Page 9 of Captiva Café

"Apparently that's me," Maggie said dryly. "Though I prefer just Grandma."

"I'm Merritt," she offered to Sophia, who was now arranging her silverware in precise alignment.

"That's a weird name," Sophia observed without looking up.

"Sophia!" Sarah exclaimed, settling Little Maggie onto a booster seat.

"It's okay." Merritt laughed. "It is kind of unusual. It was my grandmother's last name before she got married."

This seemed to satisfy Sophia, who nodded decisively before turning her attention to the basket of bread being placed onthe table. Little Maggie banged her hands on the table, clearly approving of the meal preparations.

Within minutes, the table filled with platters of grilled fish, a colorful salad, roasted vegetables, and bread still warm from the oven. The sound of a car door slamming announced new arrivals, and moments later, Chelsea appeared with Steven in tow, both carrying covered dishes.

"Sorry we're late," Chelsea called. "Linda cornered us outside the Chronicle office. She's practically frothing at the mouth about some historical artifacts found at the café site."

"Oh?" Maggie raised an eyebrow, accepting the dishes.

Steven nodded, pulling out a chair next to Paolo. "They found some interesting items during the floor demolition. Linda's already planning a front-page spread, but Isabelle is insisting on authentication first."

"Smart woman," Paolo commented, serving fish onto plates. "Linda would have the entire island believing they'd found Ponce de León's personal effects by tomorrow morning."

Merritt listened quietly, taking in the easy banter and familial shorthand. These people knew each other's rhythms, anticipated each other's thoughts. It was fascinating to observe—and slightly intimidating. The last family dinner she'd attended had been with her parents and David's family, planning wedding logistics with spreadsheets and timeline charts. This casual gathering felt like a different universe entirely.

"So, Merritt," Chelsea said, turning to her suddenly. "Maggie tells us you're from Maine. What brings you all the way to our little island?"

All eyes turned to her, curious but not unkind. Merritt took a sip of water, buying herself a moment.

"I needed a change of scenery," she answered finally. "I saw a few of Grandma Sarah's videos, and something about this place just...called to me."

"My grandmother has that effect on people," Sarah said with a laugh. "She makes everything sound like a grand adventure waiting to happen."

"What did you do in Maine?" Noah asked, reaching for a piece of bread.

"I taught elementary school," Merritt replied. "Music and general education."

"Do you play instruments?" Noah asked.

Merritt nodded. "Guitar, mainly. Some piano."

"She brought her guitar with her," Maggie added, passing the salad bowl. "I noticed when she checked in."

Merritt felt her cheeks warm. "Just for personal enjoyment. I haven't performed in years."

"You should play for us sometime," Chelsea suggested. "The café could use some live music once it opens."

"Oh, I don't—" Merritt began, but was saved by the arrival of a tall, athletic-looking man who must be Trevor, Sarah's husband.

"Sorry I'm late," he said, bending to kiss Sarah's cheek before ruffling Noah's hair. "Marco wanted to go over the historical assessment of the café building. Those artifacts they found have everyone excited."

The conversation shifted to the café discoveries, much to Merritt's relief. As the family discussed the possible significance of Spanish coins and Calusa pottery, she found herself relaxing into the warmth of the gathering. No one pressed her for more personal information or seemed to notice her reluctance to discuss her music.

After dinner, as Paolo and Noah cleared plates, Maggie touched Merritt's arm gently.

"There's key lime pie for dessert, but some of us are going to take our coffee down to the beach to watch the last of the sunset. Would you like to join us?"

The invitation was casual, with no pressure behind it. Merritt hesitated, then nodded. "I'd like that. Thank you."

Minutes later, she found herself walking down a sandy path through sea grapes and palms, following Maggie, Chelsea, and Sarah toward the water. Each woman carried a mug of coffee, and Maggie had pressed one into Merritt's hands as well, the ceramic warm against her palms.

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