The words woke up a part of her she mostly ignored. She tried to put it to sleep again, reminding herself that there was more than one reason to do a job and they were all valid. Some people went after the money, and there was nothing wrong with that. Some people wanted to do something worthwhile that would give them a sense of purpose. Mel had followed tradition and joined the family business. The Surf Café overlooked the beach and had been established by her grandparents as somewhere the local community could gather to eat and drink. These days there were twice as many tourists as locals at any given time, but it was still a popular haunt for the inhabitants of Silver Point, almost all of who Mel knew well. At least once a week when she was growing up her parents had said, This place will be yours and Nate’s one day. Mel had occasionally thought, But what if I don’t want it?

She pushed that thought aside. The café was part of her life. She’d been helping out there since she could walk. In her time she’d done all of it, but now she handled the administrative side, which, if she was honest, wasn’t particularly exciting, but the business was her family’s pride and joy and she and her twin brother, Nate, had a duty to keep the place going.

Occasionally, when they were exceptionally busy, she helped out with the customers but only when they were desperate. She didn’t have Nate’s charm and easygoing manner. She was too impatient. If she was left in charge they probably would have gone out of business. She preferred managing the books. At least numbers didn’t complain and tell you that you’d brought the wrong food, or that the hamburger wasn’t quite cooked as they liked it even though you’d delivered exactly what they’d ordered.

The job gave her flexibility, which she was grateful for as a working parent, and she enjoyed working with her brother, although she wouldn’t in a million years admit that to him. And the job came with other advantages. Mel couldn’t make it through the week without indulging in at least one of Nate’s pecan chocolate brownies. Eden was addicted to his white chocolate and macadamia cookies, and even Greg, who tried to avoid sugar, had been known to lose all willpower when confronted by a slice of apple and cinnamon tart. If you were feeling virtuous there was always the Bay Shrimp salad, and if you had time to sit and savor the moment, then you could settle at one of the tables in the outdoor seating area, sheltered by cypress trees, and watch the Pacific crash onto a sweep of soft white sand.

Eden was frowning at her. “Mom?”