Page 41 of Island Girl

Merritt felt her throat tighten. Paula saw too much. Understood too much.

“I can't afford much,” she said. “I'm just a bartender, and not a great one at that.”

“Gregory doesn't need the money. He needs peace of mind. And I think you might be exactly the kind of person who could give him that.” Paula stood up and pulled a card from her purse. “Think about it. If you're interested, come by Seaside Gardens sometime. I'll introduce you.”

Merritt took the card. It was simple, just Paula's name and the facility's address.

“Thank you,” she said. “I don't know what to say.”

“You don't have to say anything. Just think about it.” Paula glanced toward Ray's corner one more time. “And keep playing. Whatever you're doing, it's working. I can see it.”

She finished her wine, left money on the bar, and headed for the door. She didn't look back.

Merritt stood there for a long moment, holding the card, watching Paula disappear into the warm night air.

A bungalow on the beach. A place of her own.

She thought about her mother, about all those years in thesmall house in Kennebunk, taking care of someone else's needs, putting her own life on hold. She thought about Maggie, who had found her way to Captiva and built something beautiful there. She thought about the woman she was becoming, here on this island, with her guitar and her music and the strange, slow healing that was happening without her noticing.

Maybe it was time. Maybe she was ready for a place that was truly hers.

She tucked the card into her pocket and picked up her guitar.

She still had another set to play.

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.”