Page 35 of The Beach Shack (Laguna Beach #1)

CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

M eg had always thought of client meetings as theater.

Not deceitful, but choreographed—every word intentional, every pause calculated.

But this morning, as she adjusted her blazer in Tyler’s driveway, she realized something had changed.

She didn’t feel like she was stepping into character. She just felt... ready.

“You sure you want me here?” Luke asked, leaning against her car.

He wore chinos, a button-down that looked like it had met an iron at some point, and shoes—actual shoes.

Closed-toe. Clean. Meg had raised an eyebrow when he showed up looking almost alarmingly professional. He might have even shaved.

“You clean up well,” she said, fighting a smile.

“I aim to impress.” He tilted his head toward his feet. “Though I had to retire my ‘Surf Happens’ shirt for the occasion.”

“Tragic. ”

“Moment of silence,” he said solemnly, then slid into the passenger seat.

The drive down Pacific Coast Highway felt different with Luke beside her. Meg had made this stretch of road hundreds of times as a teenager—windows down, music loud, the ocean a constant blue companion on the right. But this morning, it felt like traveling between two versions of herself.

“You’re quiet,” Luke observed as they passed through Dana Point.

“Just running through the presentation in my head,” Meg said, which was partly true.

The other part—the part where she was questioning whether she’d lost her mind asking her old surf instructor to accompany her to what Brad insisted was a crucial client reassurance meeting—seemed less worth mentioning.

“How many times have you practiced it?”

“Honestly? I lost count after twelve.”

Luke laughed. “Sounds about right for you. Remember when you used to practice those debate speeches? I could recite them backward.”

Meg glanced at him. “You remember that?”

“I remember everything about those summers.” His voice carried something she couldn’t quite identify. “Including how you always got that little crease between your eyebrows when you were nervous.”

Meg’s hand went unconsciously to her forehead. “I do not.”

“You’re doing it right now.”

She caught her reflection in the rearview mirror and, sure enough, there it was. She forced her face to relax.

“Meg.” Luke’s voice was gentler now. “You’ve got this. I’ve seen you work, remember? You’re brilliant at what you do.”

The San Clemente Resort appeared ahead of them, a sprawling Spanish Revival complex that cascaded down the bluffs toward a private beach.

Meg had worked with them for months now, but seeing it in person again stirred something closer to inspiration.

Her remote work had been successful, but Brad was convinced an in-person meeting was necessary to cement their confidence in the arrangement.

“Still impressive,” Luke said as they pulled into the circular drive.

Meg parked and checked her reflection one more time. Her hair had cooperated despite the ocean air, her makeup was intact, and her designer blazer made her look like someone who could manage multi-million dollar campaigns from anywhere.

“You look perfect,” Luke said, reading her expression. “Very corporate warrior princess.”

“That’s the goal.” She gathered her materials, then paused. “Luke? Thank you. For coming with me. I know it’s weird?—“

“It’s not weird,” he said firmly. “It’s what friends do.”

The word ‘friends’ hung between them for a moment.

The conference room overlooked the Pacific, floor-to-ceiling windows framing a view that could sell itself.

Meg set up her laptop while the San Clemente team filtered in—marketing director James, general manager, CFO, and the property owner, Margaret Cassidy, who greeted Meg like the valued consultant she’d become.

As they entered the conference room, Meg handed Luke her laptop bag and portfolio case.

“Here,” she said with a slight smile, “you can be my assistant today.”

Luke raised an eyebrow but played along perfectly.

“Of course, Ms. Walsh. Where would you like me to set up your materials?” He arranged her presentation materials at the front of the room with professional efficiency, then took a seat where he could assist if needed.

“Meg,” Margaret said, extending her hand warmly. “So good to finally meet in person. Your remote work has been exceptional, but we’re thrilled you could come down to present the Phase Two strategy face-to-face.”

“Thank you for insisting on it,” Meg replied. “Sometimes the best ideas come from being in the space you’re marketing.”

"I have Brad Mercer joining us as planned," Meg continued, setting up the conference call.

"Great to have you back, Brad," Margaret said warmly.

Meg dialed and put him on speaker. "Brad, you're on with the team.

" "Good morning, everyone. Margaret, James, always a pleasure," Brad's voice came through clearly.

