Through the window, Maggie could see two men in work clothes beginning to assess the furniture that had been tagged for transport. The pieces of her old life, about to be carried out the door and loaded into a truck.
“Crawford is meeting the truck in Fort Myers,” Christopher said, following her gaze. “He's arranged for storage until the house is ready.”
“That was kind of him.”
“Becca's father has been incredible through all of this.”
Lauren appeared in the kitchen doorway, already dressed, her hair pulled back in a ponytail. “The movers want to know if we have anything else to add to the truck. I told them yes, but I need coffee before I can deal with logistics.”
“There's a fresh pot,” Maggie said.
“Bless you.” Lauren poured herself a cup and took a long sip. “Okay. Sarah and I have a few boxes. Grandma has that chair she refuses to leave behind. Chelsea found some artwork she wants to keep. And Mom, you have those boxes from the attic.”
“The moving company is taking all of it?” Maggie asked.
“Makes more sense than hauling it in the RV,” Lauren said. “Crawford said there's plenty of room in the storage unit. We can sort through everything once we're back in Florida.”
Grandma Sarah appeared in the kitchen doorway, already dressed in her purple tracksuit. “Why is everyone standing around? There's work to be done. Those movers need supervision.”
“They're professionals, Mother,” Maggie said. “I'm sure they know what they're doing.”
“Professional or not, that chair is older than they are. I'm not taking any chances.”
Grandma Sarah marched off toward the living room, and a moment later they heard her issuing instructions to the movers with the authority of a general commanding troops.
“That chair goes in last,” she announced. “I want it accessible. And be careful with it. The leather is original.”
“Yes, ma'am,” came the mover's weary reply.
Maggie's phone buzzed in her pocket. She pulled it out and smiled when she saw Paolo's name on the screen.
“I'll be right back,” she said, stepping out onto the back porch for a moment of privacy.
“Good morning, my love.” Paolo's voice was warm, that familiar accent that still made her heart skip after all this time. “I wanted to catch you before the chaos began.”
“Too late. The movers are already here.” Maggie watched through the window as Christopher lifted Eloise from her bouncer, pressing a kiss to her forehead. “How are things at the inn?”
“Quiet. Too quiet. The guests are wonderful, but it’s more fun when you’re here.” He paused. “I miss you, Maggie. The bed is too big. The coffee tastes wrong when I make it myself. Even the sunsets are less beautiful without you beside me.”
“You're very dramatic this morning.”
“I am Italian. Drama is in my blood.” She could hear the smile in his voice. “When do you leave? Have you and Chelsea booked your flight?”
Maggie hesitated. “About that. There's been a change of plans.”
“What kind of change?”
“Mother has insisted that Chelsea and I drive back with her in the RV. Lauren and Sarah will be with us too.”
There was a pause. “Your mother’s RV?”
“The very same.”
“And you agreed to this?”
“I didn't have much choice. You know how she is.” Maggie lowered her voice. “But honestly, Paolo, I'm worried about her. She's eighty years old, and she thinks she can do anything she sets her mind to. Someone needs to watch over her, even if she doesn't think she needs watching.”
“You want to protect her.”
