Page 11 of Beaches, Bagels & Babes

Daisy

W orking with Candace Perry was, as it turned out, not the trainwreck Daisy predicted.

She’d been waiting when Daisy pulled her golf cart into the car lot behind Bagel Bombs!

. Her figure on the back steps was murky in the early morning haze, hunched as she hugged her sleeveless frame against the clammy chill.

The instant she saw Daisy, she snapped to her feet.

They exchanged painfully awkward greetings.

Then and there, Daisy said and internal “fuck it.”

Last night, after stress-baking a literal mountain of bagel bombs, Daisy dug out her lease with Peter Perry.

Candace had been telling the truth. Despite her lease technically spanning for another three years before she needed to renew, she was screwed.

Tucked into a clause about “tenant responsibility,” in legalese Daisy might not have understood without Candace putting it so plainly, was Peter Perry’s trump card.

If she did not meet a ridiculous gross profit backed by financial documents she was obligated to provide by an arbitrary date at the end of August, he was free to kick her out.

It sure did not seem legal. But Daisy’s signature on the document was plain as day. She did not have the time, let alone money, to fight a man like Peter Perry in court. His lawyer, Vinny Lamarka, was well-respected around town, but it was rumored that he had shady ties and even shadier tactics.

So, fuck it.

Maybe Candace was as self-serving as ever and was just looking for the first boat she could cling to. At the same time, the woman seemed to legitimately loathe her uncle. If she wanted to expend her time and effort to help Daisy stand her ground?

Fine. Done deal.

Still, determining if the woman could be trusted to run Bagel Bombs!

without burning the place down seemed important.

It was not complicated: take the order, put the bombs in the toaster oven, fill beverage, done.

There were other, more complicated things like inventory stocking and rotation, but Daisy had a special system and it was better if she handled that part.

All while Daisy showed her the ropes, Candace took notes.

“... and you’ll want to make sure to ease the button in,” Daisy told Candace as she explained the industrial toaster that was older than either of them. “Be gentle, and don’t rush her. But that’s all there is to it. This ol’ gal might not look like much, but she’s good for it.”

“Hm,” Candace mused. A wry smile curved her lips. “The oven and I have a lot in common.”

Daisy almost laughed. She managed to turn the sound into a neutral grunt, not wanting to give the woman an inch.

“So,” Daisy started. “I looked over your master plan some more. A facelift and social media blitz are easy enough to spitball, but they’re out of the question right now.

Even if I had the money to renovate, I can’t afford to close the place long enough to do it.

And I tried social media, but I only ever got traffic from trolls and lost grandmas. ”

Candace held up her pocket notebook, hiding her mouth. Her eyes, though, danced mischievously.

“Just leave all that to me.”

Daisy crossed her arms. In the background, the toaster oven ticked with their breakfast bombs.

Asiago and chive cream cheese for Daisy, and cinnamon for Candace—she liked sweet things, go figure.

A woman used to a sugar-coated world, accustomed to things simply working out for her.

Well, Daisy thought, this time it wasn't just Candace’s taste setting the tone.

“Really,” Candace assured. “I told you, I know what I’m doing.”

“Is that so? Well, why don’t you take your first customer?”

With a flick of her wrist, Daisy turned on the fluorescents and officially opened her haven for the hungry.

Dawnlight was just starting to brighten the beach and boards, bringing with it the first wave of breakfast goers.

This early, their patrons consisted mainly of runners and bikers, the athletes of Wonderwood.

These types were happy to have something mobile like bagel bombs.

Small, in sealed little baggies so they stayed warm, the bombs could be eaten on the go, or taken back to family still sleeping in vacation rentals.

They were a reliable, steady customer base.

Except today.

It was a slow morning. Minutes ticked by, and not a single passerby stopped to glance at Bagel Bombs’!

window display. In a hyper-aware sort of way, Daisy could sense Candace’s apprehension growing—her own certainly was.

Daisy could not say why, but she started to feel embarrassed.

Doubly so as Candace grew so bored that she took out her phone.

When they finally did see some life, Daisy had to nudge Candace with her flip-flop. It was not the best start. Even so, watching the woman with customers was like a switch flip .

