Page 128 of The Beach Shack Summer
“Love ya, ya dag,” she murmured against his shoulder.
“Language,” he muttered automatically.
She grinned. “Yeah, nah. This is the good kind.”
And that, in the end, was everything.
EPILOGUE
The Beach Shack was in its sweet spot—post-lunch lull before closing. Stella worked the register while Joey obsessively reorganized his napkin station for the third time. Tyler was at the grill, showing Lisa some new sandwich technique, and Margo sat at her usual spot, going through receipts.
Meg’s phone rang just as she finished wiping down the last table. Anna’s face filled the screen, Bea visible in the background packing what looked like art supplies.
“Perfect timing!” Anna said without preamble. “We’re coming home early!”
“What?” Meg nearly dropped the phone. “When?”
“Friday! The Florence program is cutting the session short because of some flooding in the gallery district. Minor damage, but they’re closing for repairs.” Anna was practically vibrating with excitement. “We’ll be there for all the festivals!”
“This Friday? As in four days from now?”
“Surprise!” Bea leaned into frame, grinning. “Mom’s already planning which events we’re hitting first.”
Tyler wandered over, drawn by Meg’s excited squeak. “Anna?”
“Tyler! Perfect! Tell Stella we’ll be there for the Pageant of the Masters! I already got tickets!”
“The what now?” Stella had abandoned the register, Joey taking over smoothly.
“The Pageant of the Masters,” Anna repeated. “It’s this incredible?—“
“Weird,” Tyler interjected.
“—artistic experience where real people pose as famous paintings on stage.”
Stella blinked. “Real people... pose as paintings?”
“With full theatrical lighting and orchestral music,” Meg added. “It’s actually quite moving.”
“It’s bizarre,” Tyler corrected. “But in a weirdly compelling way.”
“Joey’s in it this year!” Anna announced. “He’s in the Crab Cooker painting! We just found out—grabbed tickets as soon as we heard we’d be back!”
Everyone turned to stare at Joey, who’d gone bright red.
“You’re in the Pageant?” Stella asked. “As what?”
“It’s nothing,” Joey mumbled. “Just a small part.”
“He’s Coffee Drinker Number Two,” Bernie called from his corner. “Table on the left.”
“Coffee Drinker Number Two?” Stella’s eyes lit up with unholy glee.
“It’s a very important coffee drinker,” Joey said. “I have to hold the cup at exactly the right angle for ninety seconds!”
“Ninety seconds?” Stella pressed. “You just sit there frozen, pretending to drink coffee?”
“It’s harder than it sounds! Do you know how heavy a coffee cup gets after ninety seconds? And the lights are hot! And if you move even a little bit, you ruin the whole tableau!”
