Key Lime Garden Inn （Captiva Island Book 1）
Maggie Wheeler threw the half-eaten tomato to the ground and studied what remained of her kale and spinach plants. She'd spent the better half of the afternoon, and several hours the day before, installing a fence to protect her garden, and yet nothing seemed to deter the pesky woodchuck…
The woodchuck’s hole that began on the other side of the fence extended right in front of her raised beds. If she weren't so upset about losing her plants, Maggie would probably fall in love with the silly animal.
"This is my yard, so you stay over on your side, and I'll stay on mine, and we'll get along just fine."
The woodchuck's large brown eyes stared back at her as if he understood what she was saying.
Waving her hands in the air, Maggie did her best to chase the animal away.
"Shoo. Go. Run. Get going. You're not going to like what I'm about to do."
Maggie watched as the woodchuck came out of the hole, turned, and ran into the woods. Then, she yelled, apologizing, "I'm sorry, but I have no choice. Don't come back."
Reaching for the bottle in her gardening basket, she remembered what Henry, the owner of Harper’s Country Feed and Garden store, had told her.
"If you want to keep the little critter from eating up your vegetables, get a large, plastic bottle and poke holes in it. Then what you do is fill the bottle with cotton balls soaked in the coyote urine, then hang the bottle on your fence. That'll do the trick."
If anyone had told her that she would purchase coyote urine, let alone soak anything in it, she would have thought they were crazy. But now, after days of chasing the woodchuck out of her yard, she was desperate.
Visions of the spilled urine kept her from following Henry’s suggestion. So instead, she bought the spray bottle size to keep any liquid from getting on her clothes. And, if it wasn't a windy day, she should be able to avoid smelling like she'd been bathing in it.
Spraying the liquid around the perimeter of the fence, she saturated the spot where the animal entered the yard. The smell was awful, but the more she thought about it, maybe it wouldn't be such a bad idea to reek of the stuff to get out of going to dinner tonight.
Her husband's boss, Richard Patterson, and his wife, Lorna, were hosting the annual office get-together, and it was something Maggie dreaded. Taking another tour of the Patterson’s mansion so that their guests could see the latest redecorations would keep Maggie's plastered smile in place for an uncomfortable and possibly unhealthy length of time.
She started to laugh, thinking how much fun it would be to secretly sprinkle a little of the urine on Lorna's no doubt expensive and customized sofa.
Richard made Maggie uncomfortable, and she wondered if any of the other wives felt the same way. There was something creepy about the way he looked at her. As much as she hated going to this dinner, she knew it was a small sacrifice to pay if it helped Daniel's career.
Checking her watch, she started to panic.
Even if she rushed, there was barely enough time to shower before Daniel got home.
If it weren't so late, Maggie would gladly spend another hour working in the garden.
It was the one place that made her feel relaxed, and these days, the only thing she had complete control over.
Playing in the dirt was her way of meditating.
It was what her friend Chelsea called “tranquil and Zen.”
If she'd had the ambition when she was younger, she would have opened a flower shop.
Instead, those plans got pushed to the back of her mind as she focused on her marriage and raising their children.
Back then, it would have been impossible to run a business and care for her family at the same time.
Daniel had always wanted a large family, and so their five children kept her too busy for anything else.
Maggie grabbed her basket and ran back to the house.
Inside the mudroom, she pulled off her gloves, hung up her hat, and wiggled out of her boots.
She had purchased them from a British catalog the first time she saw Kate Middleton wearing them.
If British royalty called the boots wellies, that's what Maggie would call hers.
She liked to imagine that she was working in an English flower garden instead of fighting a woodchuck in Massachusetts.
Hearing Daniel's key in the front door, she looked at her image in the hall mirror and rubbed the dirt from her sweaty face.
Running to the front door, she slipped past her husband as he walked into the foyer.
Taking the stairs two at a time, she yelled to him, "I know what you're going to say.
I'll be fast, I promise. We won't be late. "
"Don't bother. We're not going."
