Page 56 of Captiva Book Club

She was about to leave when her phone rang. Glancing at the screen, she saw Steven’s name pop up.

“Maggie, good morning!” he said.

“Steven, this is a surprise. Good morning to you, too. What’s up?” she replied.

“I need your help with something.” Steven said, his tone suddenly more serious.

Maggie’s curiosity piqued. “Sure, what’s going on? Is everything all right?”

There was a brief pause before Steven continued, “I’m planning to propose to Chelsea…at Christmas.”

Maggie’s eyes widened, and she couldn’t help but let out a little squeal of excitement.

“Steven, that’s wonderful! I knew you two were meant to be. So, what’s the plan? How can I help?”

“Thanks, I need your help picking out the ring. I want it to be perfect, something she’ll love. Who better to help me with that than her best friend?”

Maggie’s heart swelled with joy. “You’re right, I know her taste. When are we doing this, and can we make it happen in time? You’ve only got a week.”

“I’m actually in town today, but Chelsea doesn’t know it, so don’t mention that I’m around. I managed to carve out some time, and I was hoping we could go this afternoon, if you’re free?”

Maggie glanced at her watch. “I can be free, what time?”

“How does two o’clock sound?”

“Two works for me. Why don’t you meet me here at the inn?”

“I’ll be there. And Maggie, thanks so much for doing this, I really appreciate it.”

“Anytime, Steven. And don’t worry, we’ll make sure she gets the proposal of her dreams.”

After hanging up, Maggie felt a surge of excitement. This was big—huge, even. She was so thrilled for Chelsea and couldn’t wait to see the look on her best friend’s face when Steven proposed.

Chelsea put her paintbrush down and stared at the canvas in front of her. The scent of the sea drifted in through the screened-in lanai, mingling with the faint aroma of turpentine and oil paint. What should have been a perfect morning after the rain—her favorite time to paint—Chelsea couldn’t stay focused.

Lifting the paintbrush again, she tapped the handle against her lip, sighing in frustration. Normally, by this time, she’d be deep into her work, losing herself in the vibrant colors and sweeping strokes that had become her signature style. But today, her thoughts kept drifting back to Steven. The man, against all odds, managed to slip past the guarded walls she’d built around her heart after Carl’s death.

She put the brush down and rubbed her temples.

“Get a grip, Chelsea,” she muttered to herself, though it did little to settle the gnawing worry in the pit of her stomach.

Steven had always been busy, but lately, his schedule seemed more hectic than ever. He’d been away for the last couple of weeks, traveling for his business, and their conversations had become more and more sporadic. At first, she’d told herself not to worry. He was just tied up with work. But now, with each passing day, the fear that he was pulling away grew stronger.

The doorbell rang, breaking her from her spiraling thoughts.

She made her way to the door, her bare feet padding softly against the hardwood floor. When she opened it, she found Maggie standing there holding a large thermos, a brown paper bag, and her dog, Lexi, on a leash attached to her arm.

“What in the world? Why didn’t you just come around back?” Chelsea asked.

“Because Lexi pulled me up your front stairs, that’s why,” Maggie explained.

Lexi pulled away from Maggie and ran inside Chelsea’s house. Chelsea ran to the second floor and closed the bedroom door.

“What was that all about?” Maggie asked.

“That dog of yours scares the heck out of my cat. It’s bad enough that Stella won’t come out from under the bed most of the time. I don’t want her traumatized.”

Lexi stood outside Chelsea’s bedroom and cried.

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