Chapter 13
I n the four days since Emma's return to Captiva Island, the Key Lime Garden Inn had reached full capacity.
The rooms brimmed with anniversary couples, solitude-seeking solo travelers, and—most surprisingly—an unsettling number of Grandma Sarah's YouTube followers who couldn't check in without reciting her monologues word for word.
The dining room buzzed with overlapping breakfast requests. Iris was out of flour. Oliver had burned a tray of bacon for the first time in years. Millie had gone silent behind the front desk, her headset blinking wildly as three calls came in at once.
"Take their information and tell them we’ll get back to them," Maggie muttered, “and be polite.”
At the same moment, the front door chimed with its pleasant jingle—the one Maggie had once loved for its charm but now felt like the opening gong of a stress-induced migraine.
"Surprise!"
Lauren's voice rang out like a trumpet in the middle of a symphony. She stood in the doorway wearing oversized sunglasses and a sundress that screamed Sarasota boutique, holding a bakery box in one hand and Daniel balanced on her hip with the other.
"Brought pastries!" she beamed. "Thought we'd have coffee, just the two of us."
Maggie didn't move. "Lauren. What are you doing here?"
Lauren blinked. "What do you mean? It's Wednesday. Jeff's got the girls so I figured I'd come down, see how things were going. You said last week you missed me."
"Yes," Maggie said slowly. "I did. But that doesn't mean I'm available for drop-in chats whenever you feel like driving down."
Lauren's face fell, the box of pastries suddenly heavy in her hand. "I just thought?—"
"I don't have time to think today," Maggie cut in, gentler now but firm. "Every room is full. The café construction is finally resuming and guests are asking questions I don't have answers for. You should've called first."
Daniel let out a small wail, as if echoing the tension in the room.
Maggie sighed and reached for her apron. "I'm not trying to be rude. But I can't sit down for coffee right now."
Lauren stared at her for a long beat. Then, without a word, she set the box of pastries on the reception counter and adjusted Daniel on her hip.
"Got it," she said tightly. "Won't bother you again."
And with that, she turned and walked out the door, the bell jingling behind her.
Maggie watched the door close, her mouth suddenly dry. A wave of guilt washed over her, but before she could process it, Millie appeared at her elbow, holding a notepad of messages.
"Mrs. Chen in Room 4 says the air conditioning isn't working properly, and the Galanis party wants to know if we can arrange a sunset cruise for tonight."
Maggie nodded mechanically, taking the notepad. "I'll call maintenance about Room 4. Please call Crawford Powell and see if you can book the cruise, then give the Galanis couple the details. I think they sail at 7:30 but confirm that with Crawford.”
But even as she spoke, her gaze kept drifting to the box of pastries Lauren had left behind. The cream-colored box with its simple gold sticker sat accusingly on the counter, a visual reminder of her harshness.
"Oh, Lauren left that," Millie added, following Maggie's gaze. "Want me to put it in the break room?"
"No," Maggie said opening the box to peek inside. "Give this to Oliver and then go ahead and make your calls."
When Millie disappeared to the kitchen, Maggie suddenly realized the pastries were her favorite Portuguese pastel de nada, and that Lauren’s visit wasn’t a casual drop-by. Her daughter had gone out of her way to make it special.
"I need to make a call," she announced to no one in particular as she headed toward her office.
Lauren gripped the steering wheel tighter than necessary, her jaw clenched as she turned off Captiva Drive and followed the narrow bridge across to Sanibel.
Daniel had fallen asleep in his car seat, his soft breathing the only thing calming her frayed nerves.
She wasn't even sure why she was so upset—her mother had always been direct. But this felt different. Sharper.
She hadn't expected a parade. Just a hug, maybe a cup of tea, a little porch time like they used to. A moment of connection. Instead, she'd been dismissed like a solicitor at the door.
When she pulled into Sarah's driveway, she didn't bother turning off the engine right away.
She sat in the car, staring at the neat row of potted herbs on the front steps, the wind gently swaying the lemon tree near the porch.
Then Daniel let out a little sigh in his sleep, and she exhaled too, popping the door open and grabbing his bag from the passenger seat.
