Chapter 12
CHAPTER 12
M aggie returned to Dr. Renolt’s office and sat patiently in the waiting room. Her meeting with Gretchen Potter gave her hope that there was only good news to come. Even with her optimism, she couldn’t keep her leg from bouncing up and down.
It was late in the day when Dr. Renolt came out into the waiting room to get her.
“Hey Maggie, come on in.”
She jumped out of her chair much faster than she’d expected, the adrenaline taking over.
She followed the doctor down the familiar hallway, her heart pounding slightly faster with each step. The clinical scent of antiseptic filled her nostrils, reminding her of the many times she had walked this path before. This time felt different, though—she had come prepared for good news, but there was still lingering anxiety, the what-if that never quite went away.
Dr. Renolt led her into the exam room and gestured for her to take a seat on the exam table. He settled into his chair across from her, his expression calm but serious.
“How have you been feeling?”
“Great, actually,” Maggie replied. “I've been keeping busy, staying positive. I’m ready for the next steps.”
Why did I say that? It sounds like I know the MRI showed cancer.
“Next steps? Okay, well, here’s the thing. I’m still not certain this isn’t cancer. The MRI was inconclusive, and in my opinion, I think the wisest course of action is to do a biopsy. I know this isn’t what you wanted to hear, but I know you would agree with me that we want to be absolutely certain. Am I right?”
Maggie’s heart sank a little at his words, but she quickly composed herself.
“I agree. Better safe than sorry, right?”
“Exactly,” Dr. Renolt said with a reassuring smile. “How long has it been since you’ve eaten anything?”
“Just breakfast this morning. I had a meeting and I wasn’t hungry.”
“Good. We’ll use a local anesthetic, but I always feel it’s best if there’s been several hours since you’ve eaten. I don’t expect any reactions.”
Maggie took a deep breath. “Okay, let’s do it.”
“Good. I’m going to have my nurse come in and give you a gown to put on. She’ll be in the room with us during the procedure. Is that all right with you?”
Maggie nodded. “Yes, that’s fine.”
He got up from his chair. “Great. I’ll be back in a few minutes and we’ll get this thing done.”
As he left, the nurse entered the room and handed Maggie a hospital gown.
“How are you doing, Ms. Moretti?”
“I’m fine, thanks,” she said. It wasn’t true, but she smiled, remembering her mother’s answer when people asked her how she was feeling.
“I’m fine unless you want the details.”
“Are you looking forward to Christmas?” the nurse asked.
Maggie nodded. She couldn’t muster the energy to answer.
Does this young lady understand that the Christmas spirit left the room the minute she handed me that ugly hospital gown?
“That’s great.”
Dr. Renolt returned, and the nurse pulled a tray of instruments next to her.
“All right, Maggie. I want you to lay down and put your right hand behind your head. You’re going to feel a little sting as I inject the local anesthetic. This will numb the area so you’re more comfortable.”
She watched as he drew the anesthetic into a syringe, her eyes following the movement of his hands. She felt a slight prick as the needle entered her skin, followed by a cold sensation spreading through the area as the anesthetic took effect.
“How are you doing?” Dr. Renolt asked.
“I’m okay,” she answered, and then looked at the nurse. The woman’s teeth were the whitest Maggie had ever seen, and she wondered how many hours of brushing and flossing could produce such whiteness. It was a random observation, the kind that Chelsea usually mentioned in moments of stress. She smiled, thinking of her friend, and how, if she were here, would be bold enough to ask the nurse about her teeth.
Maggie’s mind wandered. Christopher and Becca would arrive in two days, and preparing for the book club get-together was mostly done. She wondered when Sarah would come to the carriage house and wrap her children’s Christmas presents, and when she might get around to wrapping hers.
“Okay, Maggie, we’re ready to begin,” the doctor said, breaking her from her thoughts. He positioned the biopsy needle at the site of the lump. “You might feel some pressure now.”
