Page 40 of The Beach Shack (Laguna Beach #1)
CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT
M eg sat at the Shack’s front table, laptop open, her legal pad covered in notes. The Laguna Promise Foundation had taken over her thoughts—and finally, her skills felt useful in a way that mattered.
The Beach Shack was quiet—the lull between lunch and dinner—and Margo was in the kitchen prepping for the evening shift. Meg had volunteered to handle some administrative tasks, but really, she’d been thinking about the Laguna Promise Foundation nonstop.
“You know,” she said, looking up from her laptop, “what you’ve built is incredible, but it could be so much more sustainable with proper structure.”
Margo looked up from the cheese she was shredding. “Meaning?”
“Meaning transparency. Tax benefits. Maybe even fundraising from other community members who’d want to contribute.” Meg closed her laptop and moved closer to the prep counter. “We could formalize it properly. Make it bigger.”
“Bigger isn’t always better,” Margo said carefully.
“I know. But more stable is.” Meg leaned against the counter. “What happens when you can’t manage it anymore? Or if something happens to you? Right now, everything depends on you personally.”
Margo’s hands stilled on the counter. It was clearly something she hadn’t wanted to think about. But maybe the recent health events had changed her mind.
“I’ve been doing some research,” Meg continued gently. “With the right legal structure, we could ensure the fund continues indefinitely. And honestly? I think Uncle Rick could help us set it up properly.”
“Rick?” Margo’s voice was sharp. “He thinks I’ve been throwing money away for decades.”
“Like I said, he doesn’t know what you’ve really been doing.” Meg took a breath. “I think we should tell him.”
The silence stretched between them, broken only by the sizzle of something on the grill.
“He’ll say I should have told him years ago,” Margo said finally.
“He’ll probably be right,” Meg said softly. “But he’ll also realize he was wrong about you wasting money. Maybe it’s time to heal that wound.”
Margo set down her knife and wiped her hands on her apron. “You really think he’d help? ”
“I think he’d be honored to help. Once he understands what this really is.”
Twenty minutes later, Meg found herself dialing Rick’s number, her heart pounding slightly. Margo sat across from her at one of the dining room tables, hands folded but fidgeting with her wedding ring.
“Meg?” Rick’s voice was surprised. “Is everything okay?”
“Everything’s fine. But Margo and I wanted to talk to you about something. About the Beach Shack finances.”
A pause. “The Standing Obligation?”
“Yes. But not what you think.” Meg looked at Margo, who nodded encouragingly. “Could you come by this afternoon? There’s something you need to know.”
Another pause, longer this time. “I can be there in an hour.”
After Meg hung up, she and Margo sat in the quiet dining room, the weight of what they were about to do settling between them.
“Are you ready for this?” Meg asked gently.
Margo’s fingers stilled on her wedding ring. “I’ve been carrying this secret for twenty years. I think it’s time to share the weight of it.”
Meg nodded, understanding that this wasn’t just about Rick learning the truth—it was about Margo finally trusting someone else with the thing she’d guarded most carefully .
“He’s going to be amazed,” Meg said softly. “What you’ve built. What you’ve done.”
“Or he’s going to think I should have told him decades ago,” Margo replied, but there was hope in her voice now, mixed with the fear.
They had an hour to prepare. An hour before everything changed between the family members who’d been separated by misunderstanding for far too long.
Meg reached across the table and squeezed her grandmother’s hand. “Whatever happens, you won’t be carrying this alone anymore.”
Margo squeezed back, and for the first time in years, that felt like enough.