Sarah opened the front door before Lauren had even knocked.
"Well, this is unexpected," she said with a warm smile, stepping out barefoot to help lift Daniel from the car seat. "What are you doing here?"
"I needed a sister," Lauren muttered, dragging the diaper bag over her shoulder and following Sarah into the house.
"Uh-oh," Sarah said, glancing sideways at her. "What happened?"
"Mom." That was all Lauren could manage at first. She dropped onto the oversized couch in Sarah's sunroom, as her sister settled Daniel gently in the portable bassinet Sarah kept stashed in the corner.
"I surprised her with pastries and her adorable grandson, and she acted like I was a Girl Scout trying to sell her cookies at 6 a.m."
Sarah raised a brow. "That bad?" she said as she handed Lauren a tall glass of iced tea.
"She told me I should have called first. That she doesn't have time for me right now. Said the inn was full and things were too busy."
"Well," Sarah said gently, "the inn is full, and things are busy. But still…she said that?"
Lauren nodded. "Like I was a stranger. Like I had no business showing up. I get that she's overwhelmed, but I moved my entire family down here to be closer to her. It's not like I live across the country."
Sarah sat down beside her. "Okay. First of all, I'm really sorry she snapped at you. That doesn't feel good, no matter how justified she thinks she is. Second...um...did I hear you correctly? You moved down here to be closer to Mom?”
Lauren’s facial expression went from anger to confusion. “What? No, of course not. You know what I mean. It’s just...I... It just isn’t like Mom to be so rude to her kids.”
Sarah laughed. “I guess you’re forgetting our teenage years. We thought she was being rude back then, and I hate to say it but you’re acting a bit childish.”
Lauren jumped up from the sofa but Sarah grabbed her dress and pulled her back down.
“Okay, hang on a minute. You obviously came to see me because you wanted me to agree with you and complain about how awful Mom was to you. I agree that she could have been less abrupt, but you have no idea what Grandma has put her through lately with her silly YouTube channel. Mom is so understaffed and over-booked, it’s crazy.
She and Paolo are doing everything they can to literally accommodate tons of people at the last minute.
I think you should cut her some slack. Not everything is about you.
..or any of her grown children...at least not right now. ”
Lauren stared at the ice cubes floating in her glass. "I just thought being nearby would mean more time together. But she acted like I was intruding on her life."
"You aren’t wrong to want that, Lauren," Sarah said, nudging Lauren with her shoulder. "You wanted connection. That's not a bad thing."
Lauren looked over at her sister, tears threatening at the corners of her eyes. "Did I make a mistake moving here?"
Sarah didn't answer right away. She leaned back, watching as Daniel began to stir in the bassinet, one tiny hand stretching above his head like he was reaching for something in a dream.
"First of all, your family moved here to give Olivia a chance at excelling in tennis. She’s a very lucky little girl that her parents were willing to move for her sake. Whatever else you thought would fix things by moving here, only you can answer that question.”
“Fix things? I don’t need to fix anything,” Lauren responded defensively.
Sarah smiled and nodded. “Okay then, you just hit a bump. Welcome to being closer to Mom. I hope you’ll be very happy here.”
Lauren let out a small laugh and leaned into her sister.
"Give her a day," Sarah added. "Let her decompress. Then show up again. Call first, sure—but don't pull away. She's just too wound up to see clearly right now."
Lauren nodded, more out of exhaustion than agreement. "I just wanted a quiet morning. Maybe walk the beach. Talk about how I'm adjusting. You know, normal stuff."
"Tell you what," Sarah said, standing up and heading for the kitchen. "How about we walk the beach? I'll text Trevor and let him know I'm taking a break. He can wrangle the chaos for a bit."
"You sure?"
"I'm positive. I do live at the beach, you know. It might not be a Captiva beach, but it’s still lovely."
Sarah opened the pantry, grabbed a thermos, started brewing a fresh pot of coffee, and filled a brown paper bag with banana muffins. She handed one bag to Lauren. "And this time, you don't have to share your pastries."
Lauren smiled. It wasn't the morning she'd planned—but maybe it was exactly what she needed.
