Page 8 of The Beach Shack Summer (Laguna Beach #2)

CHAPTER SEVEN

M argo had been at the Beach Shack since six-thirty, earlier than usual. Sleep had been elusive after the Circle meeting, her mind churning with questions that had no answers. She’d given up at five, dressed in the dark, and driven to the one place that always made sense.

The rhythm of prep work usually soothed her—slicing tomatoes, layering cheese, arranging the day’s supplies.

This morning, even that familiar dance felt hollow.

Her great-granddaughter was sleeping somewhere in Laguna Beach, and Margo didn’t even know if she took after Tyler’s hatred of tomatoes or Meg’s love of extra pickles.

The back door opened at seven-ten. She knew it was Tyler before she turned around. Recognized his footsteps, the particular way he paused in the doorway like he was gathering courage.

“Margo. ”

She kept slicing, the knife steady against the cutting board. “Tyler.”

“Can we talk?”

Now she looked up. He stood in the doorway looking freshly showered but somehow worse than yesterday. Dark circles under his eyes. Hands shoved deep in his pockets. The expression of a man preparing for judgment.

“Come in,” she said simply. “Close the door.”

He did, moving into the kitchen with careful steps. For a moment, they just looked at each other across the prep counter. Her grandson—the boy who’d helped her every summer, who’d learned to make perfect grilled cheese at age eight, who’d become her rock after Sam left.

A man who’d hidden a daughter for years.

“Meg and Anna cornered me this morning,” he said finally. “Made me tell them everything.” His voice caught slightly. “I hope you’re not angry like they were. I hope you’ll understand.”

“Sit,” Margo said, gesturing to the stool at the end of the counter.

“I can stand?—”

“Tyler. Sit.”

He sat, folding his too-long frame onto the stool like a child in the principal’s office. Margo resumed her slicing, needing something to do with her hands.

“Tell me,” she said quietly.

Tyler took a breath, then another. “Everything?”

“The parts that matter. ”

He told her everything he’d shared with Meg and Anna, his voice growing steadier as he went. Fiona’s ultimatum. The twice-yearly visits. The constant fear of losing Stella entirely. When he finished, Margo set down her knife.

“Fourteen years of secrets,” she said carefully.

“I wanted to tell you every day.” The words rushed out. “You have to know that. Every time I came back, every photo I couldn’t show you, every story I couldn’t share?—”

“Tyler.” She moved around the counter, surprising them both. “Come here.”

He stood uncertainly. She pulled him into a hug, feeling him stiffen in surprise before crumbling against her, not sobbing but shaking slightly.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I’m so sorry. I was so scared of losing her, and then I was scared of disappointing you, and then it had been so long I didn’t know how to?—”

“Shh.” She held him tighter. “I know.”

“She’s amazing, Margo. You’ll love her. She’s smart and funny when she forgets to be angry. Has this dry sense of humor that catches you off guard.” His voice warmed despite the tears she could hear. “She’s stubborn like you. Sees everything like you do, notices things others miss.”

“Tell me more.” She kept her arms around him, feeling him relax incrementally.

“She pretends not to care but she does. The way she looked at the shells yesterday—like she was trying to memorize them. And Bernie made her smile, actually smile, when he started his knee story.” Tyler pulled back slightly, wiping his eyes.

“When she thinks no one’s watching, she’s gentle.

I saw her help this little kid at the airport who’d dropped his toy. ”

“She sounds wonderful.”

“She is. When she’s not terrified and defensive.” Tyler’s face crumpled again. “What if she never forgives me? What if she goes back to Sydney and?—”

“Then we love her for the summer we have,” Margo said firmly. “We show her what she’s been missing. Not by pushing, but by being who we are.”

“The Circle women will probably want to adopt her.”

“Of course they will.” Margo’s mouth quirked. “Eleanor will probably try to teach her to paint.”

“God help us.” But Tyler was almost smiling. “Can I help? With prep? Like?—”

“Apron’s where it always is.”

He fetched it, tying the familiar strings with hands that still shook slightly. They fell into their old rhythm without words—Tyler handling the bread, Margo working on fillings.

“I keep thinking about Sam,” Tyler said after a while.

“What about her?”

