Page 119 of The Beach Shack Summer
Stella moved through her tasks like she’d been bornto them—manning the register, folding napkins with origami precision, wiping down tables between customers. The only thing she wouldn’t touch was the knife block, stepping around it like it might bite.
“She’s good,” Margo said quietly to Meg. “Natural rhythm. Knows what needs doing before you ask.”
“Except—”
“Except knives. Yes.” Margo watched her great-granddaughter work. “She’ll get there when she’s ready.”
The morning rush started building. Stella flowed between register and cleaning, charming customers and keeping Joey supplied with properly folded napkins. Everything running exactly as it should.
Then Andrew walked in with two friends, and Meg watched Tyler’s entire body go rigid.
“Hey, Stella!” Andrew approached the counter with what he probably thought was swagger. “Caught some sick waves this morning. You should’ve been out there.”
“Was sleeping,” Stella said, not looking up from the register. “Like normal humans.”
“Could teach you some moves. Private lessons. Very exclusive.”
His friends snickered. Tyler gripped his spatula like a weapon.
Stella finally looked up, expression politely bored. “That’s sweet, Andrew, but I learned to surf at Bondi. You know, where the waves actually require skill?”
“Ouch,” one friend muttered.
“Also,” Stella continued, handing him his change, “I’m sixteen. You’re what, twenty-two? Little creepy, mate.”
She made direct eye contact with Tyler across the kitchen, the tiniest smirk playing at her lips.See? Handled.
Tyler relaxed fractionally, though Meg noticed him stress-eating a pickle.
“Bernie!” Joey called out. “Add ‘Andrew’s rejection recovery time’ to the pools. I say three weeks.”
“You’re on!”
Andrew slunk to a back table with his friends, properly chastised. Stella went back to the register like nothing had happened.
“Your daughter’s terrifying,” Luke told Tyler, arriving for his usual coffee. “In the best way.”
“She gets it from her aunts,” Tyler said, still looking slightly stunned.
“Speaking of,” Stella said, turning to Meg with a grin that meant trouble. “Luke stopped by our house this morning.”
Meg felt heat creep up her neck. “Stella?—”
“Just saying.” She shrugged, eyes dancing with mischief, then turned back to the register.
“I hate all of you.”
“No you don’t.” Stella patted her shoulder.
The morning continued in this vein—perfectly orchestrated chaos, Stella handling everything with increasing confidence, Bernie updating his pools, customers flowing in and out. Even Patricia made an appearance, though she seemed more interested in thenew ceramics teacher who’d started at the community center.
“Plot twist!” Bernie announced. “Patricia might be moving on! Adjusting Tyler odds accordingly.”
“Thank God,” Tyler muttered.
As the lunch rush approached, Margo gathered them for a quick meeting.
“Weekend’s going to be insane,” she announced. “Surfing competition starts Friday. We’ll be slammed all three days.”