Back at the inn, Maggie stared at her phone, thumb hovering over Lauren's contact. She'd already composed and deleted three different text messages, none of them adequate. How do you apologize for being rude without making excuses?
The inn felt overloaded and the usual quiet and quaint feel of the inn was lost, making Maggie feel more like the owner of a hotel instead of a bed & breakfast.
None of that was Lauren's fault. But all of it had conspired to make Maggie feel like she was being crushed under expectations she couldn't possibly meet.
A knock at her office door pulled her from her thoughts.
"Come in," she called, setting her phone down.
Oliver poked his head in. "Got a minute?"
"Barely," Maggie replied, but she motioned for him to enter. "What's up?"
"Just wanted to let you know I've got breakfast under control now. And I thought you might want these." He placed a small plate on her desk with two pastel de nada pastries.
"Millie mentioned Lauren brought them. Thought you might want to enjoy one before they disappear."
Maggie looked at the pastries, then up at Oliver's kind face. They'd known each other going on eighteen months, but in all that time, he'd never once judged her for her occasional sharp edges.
"I was awful to her, wasn't I?" she asked quietly.
Oliver leaned against the doorframe. "Awful's a strong word. But yeah, you probably could've handled it better."
"I don't know how to do this," Maggie admitted, gesturing vaguely at the space around her. "I suddenly feel like everything is out of control. On top of all that, I need to tread lightly with my mother. I know she means well, and truthfully, this isn’t a bad problem to have. What bed & breakfast owner gets upset at having every room booked for months?”
Oliver smiled. "You’re overwhelmed because you're trying to do everything perfectly, which is impossible. The inn will survive if you take an hour off to have coffee with your daughter."
"I know that." Maggie sighed. "Logically, I know that. But in the moment..."
"In the moment, you panic," Oliver finished for her. "Been there. Remember when the health inspector showed up the same day as that wedding reception for the senator's daughter? I nearly threw a spatula at Iris when she asked me about the canapés."
Maggie smiled weakly at the memory. "You did throw a spatula. You just missed."
"The point is," Oliver continued, "we all lose our cool when we're overwhelmed. The trick is figuring out how to make it right afterward."
"Any suggestions?" Maggie asked, picking up one of the pastries.
"Actually, yes." Oliver smiled. "Eat your breakfast, handle the most urgent things, and then take the afternoon off. Go see Lauren. Bring the remaining pastries as a peace offering."
Maggie hesitated. "We're fully booked. Millie can't?—"
"Millie can handle the desk for a few hours," Oliver interrupted gently. "And Iris and I can handle any guest issues that come up. This place doesn't actually fall apart when you're not here, you know."
The statement hung in the air between them, both knowing it wasn't entirely true. The inn did function better with Maggie at the helm—she had a way of anticipating problems before they arose, of soothing disgruntled guests with a perfect blend of charm and authority.
But it wouldn't collapse in her brief absence, either.
"Okay," she said finally. "I'll go this afternoon. After I deal with the air conditioning in Room 4 and call the photographer about tomorrow."
Oliver nodded, satisfied. "Good. And while you're out, I'll handle the menu planning for the weekend. We've got that shellfish delivery coming in, and I've been wanting to try something new with the grouper."
Maggie took a bite of the pastry, letting the buttery layers melt on her tongue. It reminded her of countless mornings with Lauren over the years back in Massachusetts—birthday breakfasts, holiday preparations, quiet moments stolen between the chaos of raising children.
"Thank you," she said simply.
Oliver just smiled and backed out of the office, closing the door behind him.
Alone again, Maggie picked up her phone and typed a quick message to Lauren: I'm sorry about this morning. Can I stop by Sarah's this afternoon? I'll bring the pastries.
Then she set it down and turned to her computer, pulling up the maintenance request form.
A text from Lauren made her smile: How did you know I’d be at Sarah’s?
Maggie answered right away: Because I know my daughters.
She'd allow herself exactly one hour to get through the most critical tasks. And then she would go make things right with her daughter.
Because at the end of the day, no matter how busy the inn got or how many problems cropped up within the island community, family was still the most important thing. She just needed the occasional reminder of that fact.