Page 45 of Island Girl

“Then we'll be there.” Sarah hugged her quickly, then went to collect her children. Trevor shook Merritt's hand, Noah waved goodbye, and Sophia insisted on one more hug before they disappeared out the door.

In the quiet that followed, Merritt sat with Maggie, Chelsea, and Grandma Sarah on the porch, watching the afternoon light slant through the trees.

“You're going to be okay,” Maggie said softly. “You know that, right?”

“I'm starting to believe it.”

“Good.” Maggie reached over and squeezed her hand. “That's all any of us can do. Start believing and then keep going.”

Merritt drove home as the sun was setting, the sky painted in shades of orange and pink. She thought about the day, about the warmth of the inn, about the family she'd found here in this place so far from where she'd started.

And she thought about the bungalow. The card was still sitting on her nightstand. The possibility of something new.

Tomorrow, she'd call Paula. She'd ask to meet Gregory. She'd take the next step, whatever that meant.

But tonight, she drove home with the windows down and the salt air in her hair, feeling for the first time in a long time like she was exactly where she was supposed to be.

CHAPTER 14

Merritt called Paula on Monday morning.

She'd been staring at the card for two days, turning it over in her hands, thinking about what Grandma Sarah had said. Opportunities don't wait forever. And neither do you.

Paula answered on the third ring. “Merritt. I was hoping you'd call.”

“I've been thinking about what you said. About Gregory. About the bungalow.”

“And?”

“I'd like to meet him. If the offer still stands.”

“It stands.” Paula's voice warmed. “Can you come by this afternoon? Around two? Gregory's sharpest after lunch, and I think you two will get along.”

“I'll be there.”

She spent the morning restless, unable to settle into anything. She cleaned her small apartment, reorganizing the few belongings she'd accumulated since arriving on Sanibel. She practiced guitar, working through songs she hadn't played in years. Shestood at the window and watched the parking lot fill with lunch customers, the shell-covered gravel glinting in the sun.

At one-thirty, she changed into a simple sundress and drove to Seaside Gardens.

The assisted living facility was a low, sprawling building surrounded by palm trees and hibiscus bushes. It looked more like a resort than a nursing home, with wide verandas and rocking chairs and bird feeders hanging from every available branch. Merritt parked in the visitor lot and sat for a moment, gathering her courage.

She wasn't sure why she was nervous. It was just a conversation. Just a meeting with an old man who might or might not want to rent her his bungalow.

But it felt like more than that. It felt like the next step in something she didn't fully understand yet.

Paula was waiting for her in the lobby, still in her pale blue scrubs, her silver-threaded hair pulled back in a practical ponytail.

“I’m glad you decided to come,” she said, smiling.

“Are you sure he won’t mind my being here?”

“Of course not.” Paula gestured for her to follow. “Come on. He’s been looking forward to your coming. I may have talked you up a little.”

“What did you tell him?”

“That you're a musician. That you're kind. That you’re a good person who needs a soft place to land.” Paula glanced at her as they walked down the hall. “Was I wrong?”

“No,” Merritt said, “you weren't wrong.”