Page 28 of Beaches, Bagels & Babes

Daisy

C andace called out sick the next day.

Talking to her on the phone, Daisy thought she sounded convincing. The woman was good at playing a part, after all.

It was for the best. Whatever the truth was, today called for some space.

If Daisy could stop hating Candace, it would be so much easier. Then, though, she would hate herself for giving in. Maybe if she pushed Candace enough, the problem would solve itself.

Eventually, Candace would leave like everyone else. Why not speed up the process? Because Daisy knew, deep down, she needed her

—and not just as a business partner.

The shift dragged on as usual. Customers came and went, buying the bombs Daisy had made just the day before with Candace.

She had to force herself not to grimace as she handed off a baggie of peanut butter bombs to a boy and his mom.

Norman showing up towards the end of her shift was her one bright spot, and, even then, he pouted that Candace was not working.

“You’re stuck with me, old man. Don’t look so disappointed.”

He told her in a prodding tone, “Things have been a lot more lively around here since she started coming around. You seem a lot more lively. She’s a gem, that one.”

Daisy snorted. “More like glass. She’s got her uses, but I’m trying not to get cut again.”

Norman did not reply. He watched Daisy with a thoughtful expression until he moved on with his day.

By the time Daisy left Bagel Bombs! in Rio’s care, she was in the worst mood imaginable.

She did not go home. When she was so distracted, inventory prep and baking with precision measurements was a recipe for failure.

One of the few things that could mellow her when her thoughts turned so dour was going to her favorite place, Higbee Point.

It was an old speakeasy spot on the far point of the island, covered in wooded marshland.

Although there was a small beach, tourists tended to avoid it since the cove was only accessible by way of a trail that cut through a quaint copse.

This time of year, the area was bursting with colorful blossoms, from elegant swamp mallow rose bushes to silk trees with their fanning, fragrant pink petals.

By the time Daisy reached the beach, it was nearly sunset.

She walked along the sandy strip, lost in a mess of thoughts, soaking in the shimmering glow.

Occasionally, her path was blocked by beached horseshoe crabs left behind from their egg-laying as the tide pulled back.

One by one, she flipped the helpless creatures and placed them carapace-up in the reaching wave runoff that rushed the shore.

It was a small mercy, but it saved them from being seagull food.

Daisy continued her habit of picking up junk treasures.

Opaque sea glass that somehow still glimmered, shells, funky pieces of driftwood, and even a barnacle-covered, tarnished silver spoon.

She ended up sitting near the remnants of a moldering dock, where her hands moved of their own accord to arrange her finds.

She used to do this often, making a sculpture for the next person who came walking along, or, more likely, to be reclaimed by the sea.

Watching dusky darkness descend on the bay beyond her, Daisy felt herself relax. Her thoughts and feelings were still a confusing swirl. Yet, as her phone chimed with a message from Candace, she did not feel her usual pang of annoyance.

Candace : Demi said we can meet tomorrow morning after her beach yoga class to go over the designs. Can Dotty cover BB?

Daisy: Shouldn’t be a problem

Candace: Great

The conversation could have stopped there. Before she could talk herself out of it, Daisy sent another text.

Daisy: Feeling any better?

The text indicator disappeared and reappeared half a dozen times before Candace’s response came through in a barrage of staggered parts. A corner of Daisy’s mouth cocked as she pictured the woman's fretful face.

Candace: A bit

I worked on some social media stuff

Don’t worry. I’ll send anything over before I post it

See you tomorrow

Daisy: Sounds good. See you

Daisy blinked at her phone. The bright white of the chat screen blared back at her, its emptiness daring her to add more. Her thumbs flew atop the keyboard and typed out the words she could not bring herself to say out loud .

Daisy: Thanks, Candace

When Candace told Daisy they would be meeting Demi after yoga, she did not realize the woman meant after taking yoga.

She said that Daisy could wait off to the side while they completed their practice.

There was no challenge in her tone, but Daisy found one anyway.

She grabbed an emergency beach towel from her cart and threw it down next to Candace’s.

It was an odd experience.

