Page 8 of The Beach Shack Summer
“Sorry,” Luke said. “That was just... that was funny.”
“Points for honesty,” Stella allowed.
The grilled cheese arrived via Margo herself, four perfect sandwiches with sides of chips and pickles. The smell made Meg realize she hadn’t eaten since morning.
“Thank you,” Stella said, surprising everyone, including herself by the look on her face.
“You’re welcome.” Margo hesitated. “Your great-great-grandmother used to make these for me. When I was about your age.”
Stella looked up sharply. “My what?”
“Your great-great-grandmother. My mother.” Margo’s voice was steady. “She made the best grilled cheese. Before me.”
“Oh.” Stella stared at her sandwich. “I didn’t... Tyler never said...”
“No,” Margo agreed. “Not likely.”
The weight of that settled over the table. Tyler still hadn’t looked up.
“Eat,” Margo said gently. “Before it gets cold.”
She walked away, back straight, and Meg wanted to follow her. Wanted to apologize for the secret thatwasn’t hers, for the years of not knowing, for the way this was happening.
Instead, she picked up her sandwich and took a bite. Beside her, Luke did the same. After a moment, Stella followed suit.
“Bloody hell,” Stella said through a mouthful of cheese and perfectly toasted bread. “This is brilliant.”
“Language,” Tyler said automatically, finally raising his head.
“What? Bloody’s not a swear word.”
“It absolutely is.”
“Not in Australia it’s not. You want me to say ‘gosh golly’ instead?”
But she was almost smiling, the first genuine expression Meg had seen from her. “But seriously, this is like, stupid good.”
“Secret family recipe,” Tyler said quietly. “Apparently you come by it honestly.”
Stella paused mid-chew, processing that. The idea that she came by anything honestly from this family she didn’t know.
They ate in relative silence after that, the simple act of sharing food somehow easing the tension. Around them, the Beach Shack carried on—coffee grinding, orders called, Bernie’s laugh cutting through the din.
“Is that guy staring at me?” Stella asked, jerking her head toward Bernie’s table.
“That’s Bernie,” Meg said. “He stares at everyone.”
“He’s harmless,” Luke added. “Mostly.”
“Mostly?” Stella raised an eyebrow.
“He might tell you about his trick knee,” Tyler warned. “At length.”
“His what now?”
“He predicts weather with it,” Meg explained. “Supposedly.”
“That’s...” Stella paused. “Actually kind of cool.”
