Chapter 27 #2
Maggie followed her through the living room into a chef's kitchen with gleaming stainless steel appliances and marble countertops. More boxes lined one wall, labeled in Lauren's neat handwriting: "Kitchen—Specialty Items" and "Kitchen—Holiday."
"It's beautiful," Maggie said sincerely. "You've always had such a good eye for properties."
Lauren smiled faintly at the compliment, but the expression didn't reach her eyes. "We're in a good school district, and it's only thirty minutes from Olivia's tennis academy. The commute to my office might be longer once I start working again, but it will be worth it."
They continued through the dining room, a home office that was clearly Jeff's domain judging by the sports memorabilia and business books, and then down a hallway lined with family photos—many still leaning against the wall waiting to be hung.
Lauren paused outside a partially open door, checking her watch. "Daniel's still asleep. He usually naps for another half hour."
They moved on to the children's rooms—Olivia's meticulously organized space with tennis trophies already arranged on shelves, Lily's explosion of colors and marine life posters, a guest room that was currently serving as a storage space for more unpacked boxes.
Throughout the tour, Lauren maintained her realtor persona, pointing out features and upgrades with professional detachment. But Maggie could see the tension in her shoulders, the way she kept glancing at Maggie as if trying to figure out the real reason for this unexpected visit.
Finally, they circled back to the kitchen where Lily was finishing a peanut butter and jelly sandwich, her legs swinging beneath the counter stool.
"All done!" she announced proudly, holding up her empty plate. "Can I show Grandma my room now?"
"In a little bit, sweetheart," Lauren said. "Why don't you go play in your new art corner for a while? Mommy needs to talk to Grandma."
Lily looked momentarily disappointed but brightened at the mention of her art supplies. "Okay! I'm making an underwater mural. It has sharks AND dolphins, even though they don't usually live in the same places."
Once Lily had skipped off to another part of the house, Lauren turned to face Maggie directly. The professional facade slipped, revealing exhaustion beneath.
"Why are you really here, Mom?" she asked quietly. "And don't tell me it's just to see the house."
Maggie took a deep breath. "Your grandmother is worried about you. She says you've been confiding in her during your video chats, that you cried when she asked about your marriage?—"
"She had no right to tell you that," Lauren interrupted, color rising in her cheeks. "Those conversations were private."
"She's worried," Maggie repeated. "And now that I see you, I'm worried too. You've lost weight, Lauren. You look exhausted. And you're not returning my calls."
"So you wouldn't have visited if Grandma didn't tell you to?" Lauren asked, her voice taking on a bitter edge. "Great. I'm so glad to be a task on your to-do list."
"That's not fair," Maggie countered, stung by the accusation. "Paolo and I would have come together sooner, but things have been absolutely crazy at the inn. Your grandmother's YouTube videos have us booked solid through Thanksgiving, and we're understaffed for the demand."
"The inn." Lauren nodded as if confirming something to herself. "It's always about the inn, isn't it?"
"That's not true?—"
"Isn't it?" Lauren challenged, her voice rising slightly before she caught herself, glancing toward the doorway where Lily had disappeared.
She lowered her voice. "Every time I call, you're in the middle of something.
Every time I visit, you're handling a crisis or checking in guests or training new staff.
Even when I brought Daniel last week just to see you, you barely had time for a hello. "
The accusation hit Maggie like a physical blow. "Lauren, I?—"
"No, it's fine," Lauren cut her off, turning away too busy herself at the sink, rinsing Lily's plate with more force than necessary.
"I get it. The inn is your life. It's your dream, your purpose.
I'm happy for you, really. But don't pretend you would have noticed anything was wrong if Grandma hadn't pointed it out. "
Maggie felt the words like a physical blow. She placed her hands on the kitchen counter to steady herself, taking a moment before responding.
"Lauren, I had no idea you felt that way," she said softly. "I never meant to make you feel like you weren't a priority."
Lauren kept her back turned, her shoulders rigid. "It doesn't matter."
"It clearly does matter," Maggie countered gently. "Please, talk to me. What's really going on? Is it your marriage? Are you and Jeff having problems?"
Lauren let out a humorless laugh, finally turning to face her mother. "Jeff and I are having small disagreements about everything lately. But it's not what Grandma probably told you."
"Then what is it?" Maggie asked, trying to keep her voice level, non-judgmental.
Lauren leaned against the counter, her arms crossed protectively across her chest. "Jeff's biggest complaint—the thing we argue about most—is that I'm emotionally tethered to you."
"To me?" Maggie couldn't hide her surprise.
"Yes, to you," Lauren confirmed, her voice gaining intensity. "He says I compare myself to you all the time, that I feel like a failure if things don't measure up to the Maggie Wheeler Moretti standard of perfection."
"But that's?—"
"Is he wrong?" Lauren challenged. "Because the other night, when he said it, I couldn't even defend myself. I couldn't tell him he was wrong because he's not."
Maggie stepped closer, her heart aching at the pain in her daughter's eyes. "Lauren, I never wanted to be a standard you felt you had to live up to."
"Is that true?" Lauren asked, her voice cracking as tears began to well in her eyes.
"Because you don't know what it's like to be considered Maggie Wheeler 2.
0. My whole life, I've been compared with you by everyone.
Teachers at school: 'Oh, you're Maggie Wheeler's daughter—we expect great things from you.
' Friends of yours: 'Lauren, your voice and even mannerisms are just like your mother’s.
