Page 33 of The Beach Shack
Before Meg could respond, Luke appeared behind the counter, grabbing an apron from a hook with the familiarity of someone who knew exactly where everything belonged.
“Meg,” he acknowledged with a nod, then immediately turned to Margo. “Grill or window?”
“Window,” Margo decided. “Those kids know you.”
Meg watched as Luke stepped into the operation without hesitation, greeting the surfing students byname, joking with regulars, all while efficiently managing orders.
“You’re staring,” Margo observed quietly beside her.
Meg quickly looked away from Luke. “Just weird to see him working here.”
“He doesn’t work here,” Margo corrected, flipping a sandwich with practiced ease. “He helps. There’s a difference.”
For the next hour, the three of them moved around each other in the small space behind the counter—Margo at the grill, Luke handling the window orders, and Meg managing the indoor counter and register when Lisa took her break. What surprised Meg most was how quickly they found a rhythm together, as if they had been doing this for years.
“You haven’t lost your touch,” Luke commented, nodding toward the neatly arranged plates Meg had prepared.
“Muscle memory,” Meg replied, surprised to find herself feeling pleased at his observation.
Luke raised an eyebrow. “Some things you never forget.”
Before she could determine if there was a double meaning to his words, he’d turned back to the window.
By one-thirty, the rush had eased considerably. The surfing students had departed with their takeout orders, and only a few regulars remained at the counter stools, nursing iced teas and lingering over the last bites of their sandwiches.
“We survived,” Luke announced, untying his apron.
“Barely,” Meg said, though in truth, they’d handled the rush efficiently.
Margo wiped down the grill, her movements slightly slower than earlier. Meg noticed her grandmother’s subtle wince as she stretched to reach the upper shelf.
“I need to check the inventory before the afternoon delivery,” Margo said. “Meg, why don’t you take a break? You’ve been on your feet all morning.”
“I’m fine,” Meg began, but Margo cut her off.
“Luke, take her for a walk on the beach. She’s been inside all day.”
Meg opened her mouth to protest being discussed as if she weren’t standing right there, but Luke jumped in before she could.
“Great idea. The tide pools are perfect right now.” He turned to Meg. “Twenty minutes. Fresh air. Doctor’s orders.”
“You’re not a doctor,” Meg pointed out.
“Marine biologist,” he corrected with a grin. “Close enough when you’re near the ocean.”
Margo was already shooing them toward the door. “Go. Lisa and I can handle things for a while.”
The clear matchmaking attempt would have been annoying if it weren’t so transparent. Margo didn’t even attempt to look innocent.
“Fine,” Meg conceded. “Twenty minutes.”
Outside, the afternoon sun warmed the wooden deck. Meg hadn’t realized how much she needed fresh air until she took her first deep breath outside.
“She’s always been like that,” Luke said as they descended the steps to the beach. “Pushing people together.”
“Subtle as a bulldozer,” Meg agreed. “I remember.”
They walked in silence for a moment, finding their way down to the firmer sand near the water’s edge. Meg slipped off her shoes, letting her feet sink into the cool, damp sand. Despite herself, she felt some of the tension easing from her shoulders.
