Page 124 of The Beach Shack Summer
“I need to sit down,” Joey announced, sliding into the nearest booth. “Forever.”
“Let’s get sodas first,” Tyler said, but he was smiling. “Everyone grab something. We’ve earned it.”
They collapsed at various tables—no energy for proper seating arrangements. Stella found herself between Joey and Dante, across from Margo and Tyler. Meg and Luke took the next booth with Lisa and Bernie.
“That was...” Joey stared at his Coke. “I can’t even describe what that was.”
“Chaos,” Dante supplied helpfully. “Really successful chaos.”
“My napkins will never recover,” Joey said mournfully.
“Your napkins were fine,” Stella lied.
“Don’t. Just... don’t.” But Joey was smiling. “I madeover a million perfect grilled cheeses today. I’m focusing on that.”
“A million and one,” Tyler noted. “One got charcoal status.”
“Bernie ate it! It counts!”
“I’ve eaten worse,” Bernie confirmed from the next booth.
Margo hadn’t said much, just watched them all with that particular expression she got sometimes. Finally, she lifted her soda with her good hand.
“Thank you,” she said simply. “All of you. Today could have been a disaster. Instead...” She looked around at her exhausted, triumphant crew. “Instead, you showed me what this place is really about.”
“Chaos and burnt sandwiches?” Dante suggested.
“Family,” Margo corrected gently. “Stepping up when it matters.”
“Even with ugly napkins,” Joey added, then yelped as Stella kicked him under the table.
“Especially with ugly napkins,” Margo agreed.
They sat in quiet exhaustion, too tired for deep conversations about legacy and belonging. That would come later. For now, it was enough to sit together, sodas getting warm, Bernie telling increasingly outrageous stories about the old days.
“Same time tomorrow?” Lisa asked eventually. “I promise no family emergencies.”
“Maybe with less blood,” Tyler said.
“Definitely less blood,” Margo agreed. “Once every fifty years is enough.”
As they finally started cleaning up, Meg pulled Stella aside.
“You okay?”
“Yeah.” Stella looked at her station—her station now, she realized. “Yeah, I think I am.”
“You know what this means, right? You’re officially kitchen crew now.”
“No more hiding behind the register,” Stella agreed. “I’m okay with that.”
“Good. Because I don’t think Joey’s letting anyone else touch his napkins anytime soon.”
They locked up as the sun started to set. Tomorrow would bring new challenges—working around Margo’s injury, adjusting schedules, finding their new rhythm. But they’d figure it out.
“Hey,” Tyler said as they walked to the cars. “Thank you. For taking care of everything. For taking care of her.”
“It’s what family does,” Stella said simply.
