Chapter 3
Merritt woke early, her body still on Maine time.
The sun was barely up, the light soft and gray through the window.
She lay in bed for a few minutes, listening to the gulls and the distant sound of someone hosing down the deck below.
Her shift didn't start until four, which meant her mornings were her own.
She liked that about this job. The quiet hours before the chaos, time to explore and think and settle into this new life.
She thought about calling her father, but it was too early. She'd call him tonight, after her shift. This morning, she was going to Captiva.
She'd been on the island for two days now, and she hadn't made the trip yet.
Part of her had been waiting until she felt settled.
Part of her had been nervous, though she couldn't say exactly why.
Maybe because seeing Maggie would make this real in a way it hadn't been yet.
Maybe because Maggie had a way of seeing straight through her, and Merritt wasn't sure what she'd find.
She showered and dressed in a sundress and sandals, something lighter than the jeans and T-shirts she'd been wearing for work. She grabbed her purse and keys and headed downstairs.
The bar was quiet. Justin was in the back somewhere. She could hear him moving boxes around. She slipped out the front door without saying anything, not wanting to explain where she was going or why.
The drive to Captiva took less than fifteen minutes.
She crossed the small bridge between the islands, and something shifted in her chest. The last time she'd made this drive, she'd been a different person.
Broken and lost, running from a life that had fallen apart.
Her mother had still been alive then, though barely.
Merritt had come to the islands looking for something she couldn't name, and she'd found Maggie.
Now she was back. Not running this time. Returning.
The Key Lime Garden Inn appeared around a bend in the road, tucked among palm trees and bougainvillea.
It looked exactly the way she remembered.
The pale yellow building with white trim.
The wraparound porch with rocking chairs.
The sign out front, hand-painted with a key lime tree and the words “Welcome Home.”
Merritt pulled into the small parking area and turned off the engine. She sat for a moment, her hands on the steering wheel, her heart beating faster than it should.
This was silly. Maggie would be happy to see her. There was nothing to be nervous about.
She got out of the car and walked up the crushed shell path to the porch. The screen door was propped open, the way it always was in the mornings. She could smell coffee brewing and something sweet baking. Muffins, maybe. Or scones.
She stepped inside and stood in the entryway, taking it all in.
The sitting room to her right with its comfortable furniture and shelves full of books.
Maggie's office across from it, the door open but the room empty.
Fresh flowers on the side table. The windows open to let in the breeze. Everything exactly as she remembered.
She walked toward the kitchen, following the smell of baking. A woman stood at the counter, her back to the door, arranging scones on a plate. Her dark hair was pulled up in a messy bun.
“Iris?”
The woman turned, and her face lit up. “Merritt! Oh my goodness, look at you!”
She wiped her hands on her apron and came around the counter, pulling Merritt into a warm hug.
“When did you get here? Does Maggie know? She's going to lose her mind.”
“I got here a couple days ago. I wanted to surprise her.”
“Well, you're going to. She and Paolo are out in the garden. He's been obsessing over his tomatoes, and she's out there pretending to help but really just keeping him company.” Iris grinned. “Go on out. I'll bring some iced tea in a few minutes.”
“That sounds perfect. Thank you.”
“Of course.” Iris squeezed her arm. “It's so good to see you. You look wonderful.”
Merritt smiled. “It's good to be back.”
She pushed through the screen door and stepped out onto the back porch.
The garden stretched before her, raised beds lining the edges, filled with herbs and vegetables.
A lime tree stood in one corner, heavy with fruit.
And in the middle of it all, kneeling in the dirt, was Paolo Moretti.
Maggie sat on a small bench nearby, a wide-brimmed hat shading her face.
Paolo saw her first. He squinted against the sun, then his face broke into a wide smile.
“Maggie. Look.”
Maggie turned. For a moment, she didn't move. Then she was on her feet, crossing the garden in quick steps, her eyes already shining.
“Merritt?”
“Hi, Maggie.”
