Page 47 of Key West Promises

Gretchen squared her shoulders, a gesture so like Kaitlyn's that it made Chelsea's heart twist. "I just want her to be happy."

"I know. But maybe it's time to let her show you what that looks like instead of telling her."

“By the way, I sent a text to Jeffrey and he and Sarah are definitely coming to Key West,” Gretchen added.

“That’s great. When?”

“He said they’d get here two days after the fundraiser.”

“Let him know that I’ll make reservations for them at The Gardens Hotel. I think it will be the perfect spot for Kaitlyn and Sarah to get acquainted in private.”

Gretchen nodded. “Will do.”

At that moment, Will walked in with his camera equipment, and Gretchen's entire body tensed like a guard dog spotting an intruder.

"Don't even think about it," Chelsea warned under her breath.

"I just want to ask him?—"

"No."

"But his documentary work can't possibly provide a stable?—"

"Gretchen. No."

They watched as Will set up his equipment with practiced efficiency. Kaitlyn emerged from the office, her face lighting up when she saw him. He matched her smile with one of his own, and even Gretchen couldn't miss the way the entire room seemed to fade away for them.

"The chairman of the arts foundation is here," Kaitlyn told him, consulting her clipboard. "Elena thinks it would be good to get some footage of their involvement. Show how the whole community supports Paradise Harbor House."

"Perfect," Will replied. "And I was thinking we could interview Jamie about the local restaurant partnerships."

"Already scheduled for this afternoon," Kaitlyn finished. "After he drops off the catering contracts."

Gretchen's fingers twitched toward her iPad. "You know, when I was organizing the hospital fundraiser last year and…"

"Nope," Chelsea interrupted, steering her sister toward the door. "Come on. Donation records. Now."

"But I have experience with that."

"What you have is boundary issues. Let's go."

As they left, they could hear Will asking Kaitlyn about camera angles for the silent auction setup. Her response was confident, professional, showing a depth of understanding that made Gretchen's steps falter.

"She's good at this," Gretchen whispered, half to herself. "Really good."

"Yes, she is. And that terrifies you, doesn't it?"

"What do you mean?"

Chelsea stopped in the hallway, turning to face her sister. "Because if she's good at this—if she's found her place here—then you have to accept that her life might look very different from what you planned. That she might choose Key West and Will and documentary filming over law school and corporate jobs and whatever else you had mapped out in your head."

"I just want her to be secure. To have opportunities."

"Look around, Gretchen. She's creating her own opportunities. She's building something meaningful. And if you're not careful, you're going to miss it because you're too busy worrying about what it isn't."

Before Gretchen could respond, Leah poked her head out of the kitchen. "Has anyone seen the backup list of auction items? The one with the donor contact information?"

"Blue folder!" several voices called out.

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