Daisy had never taken a yoga class before. Demi guided the practice,starting with a breathing exercise similar to the one Candace had shown her the other day. Then, she led the group through a series of poses that ranged from simple to how-is-that-possible.

Daisy was in reasonable shape, she thought. She lived a fairly active life that included biking around town, being on her feet, and even some lifting with all the boxes she hauled.

Yoga was a whole different animal. She bent and contorted her body to (poorly) match what Demi was demonstrating, using muscles she did not know she had. Not to mention the difficulty of balancing on sand. But, according to Candace, Demi’s beach classes were a huge shoobie draw.

Daisy knew very well that you had to give the shoobies what they wanted.

By the end, Daisy was gasping like a fish.

Candace and Demi, meanwhile, looked like…

well, Goddesses was the first word that came to mind, and she quickly shoved the thought down.

They packed up their gear and said their goodbyes to the other yo gis with pep in their steps, while Daisy slogged behind them.

Dressed in hot pink, coyly cropped Lycra that conformed to every contour and curve, blonde locks tied in a tight side braid, Candace led the way to a nearby beach bar.

Her leg muscles flexed as she picked her way over the shifting sand.

Under the hot morning sun, the barest sheen of sweat dappled her skin.

One bead dripped from the nape of her neck, down between her shoulder blades, to be absorbed by her sport-cut top.

Daisy gulped.

Beside Daisy, Demi cast a knowing side-eye.

“Gets the blood pumping, right?”

“Sorry?”

“The yoga, I mean. It’s good to see you outside of a random bump on the street, Zee. I’ve been looking forward to a chat with you…”

For 11AM on a Wednesday, Beachy Ben’s was surprisingly busy.

The bar—placed far up on the long beach to avoid the tide but close enough to be in sight of the rolling ocean waves—was a hive of activity.

Just about every stool of the central ship galley-themed wrap-around bar was filled.

Thankfully, nowhere was off limits to Candace Perry.

A few words to the hostess, and the eager-beaver manager himself was guiding them over to one of the bar’s private, reservation-only cabanas.

Daisy huffed, but even she had to admit the preferential treatment was nice.

Sitting in plush-lined wicker chairs that overlooked the water, strawberry daiquiris in hand, they planned Bagel Bombs’! future.

Since Daisy was keen on the initial designs, they started in a good place.

Her lease was very specific about the type of renovations she could make on the space.

Nothing structural, but, for the most part, anything was fair game.

This time, Peter Perry’s cheapness and desire to offload building upkeep onto his tenants worked in their favor.

Overall, Daisy added a couple of necessary changes and a handful of aesthetic ones, which Demi was able to plug right into her laptop’s design program.

Before her eyes, a potential future was coming into focus .

Apart from the occasional comment, Candace took a back seat while Daisy and Demi workshopped.

The other woman had a fair amount of practical kitchen knowledge thanks to working at the diner.

It was fun to consider paint choices and look up shiny, new industrial ovens.

Daisy felt like a teenager excitedly poring over a fashion magazine with a friend.

The idea of a countertop that was not laminated, peeling plywood was a dream.

Yet, as the improvements added up, Daisy could not help noticing the price tag.

“This is great, but I’ve gotta be honest. Between labor and materials, there’s no way I can pay for any of this.” Daisy gestured at Candace. “I can barely pay you.”

“I have the money,” Candace told her. “Don’t worry about it.”

Daisy ground her teeth. “Don’t ‘don’t worry about it’ me. What happened to keeping me in the loop? You told me you were broke.”

With prim decorum, Candace set her empty glass on the table and folded her hands atop her lap. Her attempt at a soothing voice had the opposite effect.

“You’re in the loop, I promise. This is a one-time cash infusion.”

“Oh? Did you go on another ‘date’ with one of your uncle’s friends?”

Daisy could not say why that was the question she asked. Or why she wanted an answer more than anything else. But her words hung heavily between them as they stared each other down.

Candace was difficult to read. All morning, she’d been quieter than usual. Now that Daisy was thinking about it, not a single expression reached the woman’s weary eyes. She was pleasant, but reserved. Even the hurt Daisy expected to see was absent.