"After reviewing Meg's Phase Two strategy, I have to say—this is some of her best work yet.

You're going to love what she's put together. "

Margaret smiled. “Exactly what we hoped you’d say. Before we dive into the expansion plans, I have to tell you—the initial campaign results have exceeded every projection. Bookings are up thirty percent, and our guest satisfaction scores are the highest they’ve ever been.”

“The authentic local experience angle has been a game-changer,” James added, pulling up metrics on his tablet. “Guests are staying longer, spending more, and our repeat visitor rate has tripled.”

Meg felt a surge of satisfaction. “That’s exactly what we hoped for. Which brings us to Phase Two.”

She launched into her presentation with the confidence of someone who’d already proven her approach worked.

The slides flowed seamlessly—expansion strategy, new promotion opportunities, and enhanced digital engagement.

But as she spoke, she found herself drawing on insights she could never have gained from a San Francisco office.

“The key to Phase Two,” she said, “is deepening those authentic connections we’ve established. We’re not just marketing a resort anymore—we’re marketing membership in the San Clemente community.”

She clicked to her next slide—a detailed plan for local artisan partnerships, surf instruction programs, and conservation initiatives.

“Your guests don’t just want luxury amenities. They want to feel like they’re contributing to something meaningful. Like they’re part of preserving and celebrating this coastline.”

Margaret leaned forward. “Tell us more about the conservation angle.”

“That’s where local partnerships become crucial.

” Meg gestured toward the windows. “San Clemente has incredible environmental stewardship opportunities. Beach cleanups, reef protection, sustainable tourism practices. These aren’t just marketing angles—they’re authentic ways for guests to connect with place and purpose. ”

Midway through, Jake Cassidy—Margaret’s son who’d joined the family business—leaned forward and squinted at Luke.

“Sorry, side note. Are you Luke Donovan?”

Luke blinked. “Uh... yeah.”

“No way.” Jake turned to the others. “This guy was a surfing legend back in the day. And didn’t you pitch that reef protection initiative to the Pelican Foundation?”

“I did,” Luke said. “Part of a citizen science effort. We’re collecting erosion data along the coast.”

Margaret’s eyes lit up. “That’s perfect. Jake, didn’t the Pelican Foundation just approach us about partnership opportunities?”

“They did,” Jake said excitedly. “They’re looking for coastal properties to pilot their sustainable tourism certification program.”

Meg smoothly incorporated this development into her presentation. “This is exactly the kind of authentic partnership that sets you apart. Not just claiming to care about the environment, but actively participating in its protection.”

She wrapped with a comprehensive timeline: “Phase Two isn’t just about expanding your marketing—it’s about expanding your impact. Creating a model for how luxury hospitality can support local communities and environmental conservation.”

When she finished, the room was quiet for a moment.

“Outstanding,” the CFO said. “This addresses every concern we had about scaling the initial campaign.”

“More than that,” Margaret added. “This confirms we made the right choice trusting you with our brand long-term.”

Margaret’s phone buzzed against the conference table. She glanced at it and her face brightened. “Perfect timing—that’s my father calling from London. He specifically asked to join this presentation.” She answered and put it on speaker. “Dad, Meg just finished presenting Phase Two.”

“Meg,” Reeves’ voice came through clearly despite the distance, warm with genuine enthusiasm.

“I have to say, everything I’ve heard about your remote work has been exceptional.

When we first met, I knew you understood what makes our property special.

The fact that you’ve relocated to be closer to the coast—that tells me everything about your commitment to authenticity. ”

Meg felt her cheeks warm with unexpected emotion. “Thank you, Mr. Reeves. Being here has definitely deepened my understanding of what makes this coastline unique.”

“It shows in your work,” he continued. “Margaret’s been sending me updates, and this conservation partnership approach—that’s exactly the kind of meaningful tourism we want to pioneer. You’re not just marketing our resort, you’re helping us become stewards of something larger.”

“That’s been the goal from the beginning,” Meg replied. “Your family’s history here, the environmental significance of this coastline—those aren’t just selling points. They’re responsibilities.”

“Precisely,” Reeves said, and Meg could hear the smile in his voice. “Margaret, I hope you’re prepared to offer Meg that extended partnership we discussed.”

