Page 94 of The Beach Shack Summer
They stood in the living room, the moment suddenly real. Meg was moving out. Three doors, but still out.
“I’ll see you tomorrow,” Meg said. “At the Shack.”
“Right. Tomorrow.”
“It’s literally three houses,” Stella pointed out. “You can probably hear each other if you yell.”
“Please don’t yell,” Meg said.
“I make no promises,” Stella replied.
Finally, reluctantly, they filed out. Meg stood in the doorway, watching her sad parade walk back home. Tyler turned around twice, like he might come back for his stapler. Stella waved once, casual-like. Luke blew her a kiss.
The house felt enormous around her.
Tyler stared at his kitchen, which somehow looked wrong without Meg’s papers covering every surface.
“So,” Stella said. “Dinner?”
“Right. Dinner.” He opened the refrigerator with confidence. Then closed it. Opened it again. “We have eggs.”
“Breakfast for dinner?”
“No, that’s...” He closed the refrigerator. “Pizza?”
“Sure.”
They stood there, neither moving to actually order.
“We could...” Stella started, stopped. “Never mind.”
“What?”
“Nothing. Just, we could get pizza and maybe check if Meg needs anything? For her new place? She probably hasn’t eaten.”
Tyler tried not to look pathetically grateful. “That’s very thoughtful.”
“It’s practical. We should make sure she’s settled. For emergencies.”
“Exactly. Emergencies.”
They ordered too much—pizza, salads, breadsticks, dessert. While waiting, they drifted around the house like ghosts.
“It’s quiet,” Stella observed.
“Yeah.”
“And empty.”
When the food arrived, they packed it up like a rescue mission. Tyler grabbed plates from the cabinet, then paused. "Wait. She's moving into a fully furnished house."
"So?" Stella asked, already wrapping napkins.
"So she has plates."
"Notourplates." Stella added beverages to their pile. "Plus Herbert needs to visit. Scope out the territory."
Tyler looked at their unnecessary rescue supplies—plates, napkins, cups, and one succulent—and shrugged. "Fine. But we look ridiculous."