Candace gave a simple, “No,” as she got to her feet and started for the cabana steps. “I need to use the restroom.”

An awkward beat passed.

The stuttered chords of an indie band attempting to get through a rendition of “ Margaritaville” filled the air around them, along with natural sounds of the rushing wind and waves. Daisy busied herself taking a long, loud draw from her empty drink. Even so, she could feel Demi’s gaze on her.

“If you have something to say, say it.”

Demi pursed her heart-shaped, coral pink lips.

Yoga seemed to have done well by her; aside from the barest hint, she looked like she had not aged a day since they graduated.

Her bond with Candace had also not changed.

She crossed her arms over the airy romper she’d thrown on and fixed Daisy with a reprimanding look.

“You know, I was worried when Can-can told me about this whole idea of hers. Don’t get me wrong, Bagel Bombs! is a Wonderwood institution, and I’d hate for you to have to close. But you two have a complicated history.”

“We’re good,” Daisy grunted. “We talked it out.”

“Mm-hm. That sounded real good just now.”

Cringing, Daisy could not dispute reality.

Demi relaxed her posture and let loose a softened sigh. As she went on, though, her tone was no less serious.

“Look, Candace is my best friend. If she’d let me move her into my house and help get her life back together, that’s what I’d be doing.

But she didn’t want that. For some reason, this is what she wants.

I don’t know whether it’s about setting things right with you, winning over her uncle, or proving that she can pull a business from the brink—maybe it’s a combination of the three.

“Whatever it is, don’t take her for granted.”

Daisy did not like feeling like she was being scolded. Or that a part of her agreed with the defensive friend. She shot back, “I was literally minding my own business until she showed up. Don’t make me the bad guy here.”

“I don’t think there are any ‘bad guys’ here,” Demi said with a shake of her head that bobbed her messy auburn bun.

“Well, Peter Perry and his goons, for sure. But you? I think you’re like most people, trying to figure yourself out.

Just make sure to not hurt my friend in the process. She’s been through enough.”

“Yeah, right,” Daisy mocked. “We’ve both got dead moms. Must’ve been real hard growing up getting whatever she wanted.”

Demi shook her head, her expression dangerously dark compared to her yogic, serene self from moments before. “You don’t know anything about her. What her uncle is like… She deserves better.”

“I—”

Daisy was grateful Candace chose that moment to return. Truthfully, she had no idea what was going to come out of her mouth next. She only knew the guilt gnawing at her, and her frustration at its source.

As she plopped three fresh drinks onto their table, Candace deadpanned, “I sold my car.”

“What?!”

Daisy and Demi made eye contact as they echoed one another.

In a disbelieving voice, Demi repeated, “You sold your car? But why? You loved her.”

Standing tall, Candace played with her drink’s umbrella. She shrugged, saying, “I did love her. She was also a limited edition and worth a nice house down payment. The collector I found was practically begging me for the sale.”

“What about the loan I was going to give you?”

“You’re already helping more than enough with these designs.

Really, it’s okay. This is a golden parachute I should have pulled a while back.

” Candace paused. It was almost imperceptible, but she seemed to shudder.

“Besides, I forgot how awful it is to have a recognizable car in a small town. You couldn’t pick the car I traded it for out of a lineup. ”

Demi shook her head with wonder. “That’s crazy, Can-can. We—”

“We should run the numbers for the design,” Daisy cut in.

For a moment, she caught eyes with Demi again.

The woman wanted her friend to not be taken for granted?

Fine. Daisy would gladly take whatever Candace wanted to give.

They were all adults. Daisy was not going to let herself feel guilty over a choice that was not hers to make.

Not too guilty, at least.

To Candace, Daisy said, “If we’re going to get the work done in time for the height of the season, we need to talk about timelines and get moving ASAP. Right?”

Candace nodded. For the first time all day, her seafoam eyes showed some spark.

Cocking a grin, Daisy said, “I assume you already have some of this worked out. Maybe a sticker-covered binder?”

That spark grew to a full, gorgeous glimmer. Daisy’s heart burned in response.

“Well, since you asked…”