“A grandmother who doesn’t know she has a granddaughter. A granddaughter who doesn’t know she has a grandmother who’s...” He shrugged. “Whatever Sam is. ”

“Your mother makes her own choices,” Margo said carefully. “Always has.”

“Will she come? When she finds out?”

“I don’t know.” It was honest, at least. “But that’s not your burden to carry.”

They worked in silence, the hurt healing slowly in the familiar motions.

“Thank you,” Tyler said quietly. “For not hating me.”

“I could never hate you.” She hip-checked him gently, the way she had when he was sixteen and underfoot. “Disappointed? Yes. Hurt? Absolutely. But hate? Never.”

The back door burst open. “Morning!” Joey bounced in, then stopped short. “Oh! Tyler! You’re here early. Everything okay?”

Tyler and Margo exchanged a look.

“Everything’s fine, Joey,” Margo said. “Tyler’s helping with prep.”

“Cool! Like old times. The band is back together.” Joey grabbed his apron. “Hey, is Stella coming by today? Because I was thinking maybe she’d want to see how we do the morning setup, you know, in case she ever wants to work here, which would be awesome because?—”

“Joey,” Tyler said gently. “Breathe.”

“Right. Breathing.” Joey grinned. “It’s just cool having your daughter around. Makes the family bigger, you know?”

Tyler made a sound that might have been a laugh or something else. Margo reached over and squeezed his hand.

“Yes,” she said simply. “Family’s definitely bigger.”

“And hey, Margo, now you have two great-granddaughters! Bea’s going to flip when she meets her cousin. Anna must be excited!”

“Everyone’s... processing,” Tyler said carefully.

“Oh. Right. The secret thing.” Joey nodded sagely. “Bernie says all families have secrets. His brother didn’t tell anyone about his third wife for two years.”

Despite everything, Tyler laughed. “Not quite the same, Joey.”

“No, but you know what I mean.” Joey started pulling ingredients from the cooler. “The important thing is she’s here now, right? And she already loves the grilled cheese, so she’s definitely a Walsh.”

“She does have good taste,” Margo agreed.

“The best!” Joey’s enthusiasm was infectious. “Did you see her face when she took that first bite? Same expression Tyler gets when he tries a new coffee blend.”

“I didn’t notice,” Tyler said softly.

“Oh man, it was exactly the same. That little pause, then the eyes widening, then trying to play it cool.” Joey demonstrated each stage. “Genetic, probably.”

Tyler turned away, ostensibly to check the bread inventory, but Margo saw him wipe his eyes.

“Joey,” she said, “why don’t you start the coffee? The morning rush will begin soon. ”

“On it!” He bounced away, humming something that sounded suspiciously like a Disney song.

“You okay?” Margo asked quietly.

“She has my expressions,” Tyler said, wonder in his voice. “I never... I didn’t know that. All these years of visits and I never noticed she makes the same face I do.”

“You’ll notice more things. Small things. Important things.” Margo resumed her prep. “That’s what family does. We see ourselves in each other.”

“What if three months isn’t enough time?”

“Then we make the most of what we have.” She handed him the tomatoes to slice. “Starting with teaching her proper knife technique. Her mother clearly hasn’t.”

“How do you know that?”

“The way she held her sandwich yesterday. Grabbed it like she was afraid it would escape. No confidence in her grip.” Margo’s eyes twinkled slightly. “We’ll fix that.”

For the first time since walking in, Tyler’s smile was real. “You’re already planning to grandmother her.”

“Great-grandmother,” Margo said. “And yes. Thoroughly.”

They continued their prep, falling back into the rhythm they’d shared for years.

The hurt was still there, might always be there, but it was softened now by possibility.

By the chance to know this girl who carried their eyes and their stubbornness and their way of pausing before that first perfect bite .

“Margo?” Tyler said as they heard the first customers arriving.

“Mm?”

“I love you. You know that, right?”

She looked at her grandson—this man who’d carried secrets and fears for so long, who was trying so hard to do right by everyone.

“I know,” she said simply. “I love you too. Now wash those tomatoes properly. We have people to feed.”

It wasn’t complete forgiveness, not yet. But it was a beginning. And in the morning light of the Beach Shack, with Joey’s humming and the coffee brewing and the promise of a new day ahead, a beginning was enough.