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.
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
Meg curled up on Tyler's porch swing with a blanket and a bowl of leftover strawberries from the art walk. Her legs were tired, her cheeks still slightly flushed from sun and laughter, and her heart... full in a way she hadn't expected.
Natalie and Paige had been hilarious. And kind. And exactly what she didn't know she needed—a glimpse of what it might feel like to have friends here again.
The San Clemente presentation had gone better than she could've imagined. The client had nodded and smiled in all the right places, asked smart questions, and seemed genuinely interested in continuing. They'd promised to get back to her in a week.
No guarantees. But still.
She tapped her phone screen and called Anna.
"You again," Anna answered playfully. "Did I win a prize?"
"You might've," Meg said, smiling into the twilight. "I just had the best day. And I needed to tell someone who'd get it."
"Tell me everything," Anna said, the background noise sounding like a café or maybe a plaza. "Wait, does this have anything to do with cute environmentalists or grilled cheese emergencies?"
"Shockingly, no. This was a work thing. My San Clemente pitch went really well. They're considering a retainer."
"Meg, that's amazing!"
"I know. I'm trying not to jinx it, but it felt... right. Like I was useful and still myself, even without the Mercer & Reid polish."
"And what about the Shack?"
Meg let out a soft laugh. "Well, the other day after surviving the morning rush without getting tomato soup on my shoes, I went to the Laguna Beach Art Walk with my old friends. You know, Natalie and Paige."
"Wait. You went out? With people?"
"Real ones," Meg said. "Women who remember me from when I had braces. Natalie even called me 'our own little power suit,' which I think was meant affectionately."
Anna laughed. "This feels huge."
"It was." Meg twirled a piece of strawberry by the stem. "I even got a charcoal portrait done. The artist said I looked 'a little wild around the eyes,' whichhonestly felt like the most accurate thing anyone's said about me in years."
"I love that."
"And Anna—" Meg's voice grew more serious. "I found out Margo used to show her paintings at those galleries. Back in the day, she was a regular on the First Thursday circuit. Even sold pieces. I had no idea."
"She never talks about her art," Anna said softly. "I always wondered."
"There was this whole life she had before... well, before everything became about the Shack." Meg picked at the strawberry leaves. "We ended up at a bonfire on the beach, and people were sharing poetry and passing around marshmallows, and I just thought—when's the last time I did something with no agenda? No outcome to optimize?"
"And?"
"And it felt like the opposite of everything my life had been in San Francisco. Just people and art and firelight." Meg paused. "I bought these earrings. Aquamarine. Natalie said they looked like me, and I didn't even know what that meant anymore, but I bought them anyway."
Anna was quiet for a second. Then: "Do you miss it? San Francisco, I mean."
Meg didn't answer right away. A breeze moved through the lemon tree in the yard, soft and citrusy.
"Yeah," she said finally. "Sometimes. I miss the energy. Walking into a room and feeling like I knewexactly who I was and what I was there to do. I miss being seen as the expert."
Anna waited.