Maggie held her breath as she felt the needle press into her skin. There was a slight pinch, followed by a deep pressure that radiated through her armpit. It wasn’t exactly painful, but it was uncomfortable and she wanted to cry.
“You’re doing great,” Dr. Renolt said, his voice steady and calming. “Just a little more.”
As he finished extracting the cells, Maggie tried to think of anything but what was happening, and she was upset with herself for not bringing Paolo with her, especially since she now had to drive herself home.
“All done,” he said. “You handled that like a pro.”
“Well, it wasn’t my first time,” she joked.
He nodded. “Indeed. I’m going to have my nurse bandage this, and you’ll probably feel a dull ache on and off for the next day. You have someone to drive you home?”
She nodded. It was a small lie, but there wasn’t anything she could do about it now.
“The biopsy results should be back in a few days. I’ll do my best to speed things up considering it’s so close to Christmas. I’ll give you a call as soon as I have them. I know you’ve heard me say this before but try not to worry too much.”
Maggie nodded. “Thank you, Doctor. I appreciate you being so thorough.”
As she left the office, Maggie tried to focus on the positive.
The MRI didn’t show cancer, or the doctor would have said so.
The biopsy was just another step, another piece of the puzzle. She had faced worse before, and she could face this too. Whatever the results were, she would deal with them—one day at a time.
When Maggie returned to the Key Lime Garden Inn, Paolo was waiting for her in the driveway. Initially worried that something must have gone wrong because she had been away for so long, he relaxed as soon as she texted him that she was on her way home.
“How did it go?” he asked as she got out of the car. “I’ve been a nervous wreck. What took so long?”
Maggie laughed. “Hang on, one question at a time.”
Maggie longed for quiet time and a hot bath but needed to update Paolo on her day. The tension in her neck and shoulder from the day gripped her and wouldn’t let go.
“Are you sure you’re all right?” he asked.
“I’m fine, I just need some down time to decompress.”
“I should have been with you at the hospital,” he said. “I hate that you had to drive yourself home after the biopsy.”
She reached for him, and they walked arm in arm into the carriage house.
“Oh, by the way, two things…Iris was looking for you this morning. I’m not sure what that was about, and she said not to bother you. Then, a little while later, Ciara stopped by. I told her where you were, and so she left you a message. Let me see if I can repeat this correctly. She said to tell you that Luke will help her carry stuff to the book club meeting so that he and Katie can be in the same room. She also said that Claire is casually mentioning Luke to Katie, but she doesn’t know what that means.”
Maggie chuckled but didn’t explain.
“What are you and my sister up to?” Paolo asked.
Maggie shook her head. “Never mind about that. My brain can’t deal with anything right now anyway. I just want some alone time with my husband, is that okay with you?”
Paolo smiled. “It sounds perfect.”
Crawford Powell sat across from his wife, Ciara, the flickering light of the television catching her eye. He was engrossed in his favorite show, a nostalgic dive into old movies, 1960s TV sitcoms, and anything that had to do with Hawaiian real estate. These were his escapes, his simple pleasures, and sitting comfortably in his well-worn recliner, he seemed at peace.
Ciara never understood the interest in the real estate show, when he’d never been to Hawaii, and they had no plans to go anytime soon. She, however, found no solace in American television. The exaggerated laughter, the predictable plots—it all grated on her.
Ciara much preferred the quiet company of a good book. When she wasn’t working, she would read from morning until night. Initially, she liked to think her obsession with words came from a desire to perfect her English, but over the years, reading had become so much more. Books transported her to places she might never visit, offering a world of adventure and excitement that contrasted with the slower pace of her own life. Although she never considered her life boring, the stories in her books provided an escape into a realm of possibilities that she found endlessly captivating.
Tonight, in an effort to keep her husband company, she had her earbuds firmly in place, drowning out the noise of the TV with the soothing voice of her audiobook narrator. She followed along in her physical book, and occasionally dug into Crawford’s bowl of popcorn.
