Chapter 23
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
Tyler’s house smelled faintly like surf wax and frozen pizza—a unique combo that somehow suited him. He glanced out the window where Anna had asked to set up her easel earlier that morning to catch the perfect light and smiled as she shook her head and stood.
Seconds later, Anna burst through the door with cerulean blue streaked across her cheek and what appeared to be half a palette stuck to her elbow.
“I need your shower,” she announced. “And possibly a paint scraper.”
Tyler looked up from his laptop where he’d been editing photos. “Let me guess. Festival piece got aggressive?”
“Festival piece won. I look like I lost a fight with a Monet.” Anna held up her hands, which were more paint than skin. “Also, I may have accidentally painted your doorknob.”
“Naturally.” Tyler grabbed a beer from the fridge and tossed her one. “You know where the bathroom is. Try not to redecorate it.”
Twenty minutes later, Anna emerged paint-free and significantly more human-looking, wearing one of Tyler’s old surf t-shirts that hung to her knees.
“Better?” she asked, flopping onto his battered couch.
“Much. Though I kind of liked the abstract expressionist look you had going.”
Anna grinned and drank the last of her beer. “I was channeling my inner Jackson Pollock. Very method.”
Tyler glanced up from his laptop. “You talked to Meg yet?”
“Not yet,” Anna said quickly. “I’m… giving her space.”
Tyler laughed. “Or avoiding her.”
“Mutual avoidance,” Anna said. “It’s an art form.”
Anna picked at her beer label. “You know, Bea actually called me out on something yesterday. Said I don’t realize how exhausting my ‘improvements’ can be for people.” She looked up at Tyler. “Do you think that’s true? Am I really that... overwhelming?”
Tyler shifted uncomfortably, fighting the urge to go—somewhere else. “I mean... you did re-arrange the entire Beach Shack. And scare the customers.”
“That’s not an answer.”
“Okay, yes. Sometimes you get so focused on making things better that you don’t notice when people are struggling to keep up.”
Anna was quiet for a moment. “Why didn’t you ever tell me that? My whole life, you’ve watched me steamroll people and never said anything?”
Tyler felt his face flush. “I figured that was Meg’s department. I handle the disappearing act, she handles the cleanup crew.”
“That’s not fair to either of us.”
“No, it’s not.” Tyler took a sip of beer. “You’re right. I’m sorry.”
Anna nodded, processing this. “I should probably apologize to Joey. Apparently I completely destroyed his napkin organization system. Who knew napkins had feelings?”
“Joey’s napkins definitely have feelings. Very delicate feelings.”
“And I should probably avoid Meg for a few more days. Let the Florence Method thing cool down.”
Tyler grinned. “That’ll be interesting considering you live in her house.”
“And work at the same restaurant,” Anna added with a grimace. “This avoidance strategy has some logistical flaws.”
“How’s the Festival piece coming along anyway?”
“Good, actually. Really good. I think Florence taught me some things about light that I’m finally applying properly.” She paused. “I’m excited to show everyone. Which is weird, because usually I’m terrified to show anyone anything.”
Tyler raised an eyebrow. “Since when are you terrified to show your work? You’ve been inflicting your artistic vision on us since we were kids.”
“That’s different. That was just... existing. This feels more like... declaring myself an artist. Officially.”
“You’ve been an artist your whole life, Anna. I guess some of us are just slow learners.”
“Speaking of slow learners, remember when we were sixteen? What were we like?”
Anna laughed and nodded. “I was painting murals on my bedroom wall without permission. On the house, even. You were hiding in the darkroom to avoid family dinners.”
“And Meg was already running the household because Mom was...” Tyler gestured vaguely.
“Distracted by her latest spiritual awakening,” Anna finished. “God, we were disasters.”
“We’re still disasters. We’ve just gotten more sophisticated about it.”
Anna laughed so hard she nearly spilled her beer. “Sophisticated disasters. I like that. Very adult.”
“I mean, think about it,” Tyler said. “I still disappear every time there’s conflict. I just call it ‘work commitments’ now.”
“And I still take over spaces without asking. I just call it ‘creating an inspiring environment.’”
“And Meg still tries to manage everyone’s emotions, but now she has spreadsheets.”
They both laughed.
“We’re basically the same people we were at fifteen,” Anna said. “Just with better vocabulary and more student debt.”
“You know what’s funny?” Anna said. “Stella’s been here two months and she’s already more responsible than either of us.”
“She organized my entire photo archive by date and subject. Without being asked. Who does that?”
“Someone who wasn’t raised by our family,” Anna said. “She probably thinks normal families have systems.”
“Systems,” Tyler repeated. “What a concept.”
“Maybe we should try it. You know, actually being helpful instead of just... enthusiastically chaotic.”
“I want to help at the Shack. Really help. Not just show up and rearrange things until they make artistic sense to me.”
“Revolutionary concept.”
“And you could actually be there during busy times instead of finding urgent photography emergencies whenever things get stressful.”
Tyler winced. “Okay, fair. Maybe I’ve been strategically unavailable.”
“Maybe we both need to stop making Meg responsible for fixing us,” Anna said. “Ask what she needs instead of waiting for her to tell us what went wrong.”
Tyler leaned back against the couch. “Look at us, being all mature and self-aware.”
“Terrifying, really.”
Tyler raised his beer. “To sophisticated disasters learning to be useful?”
Anna clinked hers against his. “To showing up instead of just showing off.”
“Think we can actually pull it off?”
Anna grinned. “I guess we’ll find out. Though maybe I should start with that apology to Joey tomorrow. Baby steps.”
“Revolutionary.”
“I know. Bea will be so proud.”