' Even Dad, before he died, was always saying how much I reminded him of you. "
The tears spilled over now, tracking down Lauren's cheeks. "And when you left for Florida, that perception didn't go with you. I was still living in Andover, as Maggie Wheeler's daughter. The perfect mother who overcame tragedy and rebuilt her life. How could I possibly measure up to that?"
Maggie reached for her daughter, but Lauren took a step back, needing to finish what she'd started.
"It's not something I'm doing on purpose," she continued, wiping angrily at her tears.
"But it seems I've suffered from separation anxiety ever since you left Massachusetts.
When you moved here with Sarah, started the inn, married Paolo—it was like you created this whole new life without us. Without me."
"Lauren, that was never my intention?—"
"I know that!" Lauren exclaimed, her voice rising before she caught herself and lowered it again, conscious of Lily in the other room.
"Logically, I know that. You deserved happiness after what Dad put you through, and after he died.
You deserved a chance to rebuild your life.
But do you have any idea how hard it was to watch you thriving down here while I was trying to raise my own family, build my own career, all while constantly being reminded of how much easier you made everything look? "
The words hung in the air between them, raw and honest in a way Lauren had never been before. Maggie felt tears stinging her own eyes as the reality of her daughter's pain sank in.
"So when Jeff suggested we move to Florida for Olivia’s tennis, I was thrilled," Lauren continued, her voice softer now.
"I told myself it was for Olivia, for the warmer climate, for all these practical reasons.
But the truth is, I wanted to be closer to you.
I thought maybe if we were in the same state, this.
..this hole inside me would finally close. "
"And has it?" Maggie asked quietly.
Lauren shook her head, fresh tears spilling.
"No. Because even here, I still feel like I'm orbiting around you.
Jeff sees it. He says I check my phone for your texts all day, that I measure our house, our life, our parenting against yours.
He says I'm not fully present because part of me is always wondering what you would think, what you would do. "
She took a shuddering breath. "He's not wrong. And it's driving him crazy because he feels like he's competing with you for my attention, for my...emotional presence. He says he didn't sign up to move to Florida so I could become even more fixated on my mother's approval."
Maggie stood very still, absorbing the flood of revelations.
She had never imagined that her move to Captiva, her reinvention of herself after Daniel's death, could have created such complicated ripples in her daughter's life.
Had the changes within her family these last five years been more complicated than her children let on? The guilt threatened to overwhelm her.
"Lauren, I am so sorry," she said finally, her voice thick with emotion. "I had no idea you were carrying this burden. That my choices had this effect on you."
"It's not your fault," Lauren said, deflating slightly as if the confession had drained her. "It's mine. Jeff says I need to cut the emotional umbilical cord, but I don't know how. I've been 'Maggie Wheeler's daughter' my entire life. Who am I without that connection?"
The vulnerable question broke something open in Maggie's heart. She closed the distance between them, and this time Lauren didn't pull away when Maggie wrapped her arms around her.
"You're Lauren Phillips," Maggie said firmly, holding her daughter close as she hadn't done in years.
"You're a brilliant realtor, an incredible mother, a loving wife.
You're the girl who insisted on wearing mismatched socks to school every day in third grade because you thought it was good luck.
The teenager who organized a petition to save the old oak tree in the town square.
The young woman who knew exactly what she wanted and went after it with a determination I could only admire. "
Lauren sobbed against her mother's shoulder, years of pent-up emotions finally finding release. Maggie stroked her hair the way she had when Lauren was small, when a mother's touch could still fix anything.
"I never wanted to be a shadow over your life," Maggie whispered. "I thought I was setting an example of resilience, of starting over when life falls apart. I never imagined it would become a standard you felt you had to meet."
Lauren pulled back slightly, wiping at her eyes. "It's not your fault. It's how I internalized it. And now Jeff is at his wits’ end because he feels like he married me but got both of us in the bargain."
"Have you told him what you just told me?" Maggie asked.
Lauren shook her head. "Not all of it. Not the part about why I'm so attached to you. I think I was afraid to admit it even to myself."
"Oh, my sweet girl." Maggie sighed, brushing a strand of hair from Lauren's tear-stained face. "No wonder you've lost weight, not returning my calls. You've been carrying this impossible burden all by yourself."
Before Lauren could respond, a small voice came from the doorway.
"Mommy? Why are you crying?" Lily stood there, crayon in hand, her big eyes worried as she looked between her mother and grandmother.
Lauren quickly wiped her eyes, fixing a smile on her face. "I'm okay, sweetie. Sometimes grown-ups cry when they're having important talks."
"Are you sad?" Lily persisted, walking over to wrap her small arms around Lauren's legs.
"A little bit," Lauren admitted, bending to her daughter's level. "But Grandma is helping me feel better."
Lily considered this, then looked at Maggie. "You make good soup when I'm sad. Does Mommy need soup?"
The innocent question broke the tension, and both women laughed softly.
"That's a wonderful idea," Maggie said, kneeling down to meet Lily's eyes. "I think soup might help a lot. Would you like to help me make some for your mom?"
Lily nodded enthusiastically, always eager to be included in kitchen activities.
"Why don't you go wash your hands first?" Lauren suggested, giving her daughter a gentle nudge toward the bathroom. "Then you can show Grandma where we keep everything in our new kitchen."
As Lily scampered off, Lauren and Maggie exchanged a look that held volumes—acknowledgment of the pain they'd just uncovered, but also the first tentative steps toward healing it.
"We're not done with this conversation," Maggie said quietly.
Lauren nodded. "I know. But maybe soup is a good place to start."
For the first time since Maggie had arrived, Lauren's smile reached her eyes—small, fragile, but genuine. It wasn't a resolution, not yet, but it was a beginning.