Page 28 of The Beach Shack Summer
They continued their prep, falling back into the rhythm they’d shared for years. The hurt was still there, might always be there, but it was softened now by possibility. By the chance to know this girl who carried their eyes and their stubbornness and their way of pausing before that first perfect bite.
“Margo?” Tyler said as they heard the first customers arriving.
“Mm?”
“I love you. You know that, right?”
She looked at her grandson—this man who’d carried secrets and fears for so long, who was trying so hard to do right by everyone.
“I know,” she said simply. “I love you too. Now wash those tomatoes properly. We have people to feed.”
It wasn’t complete forgiveness, not yet. But it was a beginning. And in the morning light of the Beach Shack, with Joey’s humming and the coffee brewing and the promise of a new day ahead, a beginning was enough.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Tyler returned from the Beach Shack feeling raw but somehow lighter. Margo’s hug still lingered, her quiet “I love you too” echoing in his chest. He’d expected anger, disappointment, maybe even rejection. Instead, he’d gotten Margo being Margo—steady, practical, already planning to great-grandmother Stella “thoroughly.”
He found Meg in the kitchen, staring at the coffee maker like it held the secrets of the universe.
“How did it go?” she asked without turning around.
“Better than I deserved.” Tyler slumped against the counter. “She hugged me.”
“Of course she did.” Meg finally looked at him. “You okay?”
“I think so. Maybe. Joey’s already planning to teach Stella all twelve variations of grilled cheese.”
“Twelve variations?”
“He counts different cheese combinations asseparate items. He’s very serious about it.” Tyler smiled. “He’s thrilled. Apparently, Stella making the same face I do when trying new coffee is ‘genetic, probably.’”
Meg smiled. “That sounds like Joey.”
A knock interrupted them—three quick raps, pause, one more.
“That’s Luke,” Meg said, moving toward the door.
“How do you know?”
“His knock is distinctive.” She opened the door to find Luke holding a pink bakery box and a carrier of coffee cups. “Peace offering?”
“Figured everyone could use some sugar therapy after yesterday.” Luke stepped inside, his easy presence immediately making the space feel less fraught. “Morning, Tyler. How’s everyone doing?”
“Surviving,” Tyler said. “Is that from South Swell donuts?”
“Best donuts in Laguna. Got a variety—maple bars, chocolate glazed, couple of old-fashioneds.”
“Strategic donut selection,” Meg observed.
The sound of a door opening made them all turn. Stella emerged from the hallway, hair in a messy bun, wearing the same Pearl Jam t-shirt and flannel pajama pants. She stopped short at the sight of Luke.
“Morning,” Luke said easily. “I brought donuts.”
Stella’s gaze flicked between all of them. “The marine biologist.”
“Same as yesterday. The maple bars are particularly good today.”
She approached cautiously. “Why particularly good today?”