Maggie pulled her into her arms and held on tight. She smelled like lavender and sunshine, exactly the way Merritt remembered.
“You're here,” Maggie whispered. “You're really here.”
“I'm here.”
Maggie pulled back and held Merritt's face in her hands, studying her the way only Maggie could. Looking for the truth beneath the surface.
“You look different,” she said.
“Good different or bad different?”
“Good. Lighter.” Maggie smiled, her eyes crinkling. “The islands are already working on you.”
“I've only been here two days.”
“That's all it takes sometimes.”
Paolo had made his way over, brushing dirt from his knees. He wrapped Merritt in a bear hug that lifted her off her feet.
“Finally, you’ve come back to us,” he said. “Maggie has talked about you so much I feel like you never left.”
“I missed this place.”
“This place missed you.” He set her down and nodded toward the porch. “Go sit. Talk. I'll finish up here.”
Maggie took Merritt's hand and led her to the porch swing at the far end of the back porch.
They sat down together, the swing creaking gently beneath them.
The garden stretched out before them, green and lush in the morning light.
Beyond it, through the trees, Merritt could catch glimpses of the water.
“So,” Maggie said. “Tell me everything.”
Before Merritt could answer, the screen door opened and Iris appeared with a tray. Two glasses of iced tea, a small plate of scones, and a bowl of cut fruit.
“Thought you might want something to nibble on while you catch up,” she said, setting the tray on the small table beside the swing.
“Thank you, Iris,” Maggie said. “You're an angel.”
“I know.” Iris winked at Merritt and disappeared back inside.
Merritt picked up one of the glasses, the condensation cool against her palm. She took a sip and let out a breath she didn't know she'd been holding.
“I don't even know where to start,” she said.
“Start anywhere,” Maggie said. “We have time.”
Merritt told her everything.
About her mother's final weeks. The hospice room with its soft lighting and the smell of flowers that couldn't quite cover the smell of medicine.
The way her father had held her mother's hand for hours, talking to her even when she couldn't respond.
The last breath, which came so quietly that Merritt almost missed it.
Maggie listened without interrupting, her hand resting on Merritt's arm.
“I'm so sorry,” she said when Merritt finished. “I know how much you loved her. And I know how hard those last years were for you.”
“They were hard. But I don't regret them.” Merritt looked out at the garden. “I just didn't know who I was supposed to be when it was over. I'd been her caregiver for so long that I forgot how to be anything else.”
“That's why you came back to Florida?”
“That's why I came back.” Merritt took a sip of her iced tea. “I got a job at a bar on Sanibel. Shorebirds. Do you know it?”
Maggie thought for a moment. “I've been there a few times. It's Crocker's place, right? The potter?”
“That's him.”
“I don't know him well, but I've heard stories. People around here talk about his wife, June. She passed away years ago, before I came to Captiva. From what I understand, she was the heart of that place. Crocker keeps it going in her memory.”
“His grandson runs it now. Justin.”
“I don't think I've met him.” Maggie paused. “Is he nice?”
Merritt thought about the Zoom interview, the easy banter, the way he'd taken a chance on her without really knowing her. “Yes, he's been really kind to me.”
“Good. You deserve kindness.” Maggie squeezed her arm. “So you're working at Shorebirds. And living where?”
“There's an apartment above the bar. It's tiny, but it has a view of the water.”
“And you're happy?”
Merritt considered the question. Happy felt like too big a word for what she was feeling. She wasn't unhappy. She wasn't lost anymore. She was something in between, something that didn't have a name yet.
“I'm getting there,” she said. “I think I just need time.”
“Time is the one thing these islands have plenty of.” Maggie rocked the swing gently with her foot. “You know, when you came here last year, I could see how broken you were. You were carrying so much weight. Your mother's illness, your broken engagement, all of it. You needed somewhere to breathe.”
“I did.”
“And now you're back. But you're different this time. You're not running away. You're running toward something.”
Merritt smiled. “That's what Justin said.”
