Page 41 of The Beach Shack Artists 3
“She had to have learned something. Seeing Mrs. Borden looking lost, watching Bernie trying to navigate around his displaced booth—Anna’s not heartless. She cares about people.” Meg found another rock to throw. “Besides, she got it out of her system. The Florence Method is officially implemented and retired.”
They continued walking, the conversation shifting to Luke’s research and the health of the local tide pool ecosystem. But Meg found herself relaxing for the first time since the morning revelation.
“Can I ask you something?” she said as they turned back toward the parking area.
“Always.”
“Do you think I overreacted? Getting stressed about the furniture situation?”
Luke considered this carefully. “I think you saw a problem and solved it. That’s what good managers do.”
“Sometimes I wonder if I worry too much about things that might resolve themselves.”
“Maybe. But today your customers needed help finding somewhere to sit. That’s pretty immediate.”
Meg felt validated. “Exactly. It wasn’t like I could just leave people wandering around confused.”
They’d reached their cars, but neither moved to leave. The morning sun was warm on Meg’s face, and the tension from Anna’s artistic experiment had finally dissolved.
“Thanks for listening,” she said. “And for not telling me I’m overthinking things.”
“Are you overthinking things?”
“Probably. But at least the crisis is over.” She unlocked her car door. “And I’m sure Anna will stick to her art projects from now on. This was enough restaurant improvement for anyone.”
Luke stepped closer, his hand finding hers. “Well, if any more artistic chaos happens, you know where to find me.”
“Even if it’s the same complaint multiple times?”
“Especially then. I’m good at listening to people process restaurant drama.”
Meg smiled, feeling lighter. The Anna situation was resolved, lessons had been learned, and life could go back to normal. “I should get back. Anna’s probably in the kitchen helping Margo with prep.”
“Will you be okay?”
“I’ll be fine. I’m always fine.” She squeezed his hand. “Besides, what’s the worst that could happen? Anna redesign the menu?”
“Don’t give her ideas.”
“After this morning? Trust me, Anna’s had enough of restaurant improvements for a while.”
Luke laughed, and Meg felt the last of her morning stress disappear. Sometimes all you needed was someone who understood why you had to fix things, even when fixing things was exhausting.
The Anna situation was handled. Everything was back to normal. And most importantly, Anna had learned her lesson.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Margo watched Meg fuss over the table settings for the third time, adjusting the string lights and smoothing imaginary wrinkles from the tablecloth. Decades of family dinners, and Meg was treating this one like a performance. Braised short ribs with red wine reduction, roasted vegetables arranged like a magazine spread, homemade focaccia still warm from the oven, compound butter sculpted into perfect rosettes.
“This looks amazing,” Luke said sincerely as he helped pour wine. “Meg, you’ve outdone yourself.”
“Just something simple,” Meg replied, her smile tight.
Stella gave her aunt a look. “Simple? You made compound butter rosettes.”
“Presentation matters,” Meg said, smoothing her dress before taking her seat.
Margo settled into her chair, noting the careful choreography. Even Luke seemed to sense the undercurrent of tension, though he couldn’t possibly understand what he was walking into.
