Chapter 13
Merritt woke on Saturday morning with Paula's card still sitting on her nightstand.
She'd looked at it often, turning it over in her hands, thinking about a bungalow on the beach. French doors that opened onto the water. A place where she could breathe.
But today wasn't for decisions. Today was her day off and a date with the island of Captiva.
She showered, dressed in a sundress and sandals, and headed out before the bar opened. Justin was already downstairs, prepping for the lunch crowd, and he raised an eyebrow when he saw her.
“Day off?”
“Visiting Maggie. At the inn.”
“Tell her I said hello.” He grinned. “And don't let her talk you into moving to Captiva. I need you here.”
“No promises.”
The drive from Sanibel to Captiva never took long, but it always felt like traveling farther than the miles suggested.
Periwinkle Way wound west through the heart of Sanibel before becoming the island road that linked the two barrier islands.
Once she crossed Blind Pass, everything seemed to slow another notch.
Captiva felt smaller, quieter, almost hidden from the rest of Florida.
By the time she passed Andy Rosse Lane, golf carts rolled past beneath towering trees, music drifted from open-air restaurants, and the scent of sunscreen and saltwater floated in from the Gulf.
Merritt hadn't realized how much she needed this. A day away from the bar, away from the noise, away from the strange tension that had settled over her since Paula's visit.
The Key Lime Garden Inn appeared around a bend in the road, its pale yellow walls glowing in the morning light. Merritt pulled into the shell-covered driveway and sat for a moment, just looking at it. The wraparound porch. The rocking chairs. The hand-painted sign that read, “Welcome Home.”
It felt like home. That was the thing about this place. It did feel like home, from the very start.
She parked her car in front of the carriage house, climbed out of the car and headed toward the stairs leading to the back porch, but before she could reach it, a voice rang out from the garden.
“She lives!”
Merritt turned to see Chelsea striding toward her, arms outstretched, a wide grin on her face. Chelsea was tall and tan, with hair that had both highlights from the sun, and gray strands here and there.
“I was starting to think you'd forgotten about us,” Chelsea said, pulling her into a hug. “Maggie's been jumping up and down ever since you called to say you’d be by today.”
“I have not been jumping up and down.” Maggie appeared on the porch, wiping her hands on a dish towel. “I've been patiently waiting. There's a difference.”
“There's really not.” Chelsea released Merritt and stepped back, studying her face. “You look tired. Are you sleeping? Are you eating? Is that bar boy working you too hard?”
“That bar boy has a name.”
“Justin. I know. Maggie told me all about him.” Chelsea waggled her eyebrows. “Is he cute?”
“Chelsea.” Maggie's voice carried a warning, but her eyes were laughing. “Let the girl get inside before you interrogate her.”
Maggie hugged Merritt and then touched her face. “You look beautiful as always. Ignore Chelsea. So, how about some lemonade and pastries?”
“I’d love some.”
They ushered Merritt up the stairs to the porch.
“Sarah's here,” Maggie explained. “She brought the kids. Noah's been asking about the garden, and Sophia wanted to see the chickens, and little Maggie…” She paused, smiling. “Little Maggie wanted to see big Maggie.”
“She's three. She calls everyone Maggie.” A new voice joined them, warm and slightly exasperated. A young woman appeared in the doorway, blonde hair pulled back, a toddler balanced on her hip. “Including the chickens.”
“Maggie!” the toddler said, pointing at Merritt.
“See what I mean?”
Merritt laughed. “Hi, Sarah. It's good to see you.”
“You too.” Sarah shifted the toddler to her other hip and extended a hand. “Sorry we didn't get to meet properly last time. I was dealing with a Noah situation.”
“Noah situations are a full-time job,” Maggie said. “Speaking of which, where is he?”
“Trevor took him over to Powell Water Sports. They’re looking at snorkel equipment. Sophia's in the garden with Paolo, doing something involving dirt and worms.” Sarah shuddered. “I try not to ask.”
“Worms are educational.”
“Worms are disgusting. But sure, let's call it education.”
“Iris and Oliver are at the market, but they made a delicious new batch of lemonade for us,” Maggie said as they moved to the chairs on the porch.
They barely had a moment alone before Grandma Sarah joined them.
“Finally,” she said when she saw Merritt. “The prodigal bartender returns. I was starting to think Sanibel had swallowed you whole.”
“It almost did.” Merritt bent to kiss her cheek. “How are you, Grandma?”
“Old. Cranky. Suspicious of anyone who asks how I'm doing.” She patted Merritt's hand with surprising gentleness. “But it's good to see you, sweetheart. Sit. Eat. You're too thin.”
