Page 85 of Captiva Café

"And speaking of wonderful solutions," Chelsea said suddenly, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper as she nudged Maggie's arm, "look who just walked in. Together."

Maggie turned toward the door and felt her eyebrows rise in genuine surprise. Linda St. James had just entered the café—but it wasn't her presence that was noteworthy. It was the fact that Byron Jameson was by her side, his hand resting lightly at the small of her back in a gesture that could only be described as possessive.

Linda wore a dress Maggie had never seen before—a flattering navy blue with small white polka dots that actually showed her knees—and her hair had been freshly styled. Byron, for his part, had traded his usual fishing clothes for pressed khakis and a button-down shirt, his white beard neatly trimmed.

"Well, well," Chelsea murmured, unable to contain her delight. "Our island romance has gone public."

The couple paused just inside the entrance, surveying the crowded café as if looking for familiar faces. When Linda spotted Maggie’s table, she hesitated briefly before Byron leaned down to whisper something in her ear. After a moment, they began making their way over.

"Don't embarrass them," Maggie cautioned Chelsea under her breath.

"Would I ever?" Chelsea replied with mock innocence that fooled no one.

As Linda and Byron reached their table, Maggie smiled warmly. "Good morning, Linda. Byron. Lovely to see you both."

"Well, hello Linda," Chelsea added, barely suppressing a grin as she nudged Maggie with her elbow. "It's nice to see you. Hello Byron."

Linda's cheeks colored slightly, but she maintained her composure. "We thought we should support the café's opening. For the Chronicle, of course. I'll be doing a feature article."

"Of course," Maggie agreed solemnly, though her eyes twinkled. "The official island assessment."

"The place looks wonderful," Byron said, his gaze taking in the café with genuine appreciation. "Fine job of preserving the original character while making it functional."

"Would you like to join us?" Paolo offered, already moving to pull over additional chairs from a nearby table.

Linda and Byron exchanged a glance that contained an entire private conversation before Byron answered. "That would be nice, thank you."

As they settled into the expanded table arrangement, Maggie couldn't help noticing how Byron pulled out Linda's chair for her, and how Linda's expression softened when she looked at him. There was an ease between them that suggested this relationship, however new, had already developed its own comfortable rhythms.

"How are the scones?" Linda asked, nodding toward the half-eaten pastry on Maggie's plate. "I remember they were quite good at the inn."

"Excellent," Maggie confirmed. "And I hear the frittata is worth trying as well. They've hired a promising young chef."

Byron flagged down Gretchen, who approached their table with a welcoming smile. "What can I get for you?"

"Two coffees, please," Byron said. "One black for me, and one?—"

"With a splash of almond milk and just a hint of cinnamon," Linda finished for him. "And perhaps we could try the frittata everyone's talking about?"

"Coming right up," Gretchen assured them before heading back to the counter.

Chelsea, who had been watching this interaction with barely contained glee, could no longer restrain herself. "So, how long has this been going on?" she asked, gesturing between Linda and Byron.

Linda straightened her shoulders, as if preparing for a confrontation. "I don't know what you're?—"

"About a month," Byron interrupted calmly, placing his hand over Linda's on the table. "Though we've been dancing around it for longer than that, isn't that right, Linda?"

To everyone's surprise, Linda's posture relaxed and a smile—a genuine, unguarded smile—transformed her face. "Byron asked me to the summer concert series," she admitted. "After leaving honey jars on my doorstep for a month without signing his name. Anyway, we went and it was very nice."

"I thought a secret admirer might appeal to your investigative instincts," Byron explained with a twinkle in his eye.

"It was the wildflower honey that gave you away," Linda said, her voice softer than any of them had ever heard it. "You're the only one on the island who keeps that particular variety of bee."

"Caught red-handed," Byron agreed cheerfully.

The transformation in Linda was remarkable. The sharp-edged, perpetually disapproving newspaper editor had been replaced by a woman who smiled easily and whose eyes held a warmth that Maggie had never seen before.

"I think it's wonderful," Maggie said sincerely. "You both deserve happiness."

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