“Smart man.” Maggie picked up a scone and broke it in half. “The islands have a way of calling people back. Once they get into your blood, you can't stay away for long. I think they got into yours.”
“I think so too.”
The screen door creaked open, and a voice rang out across the porch.
“Well, well, well. Look what the tide dragged in.”
Merritt turned to see Grandma Sarah making her way toward them, a glass of what looked like orange juice in one hand and a wide smile on her face. She was a small woman, now in her eighties, with white hair and sharp eyes that missed nothing.
“Grandma Sarah,” Merritt said, standing to greet her. “It's so good to see you.”
“Sit down, sit down. Don't get up on my account.” Sarah waved her back to the swing and settled into a wicker chair across from them. “Maggie told me you might be coming back. I said, 'That girl's got too much sense to stay up in that frozen wasteland forever.'”
“Maine isn't exactly a wasteland.”
“It is in February. Don't argue with me, I'm too old to be wrong.” Sarah sipped her juice and looked Merritt up and down. “You changed your hair.”
Merritt touched her lighter locks. “I needed a change.”
“It suits you. I like it.” Sarah leaned back in her chair. “So, I overheard you say you're working at Crocker's place. You know he makes the most beautiful pottery. I've got three of his vases in my condo.”
“They are beautiful,” Merritt agreed.
“The man's got talent. Quiet as a church mouse, but talented.” Sarah's eyes twinkled. “His grandson's not bad looking either, from what I hear.”
“Mother, really?” Maggie said, a warning in her voice.
“What? I'm old, not dead. I can still appreciate a handsome face.” She winked at Merritt. “You let me know if he's as good looking as they say.”
Merritt laughed. “I'll keep you posted.”
“You do that.” Grandma Sarah finished her juice and set the glass down. “Now, I've got to go harass Paolo about his tomatoes. He thinks he's growing them for the inn, but really he's growing them for me. He just doesn't know it yet.”
She pushed herself up from the chair and patted Merritt on the shoulder as she passed.
“Welcome home, sweetheart. Don't be a stranger.”
Merritt watched her go, a warm feeling spreading through her chest. This place, these people. It felt like family in a way she hadn't expected.
“She's something else,” Merritt said.
“She's a force of nature.” Maggie smiled. “But she's not wrong. Your hair is lovely, and so are you.”
They sat in comfortable silence for a while, rocking gently on the swing. The breeze carried the smell of salt and jasmine. Somewhere in the garden, Paolo was laughing at something Grandma Sarah said.
“I should probably get going,” Merritt said eventually. “My shift starts at four, and I’d like to run a few errands and then call my dad before work.”
“How is he? Your father?”
“Lonely. But he won't admit it.” Merritt set her empty glass on the tray. “He's got a book deadline coming up, so that's keeping him busy. He writes about nature and conservation.”
“That sounds like meaningful work.”
“It is. He loves it.” Merritt paused. “I worry about him, though. Being alone in that house.”
“He'll find his way. Just like you're finding yours.” Maggie stood and pulled Merritt into another hug. “Come back soon. For dinner, maybe. I’m sure Iris will cook something wonderful, and we can talk more.”
“I'd like that.”
“And Merritt?” Maggie held her at arm's length, her eyes serious. “If you ever need anything, you know where to find me. Day or night. Whatever it is.”
“I know.”
“Good.” Maggie smiled and released her. “It was wonderful to see you again. I’m so happy you’ll live close by. We’ll talk again, soon?”
“Absolutely,” Merritt answered and then walked back through the kitchen, waving goodbye to Iris, and out the front door to her car. As she drove down the shell-covered driveway, she glanced in the rearview mirror at the inn, its pale yellow walls glowing in the morning light.
She'd come back looking for something. And sitting on that porch swing, drinking iced tea with Maggie Moretti, she thought maybe she'd found it.
Not answers. Not yet.
But a place where answers might come, when she was ready.
She turned onto the road and headed back to Sanibel, the water glittering on her right, the future waiting somewhere ahead.