Page 42 of Island Girl

“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.”