Page 25 of When Summer Returns

“Like last time when Mr. Simmons thought he was having a heart attack but really just ate too many jalapeño poppers?”

“Exactly like that.” Maggie winked at Jessie. “The glamorous life of an island physician.”

They stepped out into the sunshine, Maggie slipping on stylish sunglasses as they joined the flow of pedestrians on the boardwalk.

“Three years here and I still can’t get used to this heat,” Maggie said, gathering her blond waves into a quick ponytail. “Tampa was hot, but something about island humidity is next level.”

“I’d forgotten what it’s like to walk through warm soup all day,” Jessie agreed.

They strolled past several shops toward a small stand at the end of the boardwalk. A chalkboard sign proclaimedISLAND COFFEE: WAKE UP TO PARADISEin artistic lettering. The line was short but moved slowly, as the barista engaged each customer in animated conversation.

“Small-town perk,” Maggie explained when Jessie commented on the unhurried pace. “Jason knows everyone’s order by heart and their life story to boot. Makes the best coffee and the worst puns. You’ve been warned.”

When they reached the counter, a young man with a sleeve of maritime tattoos and a wide smile greeted them. “Doc Winters! Your usual rocket fuel?”

“You know it. My brain needs jump-starting today.” Maggie turned to Jessie. “What’s your poison?”

“Cuban coffee sounds perfect.”

“Two liquid emergencies, coming right up!” Jason began working the elaborate espresso machine with practiced efficiency. “So you’re the famous Jessie James. Last time we had an actual outlaw on the island was when Judge Hamilton’s grandson stole all the pool noodles from the Cove Hotel.”

Jessie laughed. “My reputation precedes me, apparently.”

“Island telegraph is faster than fiber optic,” Jason confirmed, handing them each a small cup of intensely aromatic coffee. “On the house today. Welcome back to paradise.”

“You don’t have to?—”

“Island rules.” He waved away her protest. “First coffee’s always free for returning natives. Brings good luck.”

“He makes that up for every new customer,” Maggie whispered as they moved to a small table overlooking the water. “But the coffee’s worth it.”

They settled into chairs, the ocean breeze providing welcome relief from the heat. Jessie sipped the coffee, which was indeed strong enough to jump-start a small engine.

“So, you’ve returned to the island after—what? Fifteen years?” Maggie asked.

“News travels fast.”

“Small island, big curiosity.” She smiled. “Plus, Luke mentioned it when I was treating him for that cut on his hand last week.”

“He cut his hand? He didn’t say anything.”

“Occupational hazard for bartenders. Broken glass in the ice bin. He’s not one to make a fuss.

“No, he never was.”

“How are you finding island life after so long away? Culture shock?”

Jessie considered the question. “Less than I expected. Some things have changed dramatically, but the essence feels the same.”

“That’s Seeker’s Island for you. Constant reinvention on the surface, stubbornly unchanging underneath. Like most of the residents.”

“You’re not a native islander?”

“Mainland girl. Tampa, originally. Came here three years ago to escape a messy breakup and never left.” She shrugged. “I needed somewhere to lick my wounds. The island needed a doctor who wouldn’t leave after six months of isolation. Mutually beneficial arrangement.”

“And now?”

“Now I’m as close to a local as anyone who wasn’t born here can be. Which is to say, I’ll always be ‘the doctor from Tampa’ even if I live here fifty years.” She smiled to soften the observation. “The island adopts you, but never forgets you’re not native stock.”

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