“I’m not trying to help. I’m enjoying the show.”
Margo moved behind the counter, automatically starting Tyler’s familiar routine. “Tyler, sweetheart, you knew this day would come.”
“I thought I had more time!”
“I’m sixteen,” Stella pointed out. “Not six.”
“Sometimes I can’t tell the difference,” Tyler muttered.
“I heard that.”
“Good.”
They glared at each other across the counter, and Stella felt a weird jolt of recognition. The stubborn set of his jaw, the way his eyebrows pulled together—it was like looking in a mirror.
“You two have the exact same stubborn face,” Meg observed.
“We do not,” they said in unison, then looked annoyed at their synchronization.
“So,” Stella said after a moment, “can we go get that handbook thing today? I want to start studying.”
“Studying,” Tyler repeated faintly. “She wants to study. To drive. My daughter wants to?—”
“Okay,” Meg intervened. “How about we all take a breath. Stella, that’s great that you want to learn. Tyler, you taught Anna to drive, remember? You were actually pretty good at it.”
“She was eighteen!”
“She was seventeen.”
“That’s completely different!”
“How?”
“It just is!”
The afternoon continued with Tyler alternating between manic grilled cheese preparation and muttered concerns about insurance rates. Stella went back to her napkin practice, but her mind was already on the freedom that came with a license. The places she could go. The independence.
“Six weeks,” Tyler said suddenly.
“What?”
“That’s how long the learner’s permit is valid before you can take the driving test. Six weeks minimum.”
“Okay?”
“Six weeks of practice. With me. In a car.”
“That’s generally how it works, yeah.”
Tyler gripped the spatula tighter. “I need to call my insurance agent.”
“NOW you’re being dramatic,” Meg called from her booth.
“Am I? Am I really?”
And in the organized chaos of the Beach Shack, with Tyler spiraling about driving lessons and Stella pretending she wasn’t excited about learning, something shifted. Not everything—Stella still wouldn’t touch the grill, still kept that careful distance from fully belonging. But she’d asked for something. Something that required trust. Something that meant staying.
At least for six weeks.
