They stood in silence for a moment, the sounds of the kitchen quiet but steady—water boiling, the scrape of metal on ceramic, the soft pat of dough under Margo’s hands.
“I need time to process this,” Meg said quietly.
Margo nodded. “Of course, dear. Some things are too big to absorb all at once.”
The morning rushpassed in a blur. Meg moved through the familiar motions—taking orders, flipping sandwiches, clearing tables—but her mind was elsewhere, turning over Margo’s revelation like a shell in her pocket.
Joey arrived for his shift with his usual cheerful energy. “Hello?”
Margo called out, “In the kitchen!” and gave Meg a knowing look.
As Joey tied on his apron, Meg watched him with new eyes. This young man with his dreams of marine systems training, his careful savings, his quiet dedication—he was exactly who the Laguna Promise Foundation was meant to help. Soon he'd know about the scholarship. He'd earned it.
The lunch crowd was lighter than usual, giving Meg space to think. Every time she looked at the shell ceiling, she saw it differently now.
By afternoon, Meg had made her decision.
She found Margo restocking napkin dispensers, moving with the deliberate care that had become more noticeable lately.
“What happens next?” Meg asked. “With the payments. With the Shack?”
Margo looked up from the dispenser. “That’s not just my decision anymore.”
Meg took a breath. “I think I want to help. Not just with spreadsheets and staffing charts. But—with whatever this place really is.”
Margo’s face softened. “Then we’ll talk. You, me, Tyler—when he’s back. There’s room here for new chapters.”
“There’s something else,” Meg said. “About Uncle Rick.”
Margo’s expression grew wary. “Rick’s made his feelings clear about how I’ve been managing things.”
“Because he doesn’t know the truth.” Meg leanedagainst the counter. “What if we told him? About the scholarship fund. About what you’ve really been doing all these years.”
“Rick won’t want to hear it. He’ll say I should have told him decades ago.”
“Maybe,” Meg said gently. “But maybe he’ll also realize he was wrong about you throwing money away. Maybe it’s time to heal that wound.”
Margo was quiet for a long moment, her hands stilling on the napkins. “You really think he’d want to help?”
“I think he’d be honored to help. Once he understands what this really is.”
Just then, Meg’s phone buzzed.
A message from Tyler:
Be there soon. And I’m not coming alone.
Meg stared at the message, her breath catching just slightly.
She slipped the phone into her pocket and turned back to Margo. Everything was about to change again.
But for the first time in weeks, she felt ready.
CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT
Meg 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.
