said it directly, but I could tell she felt...abandoned, maybe? Even though she was an adult with her own family by then."

The word "abandoned" hit Maggie like a physical blow. Had she abandoned her children by choosing to rebuild her life on Captiva? The thought did occur to her at first, but everyone seemed so established in their own lives, so independent. She’d long ago put that guilt in the back of her mind.

Sarah must have read the distress on her face, because she quickly added, "That's not quite the right word. More like...she felt the family center had shifted, and she wasn't sure where she fit anymore."

Maggie turned to look directly at her younger daughter, a new question forming. "Sarah, is that why you moved here initially? To be close to me? Did you feel abandoned too?"

---