Page 79 of The Beach Shack
Margo’s expression didn’t change, but something in her posture shifted subtly—a slight stiffening of her shoulders, a barely perceptible withdrawal. “Yes, they do.”
“Can you tell me what they’re for?” Meg kept her voice gentle, curious rather than accusatory.
“A commitment your grandfather made. That I’ve continued.” Margo moved fully into the office now, beginning to gather the older ledgers with careful hands. “It’s been handled this way since before you were born.”
“But what kind of commitment requires $1,500 every month for decades? That’s a significant expense for a business this size.”
Margo continued collecting the ledgers, her movements deliberate but slightly too swift to be casual. “Some obligations transcend business considerations.”
“Gram,” Meg said softly, using the childhood name she’d abandoned years ago. “I’m trying to help. But I can’t understand the Beach Shack’s financial situation without knowing about its largest recurring expense.”
For a moment, something vulnerable flickeredacross Margo’s face—a hesitation, perhaps even a consideration to finally explain. Then her expression settled back into its familiar composed lines.
“It’s a private matter, Meg. One that doesn’t affect your temporary management of the shack.” The subtle emphasis on “temporary” wasn’t lost on Meg. “The monthly payment is accounted for in our operating budget. It always has been.”
“But—”
“I appreciate your help with the reconciliation,” Margo interrupted gently but firmly. “Perhaps you could focus on the current month’s receivables? We had several catering orders that need to be properly recorded.”
The deflection was skillful, practiced—the conversation equivalent of a closed door. Meg had used similar techniques herself in difficult client meetings, redirecting attention from sensitive topics to more manageable ones. But coming from her grandmother, it stung in a way she hadn’t expected.
“Does Uncle Rick know about this?” Meg asked suddenly.
Margo paused, the collected ledgers pressed against her chest like a shield. “Your uncle has his own opinions about how the Beach Shack should be run. Always has.”
It wasn’t an answer, yet somehow it told Meg everything she needed to know. The tension between Rick and Margo, his refusal to discuss the business, hiswarning that she wouldn’t understand—all of it connected to whatever secret these ledgers contained.
“Don’t you trust me?” The question emerged more vulnerable than Meg had intended, revealing the hurt beneath her curiosity.
Margo’s expression softened. “This isn’t about trust, Meg. Some promises aren’t only mine to explain.” She hesitated, then added, “When the time is right, you’ll understand. But that time isn’t now.”
With that cryptic statement, Margo left the office, taking the older ledgers with her. Meg remained at the desk, staring at the current year’s entries, feeling more confused than before. Not just about the financial mystery, but about her place in this family business where even basic financial information remained guarded behind decades of secrecy.
The afternoon crowdhad thinned to just a few lingering customers when Luke arrived, carrying a box of marine conservation pamphlets he’d promised to display at the counter. Meg watched him chat easily with Joey while arranging the materials, his casual comfort in the space a stark contrast to her own lingering sense of being an outsider despite her family connection.
When he approached the register where she was closing out the day’s sales, his smile faded slightly as he noticed her expression. “Tough day?”
“Enlightening might be a better word,” Meg replied,trying to keep her tone neutral. The last thing she wanted was to appear as if she were gossiping about her grandmother’s business practices.
Luke studied her for a moment. “Want to talk about it? I’m heading down to check the tide pools. Good walking and talking territory.”
Meg hesitated. On one hand, discussing family financial matters with someone outside the family felt inappropriate. On the other, Luke clearly knew more about the Beach Shack’s operations than she did, despite having no blood connection to it.
“Sure,” she decided. “Let me just finish up here.”
Twenty minutes later, they walked along the shoreline below the Beach Shack. For several minutes, they moved in silence, the rhythmic sound of waves filling the space.
“So,” Luke said finally. “What’s enlightening you today?”
Meg considered how much to share. “I found some... unusual financial patterns while helping Margo with the books. Long-term payments that don’t make business sense.”
“The monthly obligation,” Luke said, not as a question but as a statement.
Meg stopped walking. “You know about it?”
“I know it exists.” Luke bent to examine a small shell before straightening again. “Not the details.”
“But you know more than you’re saying.” Meg couldn’t keep the frustration from her voice. “Everyoneseems to be protecting some big secret about the Beach Shack, and I can’t understand why.”
