Page 4 of Beach Vibes

She pulled hers from her back pocket. “It’s not, and if you don’t have my number, it’s going to make coordinating things really complicated.”

2

As Beth loaded canned beans on the shelf of the foodbank, she saw an older woman hovering by the rice and pasta. Tentatively she reached for a box of spaghetti, only to pull her hand back as if she were afraid of doing something wrong.

A newbie, Beth thought, her chest tightening with sympathy. No doubt she was confused by the rules and a little ashamed to be needing the help. Beth quickly finished with the beans and walked over to greet the woman.

“Hi,” she said cheerfully. “Can I help you?”

The other woman ducked her head. “Um, thank you. I don’t know what I’m allowed to buy.” She flushed. “I shouldn’t even be here. It’s just with my limited income and—”

Beth lightly touched her shoulder. “Hey, it’s okay. You’re welcomehere. Let me explain how this works.” She pointed to the red tag hanging from the woman’s cart. There was a big 1 on it.

“That’s your group number. Ones are generally a single person or a couple. Throughout the store, you’ll see signage telling you the quantity you’re allowed to take.” She pointed to the sign on the shelf in front of them.

“Group one is limited to one large bag of rice and two boxes of pasta.” Beth smiled at her. “We just got a huge shipment from our distributor. Take the pasta, please.”

The other woman managed a faint smile in return. “It’s just me at home. And my cat. I don’t need very much.”

“Still, we’re a good resource. Stock up. I saw some lovely blackberries in the produce section. Oh, and we have cat food and litter in the pet aisle. Meat and dairy are in the back. We’re low on cheese this week, but there’s lots of chicken.”

She looked at the woman. “It’s okay to be here. No one’s judging you. Honestly, I’m grateful every time I see a full cart of food. This is Malibu. No one should go hungry. We have a reputation.”

“Yes, people assume we’re all rich and famous.”

Beth chuckled. “I don’t need to be famous.”

The other woman laughed. “Me, either, but I wouldn’t say no to rich.” She nodded. “Thank you, dear. You’ve made me feel better.”

“Anytime. If this is going to be your regular shopping day, then you’ll see me next week. I’m here from two until six.”

The woman moved on, and Beth wheeled the empty boxes into the back of the store, where she quickly broke them down and put them in recycling.

She’d started volunteering at the food bank about three months ago, when her business had been closed for the remodel. She’d applied online, passed her background check and been assigned a “training buddy.” She remembered how nervous she’d been during her first session. Jana had immediatelyput her at ease, showing her what was expected and explaining how to deal with their clients.

The work itself was fairly basic. Beth stocked shelves, swept floors and helped out customers. She worked four hours a week and always left feeling better than when she’d arrived. Something she needed today, she thought grimly. In the past twenty-four hours, her emotions had been on a roller coaster. The shock of seeing the billboard and realizing she hadn’t done anything to have a personal life had quickly morphed to disbelief, then unexpected heartache, followed by an evening of binge-watching episodes ofFriendsand eating way more ice cream than was healthy. It seemed telling herself she didn’t care that Ian was getting married was a whole lot easier than actually not caring. A frustrating admission because she knew her disquiet had little to do with the man himself and everything to do with what she was and wasn’t doing for herself.

Her third hour into her shift, she spotted Jana loading butter into the cold case and headed over.

“Hi,” she said. “Are we still on for a quick dinner?”

Jana smiled at her. “Yes, please. If you have time.”

“Absolutely. See you at six.”

She returned to her job, happy their plans had worked out. In the past couple of months, she and Jana had started to become friends. At first they’d chatted on their way to their cars. Then they’d started going across the street to grab a quick coffee. A couple of weeks ago, Beth had offered to bring sandwiches so they could eat on the patio in back of the food bank.

She liked Jana and, given her recent revelation about her friendless state, was hoping they could start hanging out more.

Exactly at six, she walked to her car and took out the small picnic basket she’d brought with her. She met Jana on the back patio, where they settled at a table in the shade. Spring in Los Angeles was unpredictable. It could be foggy and sixty for daysat a time or unseasonably warm, as it was now. When it was eighty this close to the ocean, it would be over a hundred inland.

But here on a hill, with an in-the-distance view of the ocean, a light breeze and seagulls strutting around, hoping to get a crumb or fallen chip, it was pleasant.

“Next time I need to bring dinner,” Jana told her. “It’s my turn.” She pressed a hand to her belly. “I missed lunch, and I’m starving.”

Beth waved away her comment. “Don’t be silly. I own a sandwich shop. This was easy. I pulled together a bunch of leftovers. It was nothing.”

Jana watched her unload the cooler. “Your ‘it was nothing’ is my gourmet feast.”

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