Page 26 of The Beach Shack (Laguna Beach #1)

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

This was her element—analyzing systems, creating solutions. And unlike her client work, these improvements would directly benefit her family.

She’d identified three main areas for improvement: order flow, inventory management, and staffing allocation.

The current system—if it could even be called that— relied heavily on Margo’s intuition and decades of experience rather than any standardized process.

While that might have worked for years, Meg knew that proper systems would make everything run more smoothly, especially during peak periods.

“You’ve been busy,” Margo observed, eyebrows raised as she surveyed the transformed dining area.

“I thought we could have a quick team meeting before opening,” Meg explained. “I’ve come up with some ideas that I think will help with the weekend rushes.”

Margo’s expression was unreadable, but she nodded. “I’ll put on coffee.”

Joey arrived next, his usual morning cheerfulness faltering slightly when he saw the charts and diagrams covering the wall. “Whoa. Are we being audited or something?”

“Just some improvements I’ve been working on,” Meg assured him. “Nothing to worry about.”

Lisa and Dante arrived together minutes later, both looking equally bemused by the setup.

As they gathered around the table with coffee, Meg felt a flutter of nervousness that she quickly suppressed.

This was a small beach restaurant staff, not a boardroom of executives.

If anything, this presentation was overqualified for the audience.

“Thanks for coming in a few minutes early,” Meg began, handing out her neatly prepared packets. “After seeing how hectic things got this weekend, I’ve identified some operational adjustments that should help us work more efficiently.”

She launched into her presentation, explaining the new order flow system she’d designed, complete with color-coded tickets and standardized abbreviations. The staff listened politely, though Meg noticed Joey and Lisa exchange glances when she described the detailed inventory tracking sheets.

“And finally, I’ve created a heat map of peak service times to optimize staffing,” she concluded, pointing to the last chart. “This would mean slightly staggered shifts instead of everyone starting and ending at the same time.”

A moment of silence followed as the staff looked over the materials. Meg waited for the appreciation, the recognition of how these changes would improve their working conditions.

“So... we’d need to write all this information down for each order?” Lisa asked finally, pointing to the form that included table number, order time, customer name, and preparation specifications.

“Yes, it creates accountability and tracking,” Meg explained.

“Even during rush periods?” Joey looked skeptical. “We can barely keep up with orders as it is. ”

“That’s the point,” Meg said. “This system would make those rush periods more manageable.”

“I’ve worked here three summers,” Joey said carefully, “and I’m not sure we have time to fill out forms when there’s a line out the door.”

“It only adds seconds per order,” Meg countered, feeling a familiar tension building in her chest—the same resistance she sometimes encountered from clients who couldn’t see the big picture.

Dante, who’d been quietly reviewing the staffing chart, looked up. “I can’t come in at 10:30 instead of 11. I have classes until 10:15, and it takes me at least twenty minutes to get here from campus.”

“And I pick up my little brother from summer program on Thursdays at 2:30,” Lisa added. “That’s why I work the morning shift.”

Meg hadn’t considered these personal constraints.

“We can work around some exceptions,” she conceded. “But the overall system?—”

“Customers don’t eat spreadsheets,” Joey said with a good-natured smile that didn’t quite hide his skepticism. “They come here for Margo’s grilled cheese and the vibe, you know? Not because we’re super efficient.”

Though clearly not intended maliciously, the comment stung. Meg had spent hours developing these improvements, convinced they would make a meaningful difference, only to have them dismissed as irrelevant to the Beach Shack’s true purpose.

“Joey has a point,” Margo said gently. “Our customers value consistency and connection more than speed. Some of our regulars would be confused if we suddenly changed how we’ve done things for decades.”

Meg felt her professional confidence deflating. “But the weekend backups?—”

“Are part of the Beach Shack experience,” Margo finished for her. “People expect a wait on weekends. They use that time to catch up with neighbors or enjoy the view.”

The staff meeting wound down shortly after, with Joey and Lisa heading to the kitchen to begin prep, Dante arranging tables, and Margo reviewing the day’s specials. None of them had taken Meg’s handouts with them.

She remained at the table, looking at the charts and analyses that had seemed so insightful hours earlier. In any other context—any normal business—these would be valuable improvements. Why couldn’t they see that?

“Need help taking these down before we open?” Luke’s voice came from behind her, making her start slightly. She hadn’t heard him come in.

“Apparently so,” she replied, unable to keep the disappointment from her voice as she began removing the charts from the wall.

Luke studied her materials for a moment before carefully rolling up one of the larger diagrams. “These are really thorough.”

“And completely rejected,” Meg said, the frustration finally breaking through. “I was just trying to help.”

“Hey.” Luke stepped closer, his voice gentle. “You know what I see here? Someone who cares enough to stay up until 1 AM making charts for a grilled cheese restaurant.”

Despite herself, Meg felt a small smile tugging at her lips. “When you put it like that, it sounds slightly insane.”

“The best kind of insane,” he said with a grin. “Though maybe next time, start with asking Joey what he thinks would help before creating a whole new system?”

“Revolutionary concept,” Meg said dryly.

“I have my moments.” Luke handed her another chart, their fingers brushing. “For what it’s worth, I think your inventory idea could work. Margo’s current system is... creative.”

“Creative?”

“She writes notes on napkins and sticks them to the freezer. Sometimes they fall off.”

Meg laughed despite herself. “Okay, that’s actually terrifying from a business perspective.”

“See? You’re already helping.” Luke’s smile was warm, encouraging rather than condescending. “Just maybe with less... theatrical presentation next time.”

As they finished clearing the table, Meg reassessed not just her approach to the Beach Shack, but her understanding of what made it special in the first place.

She’d been measuring its success by standards that didn’t apply here—efficiency, profitability, scalability—rather than the metrics that actually mattered to Margo and the community .

“Luke?” she called as he headed toward the kitchen. “Thanks. For... you know.”

“Being the voice of experience in failed community interventions?” he suggested with a grin.

“Something like that,” Meg replied, finding herself smiling despite the morning’s disappointment.

She tucked the diagrams into her bag. Maybe the Shack didn’t need fixing. Maybe she did.

The thought made her pause—then smile again—as she tied on her apron and stepped into the morning bustle, the familiar space feeling just a little different.

Her phone buzzed. A text from Brad:

Committee moved the timeline up. Need you back for client presentations next week. This is crunch time, Meg.

Who would’ve guessed a grilled cheese shack could feel more complicated than Mercer & Reid?

She tugged at the ties on her apron and headed into the kitchen, where Joey was already humming off-key while slicing cheese—today it sounded like “Here Comes the Sun,” and Meg found herself humming along before she realized it.