“Hard to miss. It’s lovely.” She looked around the Shack—the shells on the ceiling, the menu board, the ocean through the windows. “This is beautiful. I can’t believe I’ve never stopped in before.”
She looked at the ocean. Tyler looked at Lindsey looking at the ocean. Stella looked at Tyler looking at Lindsey. The whole thing was ridiculous and lovely.
Stella stepped forward.
“The last time we talked, you were behind a desk and I was pretending to care about transfer credits.”
“I remember. You did care. You were pretending not to.” Lindsey’s face opened up, warm and focused. “Your portfolio prints were extraordinary, by the way. Mr. Reeves showed me.”
“He wasn’t supposed to do that.”
“He was proud of you. Probably couldn’t help himself.”
Anna came over, wiping her hands on a rag.
“You must be Lindsey. Tyler has told us —”
“Nothing,” Tyler said. “I’ve told you nothing.”
“He turns pink when we mention you,” Stella said. “We’ve been filling in the gaps.”
Tyler looked at the ceiling. Lindsey laughed—real, warm.
Margo was at the counter with a cup of tea. She’d arrived twenty minutes ago — no reason given, no brush to find. She’d been watching the lunch service wind down the way she always watched things now. From a distance. Taking it in.
Stella decided that Tyler must be frozen in time and pulled Lindsey over toward Margo.
“Lindsey, this is my great-grandmother, Margo Turner.”
Lindsey smiled, the broad smile she gave everyone that Stella realized was just part of her personality.
“Nice to meet you, Mrs. Turner,” she said.
Margo set her cup down and looked at Lindsey. A long look. The kind she gave tomatoes and paintings and the ocean at certain hours.
Lindsey held still under it. Didn’t try to fill the silence. Didn’t smile too hard. She just stood there with her faded lanyard and let Margo look.
Margo turned to Tyler.
“She didn’t flinch.”
“No.”
“Good.” She turned to Lindsey, smiling. “It’s very nice to meet you too, Lindsey.”
Margo picked up her tea and took a sip and didn’t say anything else, which was Margo for a standing ovation.
Joey came out of the kitchen carrying a bus tub.
“New person,” he said, looking at Lindsey. “Are you eating? Because we have a system and I need to know your preferences in advance.”
“Joey,” Anna said.
“It’s a legitimate question. The system depends on information.” He looked at Lindsey.
“I’ll eat anything,” Lindsey said. “And I have no opinions about condiments.”
Joey stared at her like she’d said something incomprehensible.
