Page 62 of The Beach Shack Artists 3
That landed. He could see it in both their faces. Even Meg didn’t deflect it.
“I don’t need everyone to be perfect,” Meg said. “But I need to know we’re not just going to revert back the minute something goes sideways.”
Anna nodded. “So we don’t ghost. Or martyr. Or self-destruct. We just... stay. Even when it’s hard.”
Tyler felt something shift in his chest. “I can work with that.” He paused, looking at both of them. “Actually, I need to say something. Stella’s the one who taught me this—that avoiding problems doesn’t make them disappear. She’s been handling more responsibility than I have, and she’s sixteen.”
“Stella’s pretty amazing,” Anna said quietly.
“She is. And I want her to choose to stay at the end of the summer. At this rate, I wouldn’t blame her for running back to Australia with her hair on fire.” Tyler let that sit for a moment, watching both his sisters absorb it. “She deserves better than a totally dysfunctional family. You both do too.”
They sat with that for a moment—a real, tentative agreement. Not a solution, not a ribbon tied around decades of dysfunction. But a start.
Anna looked down at her coffee, then back at them. “So we’re really doing this? All of us?”
Tyler studied his sisters’ faces. “Here’s the thing—we all have other lives. Real careers. Anna, you’re teaching, right?”
“Just summer break,” Anna said. “I go back in the fall.”
“And Meg, your marketing job isn’t exactly part-time.”
Meg sighed. “Sixty hours a week, minimum. And Tyler, your photography business is finally taking off.”
“Exactly.” Tyler leaned forward. “So how do we commit to Margo and the Shack without destroying everything else we’ve built?”
“We do it together,” Anna said slowly. “Actually together. Not taking turns being responsible.”
Meg looked thoughtful. “I could work remotely during the week, be here weekends. If we can figure out Wi-Fi and some control over the business systems.”
“And I could relocate part-time,” Anna added. “Teach some workshops here. Community art stuff. The Shack could be a base for that.”
Tyler felt the pieces clicking together. “I’m already here. I could handle the daily operations, the photography documentation. But I’d need backup for when I have shoots.”
“We’d need to actually coordinate,” Meg said. “Real schedules. Clear responsibilities.”
“A system that doesn’t depend on one person holding it all together,” Anna agreed.
Tyler watched his sisters processing it all, seeing the same realization dawn on both their faces. This could actually work—if they really committed to being a team.
“We need a system,” Meg said. “Not just hope. A schedule. Clear roles. A shared calendar.”
“Oh God,” Anna groaned. “You’re already project-managing us.”
Tyler held up a hand before they could spiral back into old patterns. “Wait, before we fall into our usual thing—can we come up with a code word? Like, when someone’s going Full Walsh?”
“Full Walsh?” Meg repeated, looking both offended and intrigued.
“You know,” Anna said, eyes lighting up. “Like when Meg starts laminating things or I start turning the dining room into an art installation without permission.”
“Or when Tyler pretends he has an urgent photo shoot to avoid conflict,” Meg added, giving him a pointed look.
Tyler grinned. “Guilty. But exactly. We need a signal for when we’re reverting to type.”
“Fine,” Meg said. “But it has to be something so ridiculous that we can’t ignore it.”
Tyler thought for a moment, then started laughing. “What about... ‘Gravy spatula’?”
Anna laughed out loud. “From the Thanksgiving Incident!”
