She found a shop that opened at 8 a.m. and set a reminder to call them during her lunch break to send something to Margo.
The morning proceeded with military precision. Breakfast meeting with Brad. Final adjustments to the presentation. The executive team gathering in the glass-walled conference room overlooking San Francisco Bay.
At 8:54, Meg stood in the restroom, checking her appearance one final time. She looked exactly as she should—polished, professional, confident. Yet for afraction of a second, she barely recognized the woman in the mirror. When had she last been back to Laguna? Anna’s college graduation? That was years ago now.
And Sam—wherever their mother was these days. Last they heard, Bali? Or Buenos Aires? Better not to go there.
Tyler. Her younger brother, who’d stayed while she left.
She should call him too, ask how the planning for Margo’s birthday celebration was going. Later. After the presentation.
Meg’s phone rang just as she was returning to the conference room. She glanced at the screen, ready to silence it, and froze.
Tyler Walsh.
Tyler rarely called during work hours. He texted occasionally—holiday wishes, funny memes, random surf photos—but never called, and certainly never at 9 a.m. on a weekday when he knew she’d be working.
Something cold settled in Meg’s stomach.
Brad appeared at the end of the hallway, gesturing toward the conference room. “They’re here, Meg. Ready to knock their socks off?”
The phone continued ringing in her hand. Tyler’s name flashing on the screen.
“One second,” she called to Brad, then answered the call, turning away. “Tyler? Is everything okay?”
Her brother’s voice came through, tight with stress. “Meg, I’m sorry to call like this. It’s Margo. And the Beach Shack. I need your help.”
The client meeting forgotten, Meg pressed the phone closer to her ear, that cold feeling spreading through her chest. “What’s happened? Is Margo all right?”
“She’s okay physically, but I’ve got this emergency—I have to leave town for a while. Uncle Rick won’t help, and I don’t know who else to ask.”
“What about Anna?” Meg asked, though she already knew the answer.
“She’s three weeks into that fellowship in Florence. The one she’s been trying to get for years.” Tyler sighed. “I can’t ask her to throw that away when she’s finally getting recognized.”
The familiar twinge hit. Anna and Tyler were the reliable ones.
“Margo needs someone who can organize the staffing schedule, deal with suppliers, all that stuff you’re so good at,” Tyler added. “Not Anna’s artistic touch right now. It’s just until I get back.”
Meg took a deep breath and glanced at the conference room.
“The Shack’s been… rough lately, Meg.”
Behind her, Brad called her name again. The V.P. committee was waiting. Her future was waiting.
“And Meg... Margo’s been having some episodes. Fatigue, maybe dizzy spells. A customer had to wake her up at the grill last week. She says she’s fine, but she’s not fine. She needs someone looking out for her.”
Meg’s chest tightened. Margo falling asleep at the grill? Her grandmother, who could flip twelvesandwiches simultaneously while managing three conversations, who had never missed a day of work in fifty years? The image of her slumped over the griddle, vulnerable and alone, made something twist in Meg’s stomach.
She could hear Brad’s voice growing more insistent behind her, could picture the San Clemente executives checking their watches in the conference room. Everything she’d worked for was literally waiting down the hall. But Margo—eighty years old and too proud to admit she needed help—was a three-hour drive away, running a business that was apparently falling apart.
“She says she’s fine, but she’s not fine. She needs someone looking out for her.”
“Tyler, I—” Meg started, but couldn’t finish the sentence. What could she say? That she had a presentation in ten minutes that could make her career? That she hadn’t been home in years? That she didn’t know the first thing about running a restaurant?
But Tyler’s voice cracked as he said, “I wouldn’t ask if there was anyone else, Meg. I really wouldn’t.”
Meg didn’t know what to say.
