Page 37 of Captiva Book Club

“I’m okay,” she answered, and then looked at the nurse. The woman’s teeth were the whitest Maggie had ever seen, and she wondered how many hours of brushing and flossing could produce such whiteness. It was a random observation, the kind that Chelsea usually mentioned in moments of stress. She smiled, thinking of her friend, and how, if she were here, would be bold enough to ask the nurse about her teeth.

Maggie’s mind wandered. Christopher and Becca would arrive in two days, and preparing for the book club get-together was mostly done. She wondered when Sarah would come to the carriage house and wrap her children’s Christmas presents, and when she might get around to wrapping hers.

“Okay, Maggie, we’re ready to begin,” the doctor said, breaking her from her thoughts. He positioned the biopsy needle at the site of the lump. “You might feel some pressure now.”

Maggie held her breath as she felt the needle press into her skin. There was a slight pinch, followed by a deep pressure that radiated through her armpit. It wasn’t exactly painful, but it was uncomfortable and she wanted to cry.

“You’re doing great,” Dr. Renolt said, his voice steady and calming. “Just a little more.”

As he finished extracting the cells, Maggie tried to think of anything but what was happening, and she was upset with herself for not bringing Paolo with her, especially since she now had to drive herself home.

“All done,” he said. “You handled that like a pro.”

“Well, it wasn’t my first time,” she joked.

He nodded. “Indeed. I’m going to have my nurse bandage this, and you’ll probably feel a dull ache on and off for the next day. You have someone to drive you home?”

She nodded. It was a small lie, but there wasn’t anything she could do about it now.

“The biopsy results should be back in a few days. I’ll do my best to speed things up considering it’s so close to Christmas. I’ll give you a call as soon as I have them. I know you’ve heard me say this before but try not to worry too much.”

Maggie nodded. “Thank you, Doctor. I appreciate you being so thorough.”

As she left the office, Maggie tried to focus on the positive.

The MRI didn’t show cancer, or the doctor would have said so.

The biopsy was just another step, another piece of the puzzle. She had faced worse before, and she could face this too. Whatever the results were, she would deal with them—one day at a time.

When Maggie returned to the Key Lime Garden Inn, Paolo was waiting for her in the driveway. Initially worried that something must have gone wrong because she had been away for so long, he relaxed as soon as she texted him that she was on her way home.

“How did it go?” he asked as she got out of the car. “I’ve been a nervous wreck. What took so long?”

Maggie laughed. “Hang on, one question at a time.”

Maggie longed for quiet time and a hot bath but needed to update Paolo on her day. The tension in her neck and shoulder from the day gripped her and wouldn’t let go.

“Are you sure you’re all right?” he asked.

“I’m fine, I just need some down time to decompress.”

“I should have been with you at the hospital,” he said. “I hate that you had to drive yourself home after the biopsy.”

She reached for him, and they walked arm in arm into the carriage house.

“Oh, by the way, two things…Iris was looking for you this morning. I’m not sure what that was about, and she said not to bother you. Then, a little while later, Ciara stopped by. I told her where you were, and so she left you a message. Let me see if I can repeat this correctly. She said to tell you that Luke will help her carry stuff to the book club meeting so that he and Katie can be in the same room. She also said that Claire is casually mentioning Luke to Katie, but she doesn’t know what that means.”

Maggie chuckled but didn’t explain.

“What are you and my sister up to?” Paolo asked.

Maggie shook her head. “Never mind about that. My brain can’t deal with anything right now anyway. I just want some alone time with my husband, is that okay with you?”

Paolo smiled. “It sounds perfect.”

Crawford Powell sat across from his wife, Ciara, the flickering light of the television catching her eye. He was engrossed in his favorite show, a nostalgic dive into old movies, 1960s TV sitcoms, and anything that had to do with Hawaiian real estate. These were his escapes, his simple pleasures, and sitting comfortably in his well-worn recliner, he seemed at peace.

Ciara never understood the interest in the real estate show, when he’d never been to Hawaii, and they had no plans to go anytime soon. She, however, found no solace in American television. The exaggerated laughter, the predictable plots—it all grated on her.

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