Page 54 of The Beach Shack
“You keep track of it all?”
"Color-coded spreadsheet," he admitted, looking slightly embarrassed. "I know it's probably overkill, but it helps me stay motivated when I can see the progress."
“That’s really smart.”
"I've been researching schools online, figuring outwhich ones have the best marine programs, what kind of internships are available after."
Meg nodded slowly. “That’s impressive.”
“It’s the Beach Shack,” he said simply. “This place gave me space to figure things out. And Margo’s always trusted me with real responsibilities. That matters when you’re trying to convince trade schools you’re serious.”
“What do you mean?”
“I can manage inventory, handle cash, work the grill during rush hours. Most kids my age can’t say they’ve been assistant manager of anything.” He grinned. “Even if it’s just a grilled cheese place.”
“It’s not just anything,” Meg said firmly.
“I know. That’s the point.” Joey’s expression grew more serious. “This place teaches you how to show up. Every day, even when you don’t feel like it. Even when it’s the same routine over and over. Margo never had to tell me that—I just watched her do it.”
The bell above the door chimed, and an older couple shuffled in, clearly regulars from the way they headed straight for their preferred table without looking at the menu.
Joey stood, gripping the napkin dispenser again like it grounded him. “Anyway. If I can’t make it this year, I’ll aim for next. I’m not giving up.”
“Mr. and Mrs. Patterson!” he called out cheerfully. “Coffee and the usual?”
“You know us too well, Joey,” Mrs. Patterson called back.
“That’s what keeps me employed,” he said with a grin, then whispered to Meg, “Two classics, extra cheese, extra pickles on the side. They’ve been ordering the same thing for three years.”
As he walked toward the kitchen to start their order, Meg heard him humming again—this time it sounded like “Defying Gravity” mixed with a Beach Boys song.
She watched him work, noting how he moved around the small space with easy efficiency, how he called out greetings to the arriving customers by name, how he somehow made refilling napkin dispensers look like choreography.
Maybe the scholarship had never existed. Or maybe it had just… quietly disappeared. Either way, if there ever was a scholarship, Joey would’ve been exactly the kind of kid it was meant for.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
Meg arrived at the Beach Shack at 7:30 a.m., nearly two hours before opening. The early morning quiet felt like a luxury, giving her the uninterrupted time she needed to implement her plan.
She spread her materials across the largest table—printed spreadsheets, flow charts, and a detailed presentation she’d stayed up until 1 a.m. creating. After the weekend rush had exposed so many operational inefficiencies, Meg was determined to apply her professional expertise in a way that would make a tangible difference.
This was her element—analyzing systems, creating solutions. And unlike her client work, these improvements would directly benefit her family.
She’d identified three main areas for improvement: order flow, inventory management, and staffing allocation. The current system—if it could even be called that—relied heavily on Margo’s intuition and decades of experience rather than any standardized process. While that might have worked for years, Meg knew that proper systems would make everything run more smoothly, especially during peak periods.
By the time she heard the back door open at 9:15, Meg had taped her flow charts to the wall and organized handouts for each staff member. The pride she felt looking at her work reminded her of preparing for major client presentations—that familiar confidence of having identified solutions others couldn’t see.
“You’ve been busy,” Margo observed, eyebrows raised as she surveyed the transformed dining area.
“I thought we could have a quick team meeting before opening,” Meg explained. “I’ve come up with some ideas that I think will help with the weekend rushes.”
Margo’s expression was unreadable, but she nodded. “I’ll put on coffee.”
Joey arrived next, his usual morning cheerfulness faltering slightly when he saw the charts and diagrams covering the wall. “Whoa. Are we being audited or something?”
“Just some improvements I’ve been working on,” Meg assured him. “Nothing to worry about.”
Lisa and Dante arrived together minutes later, both looking equally bemused by the setup. As they gathered around the table with coffee, Meg felt a flutter of nervousness that she quickly suppressed. This was a small beach restaurant staff, not a boardroom ofexecutives. If anything, this presentation was overqualified for the audience.
