Chapter 5
Maggie sat on the cream-colored sofa with a cup of tea cooling in her hands watching her best friend pace back and forth in front of the coffee table like a woman preparing for battle.
“I've made a list,” Chelsea announced, holding up her phone. “Actually, I've made several lists. One for packing, one for the house, one for Stella, and one for things I need to tell Gretchen before we leave.”
“That's a lot of lists.”
“Organization is the foundation of successful travel. You taught me that.”
Maggie smiled, knowing that for all the advice she’d given over the years, Chelsea Marsden Thompson had given her far more in return.
“Read me the packing list,” Maggie said.
Chelsea scrolled through her phone. “Clothes for a week, maybe ten days depending on how things go.
Comfortable shoes because I know we'll be on our feet a lot. A nice outfit in case we go out to dinner. Pajamas. Toiletries. My good moisturizer because Massachusetts air is dry and my skin will revolt.”
“All sensible so far.”
“Snacks for the plane because airline food is a crime against humanity. A book, but let's be honest, I won't read it because I'll be too busy talking to you. Tissues, because there will be crying. Don't argue with me on that one.”
Maggie didn't argue. There would absolutely be crying.
The birth of her grandchildren, the farewell to the Andover house, the gathering of her children under one roof.
Each of those things alone would be enough to reduce her to tears.
Together, they formed a perfect storm of emotion that she was already bracing herself to navigate.
“What about the list for Gretchen?” she asked.
Chelsea's expression softened. Her sister Gretchen had become a fixture on Captiva over the past year, settling into island life with an ease that had surprised everyone, including Gretchen herself.
She and Isabelle Barlowe ran the Captiva Café together, and the little restaurant had become a beloved gathering place for locals and tourists alike.
“Mostly it's about Stella,” Chelsea said. “Feeding schedule, favorite sleeping spots, the specific brand of treats she likes, and a reminder not to let her outside no matter how pathetically she meows at the door.”
“Stella's an indoor cat? I didn’t realize that.”
“Stella is a pampered princess who has never touched grass in her life and would be eaten by the first pelican that spotted her. She stays inside.” Chelsea set down her phone and dropped onto the sofa beside Maggie. “Gretchen thinks I'm being overprotective.”
“You are being overprotective.”
“I'm being appropriately cautious. There's a difference.”
Maggie laughed and sipped her tea, which had gone lukewarm.
Outside, she could hear the distant crash of waves and the cry of seabirds.
Chelsea's house sat close to the beach, close enough that the salt air drifted through the windows on days when the breeze came from the west. It was a beautiful home, filled with light and carefully chosen furniture and the particular warmth that Chelsea brought to everything she touched.
“Where's Steven?” Maggie asked.
“On a call with a client in Tampa. He's got that development project heating up, and they want him on-site for most of next week.” Chelsea tucked her feet up under her.
“The timing actually works out perfectly.
He'll be traveling while I'm gone, so neither of us will be sitting in an empty house missing the other.”
“That is convenient.”
“I prefer to think of it as fate aligning in our favor.” Chelsea turned to face her more fully. “Speaking of which, how are you feeling about all this? And I don't mean the travel logistics. I mean the real stuff.”
Maggie set her tea on the coffee table and considered the question. Chelsea had a gift for cutting through the surface, for asking the questions that other people danced around. It was one of the things Maggie loved most about her, even when it made her uncomfortable.
“I'm excited about the babies,” she said slowly. “That part is pure joy. Beth has wanted this for so long, and Gabriel is going to be such a good father. I can't wait to hold them.”
“But?”
“But the house.” Maggie paused, searching for the right words.
“The house is complicated. I thought I had made my peace with selling it.
I moved here, I built a new life, I told myself that chapter was closed.
But now that we're actually doing it, going through the rooms, sorting through everything, saying goodbye...it feels bigger than I expected.”
Chelsea nodded, her expression understanding. “You raised your children there.”