Daisy was a good salesperson. She was informative, able to upsell, and, most importantly, knew how to make her customers happy.

Candace, though, made every person who visited Bagel Bombs! her best friend. Old or young, shoobie or local, and every personality type, no one seemed immune to the Pier Princess’ charm.

Least of all Daisy.

Stoically set like a statue before the backroom curtain, Daisy observed Candace.

Her outfit, a silk, cropped halter top in a shade of vibrant emerald that highlighted the subtle green of her eyes, was a poor choice.

Sleeveless, the top was cinched in a cute (but impractical) collar that looped behind her long neck.

The undershirt she wore beneath it was creamy white, like her jeans and stylish pumps.

It was an outfit better suited to an office or, more likely, schmoozing at a fancy event with clients.

Slinging hot dough and coffee in a sweltering box?

Not so much.

Her hair was tied up into a long ponytail, which was also not the most practical style, with its ribboning tresses left free to fly.

The locks that framed her face were constantly getting in the way.

Pretty, though. Like liquid gold, it bounced and curled artfully.

All of her, every detail, was pure poised perfection.

Daisy was staring. She told herself it was to catch any slip ups… that she was an owner watching a potential hire. It was a lie, and she knew it. But that was better than admitting the truth.

In a frustratingly astute read, Candace turned to Daisy between customers. She winked, saying, “Pretty incredible, I know. I worked at the campus cafe all through undergrad.”

Daisy did not bother to hide her disbelief. “Yeah, right. Why would you need to work?”

A flash of hurt, a downward tug of her lips, showed the comment stung Candace. Yet, her rebuttal was light and haughty.

“You don’t know me as well as you think, Daisy DeMarco. My regulars cried when I left.”

“Yeah, yeah. You’re the hero of the morning rush. Also, you’ve got cream cheese on your tit.”

Candace let loose a pomeranian-sized yip that might have been the most adorable sound Daisy ever heard. Without even realizing it, she laughed louder and more honestly than she had laughed in a long time.

“I’m glad you find my ruined blouse so amusing!”

Daisy snapped her mouth shut. What was wrong with her? She handed the flustered woman a damp towel, just as flustered herself.

When another round of customers arrived, Daisy turned away from the one-woman bagel ballet before her. She busied herself sorting items that were already where they were meant to be.

After a time, the morning pop settled down, and they were left with scattered sustenance-seekers. Candace played on her phone between customers, which was only slightly annoying. Daisy was glad that it kept them from having to make small talk.

Anything but that.

Candace said Daisy did not know her, and that was fine. Past this grand scheme to save Bagel Bombs!, she did not want to know her.

Not her past as a rich girl working at a campus cafe, regardless of the questions it raised. Or why she was so ready to turn on her uncle for a stranger. Or even her favorite color (although, definitely, it was something bright like a warm, sunflower yellow).

The rest of the shift was a strange combination of dull and the most anxious four hours Daisy ever spent working. She was thrilled when Rio arrived to take over for the evening. Immediately, she set to packing her things.

It was stifling inside the bagel stand. No matter where Daisy went, Candace was within arm’s reach.

Too close .

Had the place always been this small? Before she could make a clean escape, Candace stopped her.

“Wait!” Candace looked confused. She had difficulty getting her words out. “You… Um, you’ve decided, then?”

Had she?

Daisy spent the whole morning on edge. Not even a mid-shift stop from Norman had helped since he was thrilled to have Candace on the other side of the counter. He adored her, like everyone else. Just like deep down, Daisy was afraid she would if she let Candace stay.

Daisy glowered. She could not wait to get home, smoke a blunt, and bake the inventory she needed to replenish her depleted supplies.

Very depleted , she noted. Even after the slow start, this was one of the best days they’d had in a long while. Maybe Rio was right. Bagel Bombs! needed new blood. A talkative, attention-grabbing presence like Candace could be just what the doctor ordered.

Daisy scanned Candace, not bothering to hide her measure. Once, years ago, she let Daisy down. Would she do it again? And, more importantly, would Daisy let her?

“You know what time we open.”