Page 44 of Island Girl

Chelsea looked at Merritt. “Gretchen is my sister. I can ask her if you’d like.”

“That would be wonderful, thank you.” She looked at Noah. “Then you could come and hear me play.”

Chelsea added, “In the meantime, how about we grownups come to hear you at Shorebirds?”

“Oh, I’d love that,” Sarah said. She looked at Trevor, who shrugged. “I don't see why not. We haven't had a date night in months.”

“It's not exactly a date night venue,” Merritt said. “It's a beach bar. Casual. Fishermen and tourists and regulars who've been coming for years.”

“Sounds perfect.” Trevor dropped into a chair and reached for a pastry. “We could use some casual. Our life is nothing but soccer practice and pediatrician appointments and arguments about screen time.”

“That's parenting,” Grandma Sarah said. “Welcome to the club.”

Little Maggie reached for her grandmother. Maggie scooped her up and settled her on her lap, pressing a kiss to her curly hair.

“Maggie,” the toddler said contentedly.

“Yes, sweetheart. I'm Maggie. You're Maggie. We're all Maggie.”

“It does get confusing,” Sarah admitted. “Kind of like my name and Grandma’s”

Grandma Sarah laughed. “Your mother had nothing to do with that; it was all me. I figured one of my grandchildren should have my name.”

Maggie rolled her eyes and squeezed little Maggie until she giggled.

They spent the rest of the morning on the porch, talking andlaughing and eating pastries until Merritt felt like she might burst. Noah showed her his collection of shells. Sophia showed her worm-finding technique. Little Maggie fell asleep in Maggie's lap, her small face peaceful and content.

When the sun climbed high overhead and the heat became too much, they moved inside to the cool of the sitting room. Iris and Oliver had returned to the inn, ready to prepare lunch. They served platters of fresh salads, sandwiches, lemonade and iced coffee. They ate together around the dining room table; the conversation flowing easily.

“So this bungalow,” Maggie said, “Tell me more about it. Is it on Sanibel or Captiva?”

Merritt had mentioned it briefly during a lull in the conversation. Now she found herself explaining the details of Paula's offer. She talked about Gregory and his love for the bungalow and for Merritt, the possibility of something quieter. Something that was hers.

“French doors to the beach,” Grandma Sarah said approvingly. “That sounds like heaven.”

“It sounds too good to be true.”

“The best things often are.” Maggie leaned forward, her expression serious. “But Merritt, if this feels right, you should pursue it. You deserve a space of your own. A place where you can rest, really rest, without the noise and the chaos.”

“I don't even know if it's available. Paula just mentioned it. I haven't talked to Gregory yet.”

“So talk to him.” Chelsea shrugged like it was the simplest thing in the world. “What's the worst that can happen? He says no, and you're back where you started. But what if he says yes?”

What if he says yes.

Merritt thought about that. A bungalow on the beach. A place to play her guitar without worrying about the noise. A space where she could figure out who she was becoming, now that she wasn't taking care of anyone else.

“I'll think about it,” she said.

“Don't think too long.” Grandma Sarah fixed her with a knowing look. “Opportunities don't wait forever. And neither do you.”

Sarah stood and began gathering her things. “We should go. The kids need naps, and if I don't get little Maggie home soon, she's going to be a nightmare tonight.”

“Come to the bar,” Merritt said impulsively. “Next Tuesday. I'm playing at seven-thirty. I'll save you a table.”

Sarah's face lit up. “Really?”

“Really. I'd love to have you there.”