Maggie nodded. “ Every room has a memory. Every corner has a story.” Maggie looked down at her hands, at the wedding ring she wore, though it was Paolo's ring now, not Daniel's.
“I keep reminding myself that the memories aren't in the walls.
They're in me, in my children, in the family we became.
Selling the house doesn't erase any of that.”
“But it still hurts.”
“It still hurts.”
Chelsea reached over and squeezed her hand.
“That's why I'm coming with you. Not just for emotional support, though there will be plenty of that.
But because you shouldn't have to carry this alone.
Paolo will be there, your children will be there, but I know you.
You'll spend all your energy taking care of everyone else and forget to let anyone take care of you.”
Maggie felt her eyes sting. “You know me too well.”
“That's what best friends are for.” Chelsea sat back, her tone lightening.
Maggie laughed, the tightness in her chest easing slightly. This was why she needed Chelsea on this trip. Not just for support, but for perspective. For the ability to find humor in the hard things and lightness in the heavy moments.
The front door opened, and Steven walked in, his phone still in his hand. He was a tall man, fit and tanned from years of living in warm climates, with silver hair and the kind of easy confidence that came from success in business and contentment in life. He smiled when he saw Maggie.
“Planning the great northern expedition?” he asked.
“Finalizing details,” Chelsea said. “How was your call?”
“Long. But productive.” He leaned down to kiss his wife's forehead. “The Tampa project is moving forward. I'll need to be there Monday through Thursday at least.”
“Which means you won't even notice I'm gone.”
“I'll notice.” He straightened and looked at Maggie. “You're in good hands with this one. She's already shown me five different packing configurations.”
“Only five?” Maggie said. “She's slacking.”
Chelsea threw a sofa pillow at her, which Maggie caught with a laugh.
Steven excused himself to shower and change, leaving the two women alone again.
The light had shifted while they talked, the afternoon deepening toward evening.
Soon Maggie would need to head back to the inn, to check on dinner preparations and make sure everything was running smoothly in her absence.
“Have you talked to Iris about covering while you're gone?” Chelsea asked, as if reading her thoughts.
“Yesterday. She's got it handled. Oliver will help, and Millie and Dottie are both available for extra hours. Ciara offered to stop by as well, in case they need anything.”
“That's wonderful.”
“It’s a load off my mind.” Maggie stood and walked to the window, looking out at the palm trees swaying in the evening breeze. “Paolo is worried about leaving Sanibellia for too long. The business has been growing, and March is a busy season for tourists wanting to explore the island.”
“Is he still coming?”
“Of course. Nothing could keep him away from his grandchildren being born. But he'll probably fly home early, after the birth, to check on things. He trusts his staff, but you know Paolo. He likes to have his hands in everything.”
Chelsea joined her at the window. “And Grandma Sarah? Is she really driving up in that RV?”
Maggie shook her head, half in disbelief and half in admiration. “She's determined. She called me this morning to confirm that Lauren and Sarah are both on board. They're leaving Sunday, stopping at hotels along the way, and should arrive a day or two after we do.”
“Three women in one RV. That's either going to be beautiful or a disaster. You’d think they’d learned a thing or two after Gabriel’s RV drive at Christmas.”
“According to my mother, Gabriel is a rookie and should have consulted her on the whole RV thing. I do understand why she wants to drive up though.” Maggie turned from the window.
“She wants to be there when we go through the house. She spent so much time in that house over the years, watching the kids grow up, helping out when things got hard. I think she feels like she has as much right to say goodbye as any of us.”
“She does.”
“I know. I just hope the drive doesn't wear her out. She's eighty years old after all.”
“Your mother has more energy than most people half her age. She'll be fine. And Lauren and Sarah will keep an eye on her.”
Maggie hoped that was true. Her mother had always been a force of nature, stubborn and opinionated and fiercely devoted to her family.
