Page 21 of The Beach Shack Summer (Laguna Beach #2)

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

“You awake?” he whispered.

“Meg’s printer is awake, so I’m awake.” Stella appeared in her doorway, hair sticking up at creative angles. “Is it always this loud?”

“Only when she’s stress-printing.” Tyler glanced toward the kitchen, where Meg’s papers had achieved critical mass. “Get dressed. We’re going out.”

“Now? It’s basically still night.”

“Driving lesson. We promised we’d give her space today.”

Stella perked up slightly. “Can I drive to get coffee?”

“No. I’ll drive us to the parking lot, then you can practice, then we’ll get coffee. ”

“Close enough.”

Twenty minutes later, they were creeping through the kitchen like cat burglars. Tyler grabbed his keys while Stella scribbled on a sticky note.

“What are you writing?”

“Good luck note. She needs it.” Stella stuck it to the coffee maker where Meg would definitely see it. Her handwriting was a mix of neat and messy: Knock ‘em dead today! We believe in you! -S & T

“Nice touch,” Tyler said.

“I have my moments.”

They escaped to the truck, Tyler starting the engine while trying to make minimal noise.

“Same rules as before,” he said as they reached the empty college parking lot. He put the truck in park and they switched seats. “Easy does it.”

“I’ve been practicing in my head,” Stella said, adjusting the mirrors. “Visualization. Athletes do it.”

“Since when are you an athlete?”

“Since I’m athletically operating a motor vehicle.” She checked her blind spots with exaggerated care. “Clear?”

“Clear.”

The streets were empty at this hour, marine layer thick enough to muffle sound. Stella drove with increasing confidence, only death-gripping the wheel during turns.

“So,” she said as they headed for the community college lot, “Meg’s kind of losing it, huh?”

“She’s managing. ”

“She took a call from the laundry room yesterday. I heard her discussing ROI while sitting on the dryer.”

“Okay, she’s not managing.”

“We need to help her.”

Tyler glanced at his daughter, surprised by the ‘we.’ “Open to suggestions.”

“Well, she can’t keep working from bathrooms. That’s just sad.” Stella navigated a turn with only minimal terror. “Maybe we could build her a shed? Like a work shed?”

“Where?”

“I don’t know. The yard?”

“What yard? We have a patio the size of a postage stamp.”

“Good point.” Stella pulled into the empty parking lot, already more comfortable than last time. “What if we cleaned out the garage?”

“It’s full of boards and photo equipment.”

“Right.” She practiced parking between the lines, tongue poking out in concentration. “This is harder than driving.”

“You’re doing fine. Try again, use your mirrors.”

She backed out, tried again. Straighter this time. “Maybe Meg should just work from the Beach Shack?”

“Too noisy. Plus Margo would put her to work.”

“True. Napkin folding would interfere with her presentations.” Stella successfully parked, mostly straight. “Nailed it!”

“Getting better.”

They practiced for another forty minutes—three- point turns, parallel parking with imaginary cars, smooth stops. Stella’s confidence grew with each circuit of the lot.

“I’m basically a driving expert now,” she announced after successfully navigating a figure-eight pattern Tyler had made her follow.

“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves.”

“Can I drive to get coffee?”

“No.”

“Partial credit for asking?”

“No.”

“You’re no fun.”

“I’m keeping you alive. Same thing.”

They switched seats, Tyler driving them to the café. The sun was starting to burn through the marine layer, promising another perfect beach day.

“So what are we going to do about Meg?” Stella asked, securing her seatbelt.

“I don’t know. She won’t move out because she thinks we need her.”

“We do need her. You can’t cook.”

“I can cook!”

“Cereal doesn’t count. Neither does toast.” Stella stared out the window. “Maybe that’s the problem. She feels stuck because we’re useless without her.”

“We’re not useless.”

“Name one actual meal you’ve made since I got here.”

Tyler thought. “I made pasta.”

“You boiled noodles and opened a jar. ”

“That counts!”

“It really doesn’t.”

They pulled up to the café. Inside, the early morning crowd was mostly surfers and fishermen, people who understood that dawn was the best part of the day.

“Hot chocolate?” Tyler offered.

“Coffee,” Stella said firmly. “I’m sixteen. Again, not six.”

“Coffee it is.”

They found a corner booth. Stella dumped sugar into her coffee with teenage abandon while Tyler watched, amused.

“So,” she said, stirring vigorously, “think Meg’s presentation will go well?”

“She’s been preparing for weeks. She’ll nail it.”

“Yeah, but what happens after? If she gets more clients?” Stella took a sip, made a face, added more sugar. “More bathroom conferences?”

“We’ll figure something out.”

“We need to learn to cook. Like, actual food. So she doesn’t feel responsible for keeping us alive.”

Tyler considered this. “I can make eggs.”

“Barely.”

“I can learn.”

“Can you though?” She stirred her coffee thoughtfully. “Maybe we could take a class. Bonding experience. Cooking lessons.”

