Page 83 of The Beach Shack Artists 3
“Some fears are reasonable,” Tyler said, but he was smiling.
Stella watched them remember. Family history. Shared stories. The kind of belonging she’d never had before this summer.
Margo held the shells in her palm. “I’m not as steady as I used to be.”
“That’s why you have us,” Bea said simply.
They arranged themselves around the step ladder carefully. Tyler and Meg held the sides. Anna and Bea steadied the base, while Joey positioned himself to spot from behind.
“Stella?” Margo asked. “Would you help me up?”
Stella felt her throat tighten.
“Of course,” she said.
She stood steady, reaching for Margo’s hand. “Careful,” Tyler murmured, his voice tight with protective worry.
“I’ve got her,” Stella said, and meant it.
Margo climbed slowly, her hand warm and steady in Stella’s. At the top, she paused, looking out over the ceiling that told the story of her life in shells and memories.
“Where should they go?” Stella asked softly.
Margo pointed to a spot near the center where morning light would catch them. “There. Next to the shells from Rick’s first visit back.”
Stella watched Margo place each shell carefully—the small pink ones from the Walker grandchildren nestled beside a larger conch that had been there for twenty years, the Harts’ smooth gray stones creating a new constellation near the window.
Below them, her family held the ladder steady. Held held steady.
“Perfect,” Margo said quietly.
“Need help getting down?” Stella asked.
“Just stay close.”
She climbed down slowly. When Margo’s feet touched the floor, she looked up at the new additions.
“Fifty years of shells,” she said.
“Fifty years of belonging,” Anna said gently.
Tyler stepped forward. “You don’t have to do this alone anymore, you know. The shells, the Shack, any of it.”
“We’re all in,” Meg added. “Really in. Not just helping when it’s convenient.”
“The ceiling is ours to maintain now too,” Stella said, then stopped. The words had come out automatically, but they felt presumptuous. She was supposed to leave. She wasn’t supposed to be part of maintaining anything.
“All of us,” Anna said, including her without hesitation.
Stella felt her eyes burn.
Meg smiled. “Your traditions become our traditions,” she said quietly. “Your legacy becomes our responsibility.”
“But shared responsibility,” Bea clarified. “Not just dumped on one person.”
“No more carrying everything by yourself,” Joey added. “We’ve got you.”
Margo looked around at all of them. “All right,” she said, her voice rough with emotion. “All right, then.”