Margaret beamed. “Already on it, Dad. Meg, we’d like to formalize our partnership with an extended consulting agreement. Are you willing to continue working from your current base?”

Meg felt the world settle into perfect alignment. “Absolutely. The local perspective has been invaluable to this work.”

“Excellent,” Reeves said from London. “Welcome to the family, Meg. Long-term.”

“We’ll have contracts drawn up by next week,” Margaret added as her father ended the call. “And Luke, we’d love to explore that Pelican Foundation connection. Perhaps you and Jake could discuss it over coffee? ”

Forty-five minutes later, Meg walked out of the resort with a long-term commitment, validation that her remote work model was sustainable, and the strangest feeling that she’d just proven something important to herself.

Outside, as they walked across the breezeway toward the parking lot, Jake jogged to catch up.

“Hey, that was incredible. The sustainability angle, the community partnerships—it felt real in a way most marketing doesn’t.” He winked at Luke. “And seriously, let’s talk about that Pelican Foundation connection. They have grant money for exactly this kind of work.”

Luke glanced at Meg, then back at Jake. “I’d love to discuss it. Coffee next week?”

“Perfect. I’ll text you my number.”

As they continued to the car, Meg shook her head in amazement. “A multi-year contract. Brad is going to flip.”

Luke opened the passenger door for her. “The good kind of flip, I assume?”

“The best kind. This proves the remote arrangement isn’t just temporary—it’s the future.”

They drove back along the coast with the windows down, the breeze threading through the quiet like a third passenger.

“I think I just accidentally redesigned my entire career,” Meg said as they crested the hill above Crystal Cove.

“Good accidentally or bad accidentally?”

“Good. I think. I still can’t believe they want a three-year commitment.” She shook her head in amazement. “That’s not just keeping my career—that’s expanding it.”

Luke smiled. “That’s amazing,Meg. I’m so proud of you.”

“There’s more.” Meg felt giddy with possibility.

“While I was presenting, I realized how much I’ve learned about community-based marketing just from working at the Beach Shack.

All that stuff about authentic connection and local partnerships—I never would have understood that from a corporate office. ”

“And Jake connecting me with the foundation?”

“Jake Cassidy. Coastal conservation, grant money for sustainable tourism.” Luke’s eyes were bright with possibility. “Coffee next week to discuss it.”

Meg stared at him. “Luke, that’s incredible. That’s exactly the kind of work you’ve been wanting to do.”

“It’s just coffee,” he said, but she could see the excitement he was trying to contain.

“It’s an opportunity. One that wouldn’t have happened if you hadn’t come with me today.”

They sat in silence, watching surfers navigate the break below. Meg thought about the presentation, about Margaret’s immediate enthusiasm for Phase Two, about the way her work had felt more connected and meaningful when she’d drawn on her Laguna experiences.

“Can I ask you something?” she said finally.

“Always. ”

“When you said you remember everything about those summers—what did you mean?”

Luke was quiet for so long Meg wondered if he’d heard her.

Then he said, “I meant that I remember how you used to talk about changing the world. How you wanted to use business to make things better, not just profitable.” He turned to look at her.

“I think you forgot that for a while. But today, hearing you describe that presentation—talking about authentic community connections and supporting local businesses—that was the Meg I remembered.”

“You noticed all that while teaching me to surf?” Meg asked, a smile tugging at her lips.

Luke’s cheeks reddened slightly. “You talked a lot between sets,” he said, then cleared his throat. “I mean, you were always thinking out loud about stuff. Big stuff.”

Meg felt something shift in her chest, like a door opening onto a room she’d forgotten existed.

“I did forget,” she admitted. “I got so focused on climbing the ladder, I stopped thinking about why I wanted to climb it in the first place.”

“And now?”

Meg looked around—at the resort that had just committed to a long term partnership, at the ocean that had called her home, at Luke with his environmental notebooks and his gentle challenges.

“Now I think maybe the ladder was pointed in the wrong direction.”

They drove the rest of the way in silence, Meg’s contract commitment safely tucked in her bag and both of their phones buzzing with new possibilities.

“So,” Luke said as they parked outside the Beach Shack, “want to celebrate? I know a place that makes excellent grilled cheese.”

Meg laughed, the sound bright and free. “I thought you’d never ask.”

For once, she wasn’t trying to prove herself. She already had.