“She looks fine, Mother,” Maggie said.
“She looks thin. And tired. Is no one feeding her over there? Is no one making sure she sleeps?”
“I sleep,” Merritt said, though it wasn't entirely true. “And I eat. I'm fine, really.”
Grandma Sarah made a noise that suggested she didn't believe a word of it, but she let the subject drop. Merritt settled into a chair and accepted a glass of lemonade, feeling some of the tension drain from her shoulders.
Chelsea dropped into the chair beside her and propped her feet on the porch railing. “So. Tell us everything. How's the bar? How's the apartment? What’s happening with a romance between you and Justin?”
“Chelsea!” Maggie's voice was sharp.
“What did I say? Listen, Merritt and Justin are probably the only two people under thirty-five over there. Of course they’re going to be attracted to one another. I'm not trying to be nosy. Well, I am, but not in a mean way. I just want to know what's going on in her life.”
Chelsea turned to face Merritt. “Don’t let Maggie fool you. She wants all the gossip just as much the rest of us but is too afraid to ask you directly. So…?”
Merritt took a sip of her lemonade, considering how much to share.
These women had become something like family since she’d returned to Florida.
Maggie especially. She'd been the one to encourage Merritt to come to the islands in the first place, to take a chance on something new. She deserved honesty.
“The bar is good,” she said slowly. “The work is hard, but I like it. The regulars are wonderful. Justin is…” She hesitated, searching for the right word. “He's a good boss. A good person.”
“But?” Grandma Sarah's voice was gentle.
“But the apartment is…challenging.” Merritt set down her tea. “It's right above the bar. The noise carries. And the ceiling is low, and the light is bad, and I can't play my guitar without feeling like I'm bothering someone.”
“Wait.” Chelsea sat up straight. “You're playing your guitar again?”
“I am. At the bar, actually. Crocker, Justin's grandfather, asked me to play one night, and now I do it twice a week. Tuesday and Thursday.”
“Merritt, that's wonderful.” Maggie's face lit up. “Your mother would be so proud.”
“That's what my dad said.”
“Your dad is a smart man.” Grandma Sarah leaned forward, her sharp eyes bright with interest. “So you're playing music again. How does it feel?”
Merritt thought about it. About the way the music moved through her, loosening things she'd kept locked away. About Ray's face when she played, the way he turned toward her, the crack in his armor that opened a little wider each time.
“It feels like coming home,” she whispered, not realizing how quiet her voice was. “I didn't realize how much I'd missed it until I started again.”
“That's how it works with the things we love.” Grandma Sarah nodded sagely. “We bury them to survive. And then, when we're ready, we dig them back up again. They're always there, waiting.”
Sophia burst up the stairs and onto the porch, her hands covered in dirt, her face alight with triumph.
“I found a worm THIS big!” She held her hands about a foot apart. “Paolo said it was the biggest worm he'd ever seen!”
“That's…wonderful, sweetheart.” Sarah grimaced. “Please wash your hands before you touch anything.”
“But I want to show Noah!”
“Noah can see it after you wash your hands.”
Sophia considered this, then shrugged and ran into the house. A moment later, the sound of water running echoed from the kitchen.
“That child is feral,” Sarah said, but there was love in her voice. “I blame Trevor.”
“Trevor is wonderful, and you know it.” Maggie poured more lemonade for everyone. “Speaking of which, where is he?”
“Coming,” Trevor's voice drifted from the garden, followed by the sound of footsteps on the shell path. He appeared a moment later with Noah beside him, both of them slightly sunburned and windswept. “We got distracted by a pelican. Noah wanted to know why its beak was so big.”
“For catching fish,” Noah said, as if this were obvious. “It's like a net. Did you know they can hold three gallons of water in there?”
“I did not know that,” Merritt said. “That's impressive.”
Noah beamed and then looked at Merritt. “Mom says you can play guitar. I got one for Christmas but I don’t know how to play it.”
“Maybe Merritt can teach you,” Sarah said. “If she ever has time. She works and plays music at night at a place in Sanibel. Not too far from us.”
“I'd like that.” Merritt smiled at Noah. “I’ll talk to your mom, and we’ll find some time to have a lesson. I can show you some chords.”
“Can I, Mom? And can we go hear her play?”
“No, sweetie, children can’t go into the bar, but yes, you can have lessons. We’ll figure it out.”
“Maybe Merritt could play one night here on Captiva? Gretchen and Isabelle’s café has music sometimes. I bet their customers would love to hear you play.”
