Page 34 of The Beach Shack (Laguna Beach #1)
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
T he morning air carried the fresh scent of ocean and eucalyptus when Meg arrived at the Beach Shack. She’d beaten Margo there for once, and was already starting the coffee when she heard her grandmother’s car pull into the lot.
“Well, well,” Margo said as she came through the back door. “Look who’s become the early bird.”
Meg smiled, pouring water into the coffee maker. “Figured I should get a head start on the day.”
Margo hung up her purse and reached for her apron. “That’s becoming a habit with you.”
“Is that bad?”
“Not at all.” Margo moved to the prep station, beginning her morning ritual of checking supplies and planning the day’s specials.
Again, Meg noticed her grandmother moving just a bit more deliberately than usual, one hand occasionally steadying herself against the counter as she reached for items on higher shelves .
They worked silently together for a while, though Meg found herself glancing at Margo more often, noting the careful way she lifted heavier items and how she paused to catch her breath between tasks.
The familiar morning routine had taken on a different quality—she appreciated everything more, the reliable rhythm they’d developed, the way they moved around each other with growing ease.
"Margo?" Meg said as she arranged napkin dispensers. "I need to drive down to San Clemente tomorrow for a client presentation. It's really important."
Her grandmother looked up from the cutting board. "Of course. How long will you be gone?"
"Just the day. I'll be back by evening." Meg paused, then added, "It's a big account. Could determine whether I can keep working remotely."
Margo's hands stilled for a moment, then resumed their steady chopping. "I see. So this could help you stay longer?"
"Maybe. If it goes well."
Margo set down her knife and turned to face Meg fully. "You know, I haven't properly thanked you."
"For what?"
"For coming back. For dropping everything in San Francisco to help me." Margo's voice was quiet but sincere. "I know what you're giving up. What you've already given up. That means more than you know."
Meg felt her throat tighten. "I wanted to be here."
"I know you did. And I hope tomorrow goes exactly the way you need it to." Margo's smile was warm, genuine. "Joey and Lisa can handle things here. You go take care of your future."
"Our future," Meg corrected softly, surprising herself.
Margo smiled at Meg and her face softened.
She kept working, but the air between them had shifted.
Meg found herself watching Margo differently now—the way she moved through each task without hesitation, the pride that flickered across her face when she talked about the Shack, the calm of someone who’d known her place in the world for a long time.
“The shell ceiling,” Meg said as they finished setting up for the day, following the intricate patterns with her eyes. “It’s like a work of art.”
“It is a work of art,” Margo replied, pausing in her morning routine. “Fifty years next month I’ve been adding to it. Same amount of time I’ve been running this place.”
Meg saw it with new understanding—not just decoration.
“Some projects take that long to fulfill properly,” Margo added quietly.
Before Meg could ask more, Joey arrived for his shift, full of energy and ready to start the day. The moment for deeper conversation passed, but Meg found herself thinking about Margo’s words as the morning rush began.
Some promises take fifty years to fulfill properly .
What promises had her grandmother made? And what role, if any, might Meg play in keeping them?
As the lunch crowd started arriving and the Beach Shack settled into its familiar rhythm, Meg felt a strange mixture of anticipation and reluctance about tomorrow’s presentation.
The opportunity to prove herself in the corporate world she’d worked so hard to conquer felt smaller somehow, less urgent than it had even a week ago.
But it was still important. Still a chance to secure the kind of remote work arrangement that might let her keep one foot in both worlds—the professional success she’d built and the community connections she was rediscovering.
Tomorrow, she would put on her corporate armor and fight for a future that might allow her to belong in both places. Today, she would continue learning how to belong here, in this weathered building where her grandfather’s legacy lived on in small acts of hospitality and community care.