Maggie was almost at the top of the stairs before she stopped and turned to look down at him.
"What do you mean, we're not going?"
He was sweating and looked as if he'd been hit by a truck. Maggie knew immediately that something terrible had happened. She walked down the stairs and took Daniel's briefcase from him, laying it on the foyer chair, her stomach in knots.
With their son Christopher in the army and stationed in the Middle East, she was constantly on edge, worrying he might be injured or even killed. Their oldest son, Michael, was a police officer. He was married with two children and a third on the way. Maggie was always worried about him as well.
"What's happened? Are the kids all right? Is it Christopher or Michael? Is someone dead? Say something; you're scaring me."
"No. It's nothing like that. The kids are fine. Everyone is fine."
"Then what is it?"
"I quit my job. That's why we're not going to dinner tonight."
Unable to control herself, she laughed. It wasn't a tiny snicker but a full-blown gut-hugging fall on the floor kind of laugh. By the look on Daniel's face, she could tell he thought she either hadn't heard him or didn't understand the significance of his words.
"Did you hear me? I quit. No more job. No more money. The end."
Maggie wiped the happy tears from her face and tried to compose herself. Daniel always had a flair for the dramatic. It was obvious to her that this was nothing more than another of his overblown and exaggerated reactions.
She understood what he was saying, but they were hardly poor, and she was confident in time he would be making money at a new job, maybe even more money than he’d made at his old one. Quitting his job was not the disaster he was making it out to be.
"I'm sorry, Daniel. I am. I didn't mean to make fun of this, but I'm glad. I'm surprised you didn't expect me to be happy. I've been complaining about your job for years and have begged you to quit. I finally gave up trying to talk you into leaving."
Daniel's face was red, and he stared at her as if she'd lost her mind. Maggie continued to make light of the situation.
"This is good news as far as I'm concerned.
I'm serious. Let's open a bottle of champagne and start planning our future.
Maybe we can take that trip to Italy we've been talking about for years.
We've got plenty of money in our retirement accounts, and the mortgage is paid in full.
Why not take some time before you decide on the next step?
I think it will be good for you and us."
Italy—just the thought of going made her heart race.
Except for their annual trip to Captiva Island, they never traveled far from home.
Day trips with the children and camping seemed to be all the adventures they could manage.
Daniel's job kept him working around the clock, so travel was something they had to squeeze into their lives as best they could.
Their children weren't children anymore.
They were adults and didn't need them the way they had when they were young.
The boys were out on their own, and their oldest daughter, Lauren, was married and had two children.
Sarah, their middle daughter, was a financial planner at an investment firm in Boston and seemed very close to an engagement announcement with her boyfriend, Ben.
Their youngest daughter, Beth, was a strong, level-headed woman in her final year of law school.
It seemed to Maggie that this was the perfect time to travel before moving on to the next chapter of their lives.
She was almost giddy in anticipation of what lay ahead and failed to notice Daniel pacing the floor and wringing his hands.
Then, turning her attention to him, she reached out to put her arms around him and was shocked when he flinched and pulled away.
"I'm sorry, I was thinking about how we should celebrate. I didn't let you get a word in. Tell me everything that happened. What was it that made you finally quit?"
Daniel stopped moving and turned to look at her.
"I want a divorce."
If her brain wasn't registering his words, the rest of her body was. Feeling faint, she reached for the sofa. Ten years ago, when she found out that her husband was having an affair, she’d been prepared to hear him say those words.
Hearing them now felt like he’d punched her in the stomach.
Unable to breathe, she sat motionless, hoping the sofa cushions would swallow her up and she could disappear.
When she regained her composure, she took a few deep breaths, and said only one word.
"Why?"
She already knew the answer but needed him to say the words.
He didn't hesitate. "I'm in love with someone else."
Unable to stand, she thought back to the last time he’d cheated. He hadn't wanted a divorce then. Instead, he’d begged her not to leave him. He said he couldn't live without her and the kids and that the affair meant nothing.