“At 6 AM?”

“Good point. YouTube it is. ”

They finished their coffee, the café filling up as the morning progressed. Tyler noticed Stella checking the time.

“Want to head back? See if Meg needs anything?”

“She’s probably gone already. Luke was picking her up at nine-thirty.” Stella stood, then paused. “Hey, want to do something?”

“We are doing something.”

“I mean after. Since we’re already out.” She looked unusually hesitant. “Unless you have work stuff.”

“No work stuff. What did you have in mind?”

“I don’t know. Whatever.” The studied casualness was back. “Beach maybe? You could take some pictures?”

“Sure. We could stop by Salt Creek, check the waves.”

“Cool.”

They headed back to the truck. As Tyler drove toward the beach, Stella was quiet, staring out the window.

“You okay?”

“Yeah. Just thinking.”

“About?”

“Meeting even more of these Beach Shack people who’ve known you forever.” She picked at a thread on her jeans. “They probably have opinions.”

“About what?”

“About you having a secret kid. About me showing up and disrupting everything. ”

Tyler pulled into the Salt Creek parking lot, turning to face her. “Hey. Look at me.”

She did, reluctantly.

“Nobody thinks you’re disrupting anything. You’re not a secret or a problem or whatever story you’re telling yourself. You’re my daughter. Margo’s great-granddaughter. Part of the family business. That’s it.”

“But—”

“No buts. Anyone who has a problem with you has a problem with me. And Margo. And Meg. And probably Joey, who would defend you with napkin-folding fury.”

That got a small smile. “Napkin-folding fury?”

“Very precisely angled napkin-folding fury.”

“Terrifying.”

“The most terrifying.”

They sat for a moment, watching surfers paddle out through the morning waves.

“Want to get ice cream?” Tyler asked suddenly.

Stella looked at him like he’d lost his mind. “It’s 8 AM.”

“So?”

“So ice cream for breakfast is insane.”

“I thought you were embracing the weird.”

“Weird has limits.” But she was smiling now, the tension easing. “Maybe later. After you pretend to teach me things about photography I already know.”

“Pretend?”

“Please. I’ve been watching you work for weeks. F-stop, shutter speed, ISO. I got it. ”

“Yeah? What’s the rule of thirds?”

“Divide your frame into a three-by-three grid, place subjects along the lines or intersections for dynamic composition.”

Tyler stared at her. “Have you been reading my books?”

“Maybe. Found some in the hall closet when we were looking for the Polaroid. Very educational.”

“You kept those?”

“Why wouldn’t I? They’re good books.” She shrugged. “Plus it’s the only quiet spot in the house besides the roof.”

“The roof?”

“Oh. Yeah. I found a way up through your bedroom window. Don’t worry, I’m careful.”

“STELLA.”

“What? It’s peaceful up there. Good for thinking.”

“It’s dangerous!”

“It’s a Ranch-style house. I could jump off and probably just sprain an ankle.”

“That’s not reassuring!”

“Wasn’t meant to be.” She opened the truck door. “Come on, let’s go pretend you’re teaching me about photography while you actually just take pictures and I watch.”

Tyler followed her out, grabbing his camera bag. “We’re discussing the roof situation later.”

“No we’re not.”

“Yes we are.”

“Agree to disagree. ”

“That’s not how parenting works!”

“Pretty sure it is.” She headed toward the overlook. “Oh look, dolphins!”

Tyler knew she was distracting him. It worked anyway. He pulled out his camera, tracking the pod moving south past the break. Stella stood beside him, quiet now, watching the ocean wake up.

“Thanks,” she said after a while.

“For what?”

“Getting me out this morning. The driving. Coffee.” She paused. “Telling me I’m not disrupting everything.”

“You’re not.”

“Meg’s living in a bathroom office because of me.”

“Meg’s living in a bathroom office because my house is too small for three adults running two businesses.” Tyler lowered his camera. “That’s not your fault. That’s just... life.”

“Still.”

“Still nothing. We’ll figure it out. After her presentation. One crisis at a time, right?”

“Right.” Stella pulled out her phone, checking the time. “Think she’s there yet?”

“Probably. She left a pretty detailed schedule on the fridge. Color-coded.”

“Of course it was.” She smiled. “Our note was good, right? Not too cheesy?”

“Perfect amount of cheese.”

“Like a good grilled sandwich.”

“Exactly.”

They stayed until the marine layer burned off completely, Tyler shooting while Stella asked surprisingly technical questions about lens choices and light metering. She had been reading his books.

“Ice cream now?” Tyler asked as they packed up.

“It’s 9 AM.”

“You said that already.”

“It’s still true.” She considered. “Frozen yogurt?”

“Compromise. I like it.”

“Don’t get used to it.”

But she was smiling as they walked back to the truck, and Tyler thought maybe they were figuring out this father-daughter thing.

One driving lesson, one coffee date, one reassurance at a time.