Page 23 of The Beach Shack (Laguna Beach #1)
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
A few hours after coffee with Natalie and Paige, Meg hummed her way through the produce section of Laguna Village Market—a place, and a mood, she’d nearly forgotten.
The late afternoon sun streamed through the storefront windows, and she had nowhere urgent to be—a novelty that still felt strange but increasingly welcome.
She’d left the Beach Shack in a surprisingly good mood after defending it to the Hales, and Natalie’s comment about “the old Meg defending something she cares about” had stuck with her.
When was the last time she’d felt genuinely passionate about something beyond quarterly targets and client retention?
But it wasn’t just the Beach Shack that had her feeling lighter.
It was this morning’s coffee with Natalie and Paige—three hours that had flown by like minutes, filled with the kind of easy laughter she’d forgotten existed.
They’d picked up their friendship exactly where they’d left it, as if the years of distance had been nothing more than a long pause.
Meg selected a bunch of fresh basil, remembering Anna’s recent complaints about the wilted herbs in Florence grocery stores. The memory sparked an impulse she didn’t question—she wanted to share her good news with someone who would understand what it meant.
She paid for her groceries and found a quiet bench outside the market, pulling out her phone before she could overthink it.
Anna answered on the second ring, her voice bright with surprise. “Twice in one week? Are you having a crisis or did you accidentally call me?”
“Neither,” Meg laughed. “I have good news for once.”
“Oh my gosh, really? Actual good news? Hold on, let me sit down.” Meg heard shuffling sounds and what might have been Anna dramatically settling into a chair. “Okay, I’m ready. Hit me.”
“I had coffee with Natalie and Paige this morning.”
A beat of silence. Then: “You what?”
“Coffee. With my old friends. For three hours.” Meg found herself grinning at Anna’s obvious shock. “Remember them? Natalie Rodriguez and Paige Campbell? They still live here, and we?—”
“Wait, wait, wait.” Anna’s voice pitched higher. “You actually reached out to people? And then you actually went? And you stayed that long?”
“Is that really so hard to believe? ”
“Meg, you haven’t taken a three-hour lunch break in your entire adult life. You barely take three-minute coffee breaks.” Anna sounded genuinely amazed. “What happened? Did they hold you hostage with friendship?”
Meg laughed, settling back against the bench. “It was... easy. Like we’d talked yesterday instead of years ago. Natalie’s teaching high school English now—she just won some state award for innovative curriculum. And Paige has this event planning business that’s expanding like crazy.”
“And you didn’t check your phone once during this three-hour coffee marathon?”
“Only when it rang with a work call, which I ignored.”
“You IGNORED a work call?” Anna’s voice climbed another octave. “Who are you and what have you done with my sister?”
“Very funny.” But Meg was smiling. Anna’s shock was actually helping her appreciate how significant this morning had been. “They invited me to First Thursday Art Walk next week, and I said yes to that too.”
“Art Walk? Meg, that’s like... voluntary fun. With no agenda.”
“I know. Weird, right?”
They were both quiet for a moment, but it was the comfortable kind of silence that had become familiar during their recent calls.
“I’m really happy for you,” Anna said finally, her voice softer now. “I mean that. When’s the last time you did something just because it sounded fun? ”
Meg thought about it. “Honestly? I can’t remember.”
“That’s what I was afraid of.” Anna paused. “How do you feel? About reconnecting with them?”
“Good. Really good.” Meg watched a family walk past, the parents pushing a stroller while their toddler ran circles around them on the sidewalk. “It reminded me of who I used to be, I guess. Before everything got so... structured.”
“You mean before you decided friendship was inefficient?”
“I never said that!”
“You didn’t have to. You stopped calling, stopped visiting, stopped making time for anything that wasn’t directly related to climbing the corporate ladder.” Anna’s tone wasn’t accusatory, just matter-of-fact. “We all noticed.”
The words stung because they were true. “I thought I was being focused. Goal-oriented.”
“Definitely. But that’s what makes this morning so amazing. You let yourself be vulnerable to friendship again. That’s huge, Meg.”
“It didn’t feel vulnerable. It felt... natural.”
“Even better.” Anna’s voice carried a smile. “So what’s the plan? Weekly coffee dates? Girls’ nights? Please tell me you’re not going to overthink this back into the ground.”
Meg laughed. “Art Walk next Thursday, then dinner. Paige apparently has photos from senior beach week that I need to see ‘preferably while drinking mimosas.’ ”
“Oh good grief, those photos. I hope you’re prepared for your questionable fashion choices to be immortalized forever.”
“Says the woman who wore that tutu to prom.”
“It was artistic! And I looked fabulous.” Anna paused. “Bea’s going to be so excited when I tell her you’re making friends. She’s been worried you were lonely.”
“She’s been worried about me?”
“Kids notice things. She asked me once why you always sounded tired on the phone, and whether you had anyone to have fun with in San Francisco.” Anna’s voice grew thoughtful. “I didn’t have a good answer.”
Meg absorbed this unexpected insight into her teenage niece’s perception of her life. “Did I really sound that isolated?”
“You sounded careful. Like you were afraid to want anything you couldn’t control.” Anna hesitated. “But you sound different now. Lighter.”
A couple walked past Meg’s bench, the woman laughing at something her partner had whispered in her ear.
“Anna? Can I ask you something?”
“Always.”
“How do you know when you’re ready to... I don’t know, let someone matter to you again?”
Anna was quiet for so long Meg wondered if the connection had cut out. Finally: “Are we talking about friends, or are we talking about someone specific?”
“I’m not sure. ”
“Ah.” Anna’s voice carried a knowing warmth. “Well, in my extensive experience with matters of the heart—which consists mainly of one marriage, one divorce, and a lot of really good therapy—I’d say you’re ready when the fear of missing out starts feeling bigger than the fear of getting hurt.”
Meg considered this. “That’s surprisingly wise.”
“I have my moments. Plus, Dr. Martinez charges me two hundred dollars an hour for insights like that, so I’m basically a relationship expert now.” Anna paused. “Oh my gosh, this is about Luke, isn’t it? ”
Heat rose to Meg’s cheeks. “We’re just... he’s been helpful. With understanding the Beach Shack culture.”
“Uh-huh. And does this helpful Beach Shack cultural consultant happen to be single?”
“Anna!”
“I’m just asking! Research purposes only.” Anna’s grin was audible. “Look, all I’m saying is that if someone makes you want to take three-hour coffee breaks and ignore work calls, maybe pay attention to that impulse.”
A text notification chimed on Meg’s phone—probably Brad with another urgent issue. For once, she didn’t even glance at it.
“I should let you go,” Meg said. “I’m sure you have important art things to do.”
“Important art things can wait. This is much more interesting.” Anna paused. “Meg? I’m proud of you. For reaching out to Natalie and Paige, for letting yourself enjoy it, for calling to tell me about it. That’s the sister I remember.”
“The sister who drove you crazy with her color-coded study schedules?”
“That’s the one.” Anna’s voice grew soft.
After they hung up, Meg sat on the bench for a few more minutes, watching the easy rhythm of small-town life flow around her. Couples walking hand in hand, kids on bicycles, neighbors stopping to chat on the sidewalk.
Her phone buzzed again—another work message she didn’t check. Instead, she gathered her groceries and walked slowly back to Tyler’s house.
Tonight, she would make herself a proper dinner using the fresh basil. Maybe call Anna back just to hear about Bea’s latest art project. Maybe even text Natalie about Thursday’s plans.
Simple things. Good things. The kind of things that couldn’t be optimized or scheduled, only enjoyed.