Page 68 of The Beach Shack Artists 3
Anna and Bea exchanged glances.
"Did we pass?" Anna asked.
Stella looked around the restaurant, where customers were happily drinking backup coffee, backup coffee makers were put away, and everyone was calm and caffeinated.
"Yeah," she said. "You definitely passed."
Tyler chose that moment to arrive, stopping in the doorway to survey the scene. Multiple coffee makers, satisfied customers, his family working together with obvious coordination and mutual respect.
"Do I want to know?" he asked.
"Coffee machine died," Stella explained. "Anna and Bea handled backup procurement. Crisis resolved through teamwork and clearly defined roles."
Tyler looked at the setup, then at Anna and Bea, who were cleaning up their emergency supplies without trying to reorganize the entire coffee station.
"How do you feel about that?" he asked Stella.
Stella paused for a moment. Three weeks ago, this crisis would have meant her scrambling to solve everything while Anna and Bea created artistic interpretations of coffee culture. Today, it had meant actual partnership.
"I feel like we're finally figuring out how to be a family that works together instead of just working around each other."
"Good," Tyler said, pulling out his camera. "Mind if I document the aftermath? This feels like something worth remembering."
"As long as you don't try to direct the scene," Stella said with a grin. "We're still in post-crisis recovery mode."
"Wouldn't dream of interfering," Tyler replied, already focusing his lens on the scene of controlled chaos that had somehow changed to success.
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
Meg had outdone herself. The dining room table looked like something from a cookbook - perfect chicken, vegetables arranged just so, fresh bread that smelled amazing. Even the water glasses were filled exactly right.
“Wow, Meg,” Tyler said, sitting down. “This is incredible.”
“Are those... arranged vegetables?” Luke asked, staring at his plate. “Did you do that on purpose?”
“The only art I know how to make,” Meg said, but she looked pleased.
Stella watched Anna pick up her fork and actually sit down normally instead of immediately launching into some artistic interpretation of dinner. Progress.
“Notice anything else?” Meg asked, looking around the table.
Bea glanced around. “Everything looks... calm?”
“Exactly,” Meg said. “No chaos, no surprise presentations, no oceanic murals.”
Anna winced. “Are we ever going to let me live that down?”
“Not anytime soon,” Tyler said.
“I can only imagine what’s next,” Stella said. “Knowing this family, we’d probably find a way to turn dinner rolls into drama.”
“Don’t give Anna ideas,” Tyler warned.
“Hey,” Anna said, then stopped herself. “Actually, bread sculpture could be interesting. Very temporary medium, commentary on the fleeting nature of?—”
“Gravy spatula,” Meg said quietly.
Anna blinked. “Right. Eating dinner, not deconstructing it. Got it.”
