Page 7 of The Beach Shack Artists 3
“Or,” Margo said, an idea forming, “while everyone’s here to figure out who actually wants it.”
Rick frowned. “What do you mean?”
“I mean maybe I should find out if any of them are ready for this responsibility—or even want it, before I make legal decisions about their futures.”
“Margo—”
“They’re all adults, Rick. They’ve all worked here growing up. But working somewhere and wanting to dedicate your life to it—those are different things.”
The front door chimed and Bernie entered, taking in the scene with the practiced eye of someone who’d witnessed fifty years of family meetings.
“Morning, Margo. Rick.” Bernie settled at his usual booth, keeping his distance. “Official business?”
“Estate planning,” Rick said.
“Ah.” Bernie pulled out his tablet. “Long overdue.”
“Very helpful, Bernie,” Margo said dryly.
“I’m just saying, succession planning is crucial for any family business.” Bernie’s fingers flew over his screen. “Actually, I’ve got some interesting data on family restaurant transitions?—“
“Not now, Bernie,” Rick interrupted.
But Margo was already thinking. Rick’s urgency was real—the legal danger was genuine. But the timing... Anna arriving, all three grandchildren together for the first time in years...
“I’ll make the decisions,” she said finally. “But I need to know if they’re ready to live with the consequences.”
“What does that mean?” Rick asked.
“It means,” Margo said, watching Bernie pretend not to listen while obviously cataloging every word, “maybe it’s time to see how they handle things when I’m not fixing everything.”
Rick looked alarmed. “This isn’t the time for games.”
“Not games. Observation.” Margo stood, moving toward the kitchen. “You want me to make legal decisions about their futures? Fine. But first I want to see if they can handle the present.”
“How long?” Rick called after her.
“Give me a few weeks,” she said over her shoulder. “Just a few weeks to see which of them notices when the plates start wobbling.”
As she pushed through the kitchen door, she heard Bernie chuckle and Rick groan. But her mind was already working, already planning.
Anna would arrive with her artistic visions and her sixteen-year-old daughter. All three grandchildren would be here, together, probably for the last time before everything changed forever.
Time to find out which of them was ready for the responsibility of carrying on what she and Richard had built.
The legal papers could wait. But not for long.
“So,” Bernie said after Rick had left with promises to call the estate attorney and schedule meetings a few weeks out, “testing them, are we?”
“I prefer ‘observing,’” Margo said, settling across from him with fresh coffee.
“And what exactly are we observing for?”
“Whether they can handle responsibility when things get difficult. Whether they show up when it matters. Whether they actually want this place or just feel obligated to it.”
Bernie made notes on his tablet. “I’ll need to adjust the betting pool.”
“You have a betting pool on my estate planning?”