Despite their differences in entertainment, there was a deep unspoken understanding between them. Ciara respected his love for his television shows, and Crawford, in turn, never complained about her reading habits. There was never a jealousy or need to control the other, and she attributed that to their love, but also the fact that they were older when they married, each set in their ways.
As she turned the page, Ciara couldn’t help but feel a pang of nostalgia. She and her brother, Paolo, had been so close growing up in Gaeta, Italy. Their father had been strict, insisting they learn multiple languages—English, Spanish, French and German—so they could excel in the world. Education was everything in the Moretti family, and their father’s rigorous demands had paid off.
She remembered countless hours spent with Paolo, practicing their English in the narrow, cobblestone streets of Gaeta, pretending they were Americans on holiday. It was a game at first, but as they grew older, it became more serious. By the time they moved to the United States, their English was nearly flawless, with only the soft lilt of their Italian accents giving away their origins.
They had both adapted quickly, embracing the challenges and opportunities of their new life. Paolo had thrived in America, but Ciara often longed for the simplicity of their childhood, for the days when their biggest worry was mastering a tricky English phrase.
Crawford stirred, pulling her out of her thoughts. He got up from his chair, stretching his arms above his head, before turning to look at her.
“I’m exhausted and ready for bed. How about you?”
Ciara glanced up from her book. “No, I’m wide awake. I think I’ll stay up and read for a bit more,” she replied.
He bent down and kissed her forehead.
“Sleep tight,” she said softly, watching him leave the room, the familiar creak of the floor echoing in the old building.
She waited a few minutes, listening to the sounds of Crawford moving around in the bedroom. When he finally settled in, it was quiet. Once she was sure he was in bed, she quietly got up from her chair, her movements deliberate and silent. She padded across the room, slipping through the door and making her way downstairs to the store.
The clock on the wall showed it was ten o’clock, and the store was dark, save for a small light near the front. She tiptoed to the cash register, her heart beating a little faster.
From the pocket of her bathrobe, she pulled out Meredith’s wedding invitation. As she unfolded it, she read the details again. The elegant script, the gold foil accents—it was a beautiful invitation, the kind that would be kept as a memento long after the wedding was over.
But as she scanned the date, a wave of guilt washed over her. Luke hadn’t responded by the RSVP deadline, and for the first time, she noticed how close the wedding was—only three weeks away. Was it too late for him to attend? Had she made a terrible mistake by keeping the invitation from him? What if her actions had caused more harm than good?
She had thought she was helping, giving Luke the space he needed, but now she wasn’t so sure. The thought of Meredith walking down the aisle without Luke there made her chest tighten. She needed to see him with Katie on his arm. She needed to see that she’d made a mistake leaving Luke.
Knowing that her stepson was to blame for the breakup pained Ciara, because she had come to love Meredith like she was a member of their family. She wanted to yell at Luke and hug him for his loss. Conflicted as she was, there was no going back, and she had to accept what was done.
With any luck, Claire and Maggie might help Luke get over losing Meredith and find that there are always new beginnings and the possibility of falling in love again.
She’d already asked Luke to help her carry food to this Sunday’s book club meeting at the Key Lime Garden Inn. It would be the perfect time to have Katie and Luke in the same room, even if it was for a brief moment. Match-making was something she’d never attempted in the past, but she felt Maggie and Claire knew how to manipulate the situation best.
Slowly, Ciara crouched down, and carefully removed a few items from the shelf below the counter. She slipped the invitation between two sheets of paper, pressing it flat, and placed the items back on top, hoping it would go unnoticed until the right moment.
As she stood up and turned to leave, Ciara paused for a moment, looking back at the darkened store. She had always been a planner, someone who thought things through from every angle. But tonight, she wasn’t so sure of her actions. Sometimes, even the best-laid plans didn’t go as expected. All she could do now was wait and see if fate would be kind, and that there truly was a cupid.