Page 21 of The Beach Shack Artists 3
“That’s exactly how photography works.”
Stella put her camera away carefully. “What time?”
“Pick you up at three-thirty? That’ll give you time to finish at the Shack and grab your camera.”
“Deal.”
“And bring extra memory cards. There’s a lot to document.”
“How much is a lot?”
“Forty-seven pottery booths. And that’s just pottery.”
Stella laughed. “This is going to be interesting.”
“That’s one word for it.”
Outside, the sky darkened and the stars began to twinkle. Tyler watched Stella organize her camera bag with the same careful attention she brought to everything else. But this time, it was for something she was genuinely excited about.
“Thanks for showing me your photos,” he said.
“Thanks for not calling them ‘cute’ or ‘nice for a beginner.’”
“They’re not cute. They’re good. There’s a difference.”
“I know,” Stella said. “That’s why I showed them to you.”
Tyler smiled. This was going to be fun.
CHAPTER NINE
Stella arrived for the lunch shift to find Joey standing at the napkin station, refolding triangles while frozen in what appeared to be a practice pose.
"Those napkins aren't auditioning for Broadway," she said, tying her apron. "You can stop method acting."
"I'm building muscle memory," Joey replied, realigning a stack with obsessive care. "Coffee Drinker Number Two needs to radiate quiet competence. The napkins are my scene partners."
"Coffee Drinker Number Two?" Bea asked, looking up from her artistic order slip.
"Pageant of the Masters," Joey explained, immediately looking both proud and nervous. "I got cast in the still life tableau. I have to stay perfectly still for three whole minutes while people stare at me."
"That's amazing!" Bea said. "Mom and I should totally come watch!"
"Do they get billing?" Stella asked, gesturing at the napkins.
"Supporting cast." Joey held up a triangle, examining it like a diamond. "This one's feeling insecure about its corners."
"Maybe it needs therapy," Stella suggested, moving toward the register where an order ticket was causing obvious distress.
"Don't mock the process," Joey said.
Stella looked over at the register, where Bea's latest artistic interpretation of table orders was causing confusion. Today's creation featured what appeared to be a detailed sketch of a butterfly emerging from a flower, surrounded by swirling lines and small hearts.
"Let me guess," Stella said. "Table Four wants grilled cheese."
"How did you know that?" Joey asked, breaking his pose to stare at her in amazement.
"The butterfly means transformation. Grilled cheese is bread turning into something golden. Plus it says 'grilled cheese' in tiny letters at the bottom." Stella handed him a regular order pad.