Age had slowed her body but done nothing to diminish her spirit.
If Sarah Garrison wanted to drive to Massachusetts in an RV, nothing short of divine intervention would stop her.
“When do we fly out?” Chelsea asked.
“Thursday morning. Paolo booked the flights yesterday for all three of us. We land in Boston around three, rent a car, and drive to Boxford. Beth's doctor says she could go any day now, so we want to be there before anything happens.”
“What if she goes into labor before Thursday?”
“Then we all get on the first available flight. Steven can manage without you for a few extra days if it comes to that.”
“He'd insist on it,” Chelsea agreed. “But let's hope the babies wait. I'd rather not experience airport panic if we can avoid it.”
“Beth seems to think they'll wait. She says they're too comfortable to leave.”
Chelsea laughed. “Smart babies. Why come out when you've got room service and a heated pool?”
“That's more or less what Beth said.”
They talked for another hour, going over details and timelines and the dozen small tasks that needed to be completed before Thursday.
Chelsea's lists grew longer and more detailed.
Maggie's tea went cold and was replaced with a glass of wine.
The sun sank lower, painting the sky in shades of orange and pink.
When Maggie finally stood to leave, Chelsea walked her to the door.
“Thank you,” Maggie said. “For coming. For all of this.”
“Are you kidding? I wouldn't miss it.” Chelsea hugged her tightly. “We're going to get through this together. The happy parts and the hard parts. That's what we do.”
Maggie held on for a moment longer than necessary, drawing strength from her friend's embrace. Then she stepped back, smiled, and headed out into the evening.
Maggie walked back to the inn, letting her thoughts wander.
She thought about Beth, huge and uncomfortable and waiting for her babies.
About Christopher and Becca, searching for a house that would become their home.
About Lauren and Sarah and her mother, plotting their great RV adventure.
About Michael and his family, who would join them for the gathering at the Andover house.
All her children, converging from different directions, drawn together by birth and loss and the invisible threads that connected them across distance and time.
The Key Lime Garden Inn glowed in the evening light, its windows warm and welcoming. She could see movement inside, guests settling in for the evening, Iris moving through the dining room with her quiet efficiency.
This was her home now. This beautiful, improbable place that she had built from grief and determination and a willingness to start over. Whatever happened in Massachusetts, whatever emotions the Andover house stirred up, she would return here. To Paolo, to the inn, to the life she had chosen.
The scent of something delicious drifted from the kitchen, garlic and herbs and the warm smell of fresh bread. Iris appeared in the doorway, wiping her hands on a towel.
“There you are. I was starting to wonder.”
“Just finalizing plans with Chelsea.” Maggie stepped inside, letting the warmth of the inn wrap around her. “Everything okay here?”
“Perfect. Dinner's almost ready, and all the guests have checked in. Oliver handled the couple in Room Four who wanted extra towels, and Millie restocked the breakfast supplies.”
“What would I do without you?”
Iris smiled, the lines around her eyes crinkling. “You'd manage. But you don't have to, so why worry about it?”
Maggie squeezed her arm in gratitude and headed for the kitchen, where she knew Paolo would be waiting. He stood at the stove, stirring something in a large pot, and looked up when she entered.
“How is Chelsea?” he asked.
“Prepared. She has lists.”
“Of course she does.” He set down the spoon and crossed to her, taking her hands in his. “And how are you?”
Maggie looked up at him, at this man who had come into her life when she least expected it and shown her that love could bloom in the most unlikely seasons. His eyes were warm with concern, with understanding, with the steady devotion that had become the foundation of her days.
“I'm ready,” she said. “Whatever comes next, I'm ready.”
He kissed her forehead. “Then so am I.”
They stood together in the kitchen, the sounds of the inn humming around them, and Maggie let herself believe it. She was ready. For the babies, for the house, for the goodbyes and the hellos and everything in between.
Thursday was coming. And after that, nothing would be quite the same.