Chelsea looked at Merritt. “Gretchen is my sister. I can ask her if you’d like.”
“That would be wonderful, thank you.” She looked at Noah. “Then you could come and hear me play.”
Chelsea added, “In the meantime, how about we grownups come to hear you at Shorebirds?”
“Oh, I’d love that,” Sarah said. She looked at Trevor, who shrugged. “I don't see why not. We haven't had a date night in months.”
“It's not exactly a date night venue,” Merritt said. “It's a beach bar. Casual. Fishermen and tourists and regulars who've been coming for years.”
“Sounds perfect.” Trevor dropped into a chair and reached for a pastry. “We could use some casual. Our life is nothing but soccer practice and pediatrician appointments and arguments about screen time.”
“That's parenting,” Grandma Sarah said. “Welcome to the club.”
Little Maggie reached for her grandmother. Maggie scooped her up and settled her on her lap, pressing a kiss to her curly hair.
“Maggie,” the toddler said contentedly.
“Yes, sweetheart. I'm Maggie. You're Maggie. We're all Maggie.”
“It does get confusing,” Sarah admitted. “Kind of like my name and Grandma’s”
Grandma Sarah laughed. “Your mother had nothing to do with that; it was all me. I figured one of my grandchildren should have my name.”
Maggie rolled her eyes and squeezed little Maggie until she giggled.
They spent the rest of the morning on the porch, talking and laughing and eating pastries until Merritt felt like she might burst. Noah showed her his collection of shells. Sophia showed her worm-finding technique. Little Maggie fell asleep in Maggie's lap, her small face peaceful and content.
When the sun climbed high overhead and the heat became too much, they moved inside to the cool of the sitting room.
Iris and Oliver had returned to the inn, ready to prepare lunch.
They served platters of fresh salads, sandwiches, lemonade and iced coffee.
They ate together around the dining room table; the conversation flowing easily.
“So this bungalow,” Maggie said, “Tell me more about it. Is it on Sanibel or Captiva?”
Merritt had mentioned it briefly during a lull in the conversation. Now she found herself explaining the details of Paula's offer. She talked about Gregory and his love for the bungalow and for Merritt, the possibility of something quieter. Something that was hers.
“French doors to the beach,” Grandma Sarah said approvingly. “That sounds like heaven.”
“It sounds too good to be true.”
“The best things often are.” Maggie leaned forward, her expression serious. “But Merritt, if this feels right, you should pursue it. You deserve a space of your own. A place where you can rest, really rest, without the noise and the chaos.”
“I don't even know if it's available. Paula just mentioned it. I haven't talked to Gregory yet.”
“So talk to him.” Chelsea shrugged like it was the simplest thing in the world. “What's the worst that can happen? He says no, and you're back where you started. But what if he says yes?”
What if he says yes.
Merritt thought about that. A bungalow on the beach. A place to play her guitar without worrying about the noise. A space where she could figure out who she was becoming, now that she wasn't taking care of anyone else.
“I'll think about it,” she said.
“Don't think too long.” Grandma Sarah fixed her with a knowing look. “Opportunities don't wait forever. And neither do you.”
Sarah stood and began gathering her things. “We should go. The kids need naps, and if I don't get little Maggie home soon, she's going to be a nightmare tonight.”
“Come to the bar,” Merritt said impulsively. “Next Tuesday. I'm playing at seven-thirty. I'll save you a table.”
Sarah's face lit up. “Really?”
“Really. I'd love to have you there.”
“Then we'll be there.” Sarah hugged her quickly, then went to collect her children. Trevor shook Merritt's hand, Noah waved goodbye, and Sophia insisted on one more hug before they disappeared out the door.
In the quiet that followed, Merritt sat with Maggie, Chelsea, and Grandma Sarah on the porch, watching the afternoon light slant through the trees.
“You're going to be okay,” Maggie said softly. “You know that, right?”
“I'm starting to believe it.”
“Good.” Maggie reached over and squeezed her hand. “That's all any of us can do. Start believing and then keep going.”
Merritt drove home as the sun was setting, the sky painted in shades of orange and pink. She thought about the day, about the warmth of the inn, about the family she'd found here in this place so far from where she'd started.
And she thought about the bungalow. The card was still sitting on her nightstand. The possibility of something new.
Tomorrow, she'd call Paula. She'd ask to meet Gregory. She'd take the next step, whatever that meant.
But tonight, she drove home with the windows down and the salt air in her hair, feeling for the first time in a long time like she was exactly where she was supposed to be.