Page 12 of Beaches, Bagels & Babes
“Candy!” Tim Burgson, who had hopped from a position on the town council to big-wig county executive despite several sexual harrassment suits from his secretaries, greeted, “I’ll be damned! Here, have a seat.”
Without waiting for a reply, the man rose and offered Candace his wicker chair—mostly, she thought, so that he could have the excuse to hover and look down her dress. He continued. “We didn’t believe Pete when he said you were coming. A pretty woman like you has better things to do than spend your time with a bunch of old men.”
A candid, “I do,” slipped out before Candace could stop herself. Without missing a beat, she added, “But it wouldn’t be half as fun! Nice to see you, Uncle Tim. And everyone else, too. It’s been ages.”
One by one, Candace said her hellos to the table. She wanted to remind them both that she was not some airhead, and that she knew who to file charges against if they decided to get fresh. Uncle Perry tipped his bourbon at her.
“Welcome home, Candy. I knew you wouldn’t be able to resist Wonderwood for too long.”
Candace worked her grimace into a toothy smile. “Spot on, as always. Happy to be home.”
From there, Candace hoped to fade into the background. She would laugh at the occasional off-color joke, throw out some pleasantries, and bide her time. When they were alone, after she took whatever mocking she had due for the loan, she would ask her uncle about a job. Beg him. She would frame it as her getting into the family business, something wholesome he could play up with his friends and fans. His ego was huge, so there was a chance he would go along.
Unfortunately, the group’s attention stayed stuck on Candace.
“You were up in New York City, weren’t you?” Ed Cando, the former police chief, probed, “Are you visiting for the summer, or isReal Housewives: Wonderwoodgetting a new cast member?”
“Oh, the housewives and I are getting our nails done tomorrow,” Candace said, flipping the misogynistic joke. “They’ve got to catch me up on all the gossip with you boys. But they couldn’t afford my full-time fee. I’m a guest star.”
“Is that so? Too bad. See, we heard you might be making a more permanent move. I was going to set you up with my boy. He could use a good woman like you.”
Even with the sun landing right on her, it took Candace considerable effort to contain her shiver. She popped a ham and cheddar croquette into her mouth to give herself time to think of a reply.
Although they had not gone to school together, the ‘boy’ had been a part of her extended friend group during her time spent on the island. It was difficult to imagine he had matured much from the obnoxious beach bro he was back then. Ted Cando would never be the one for her. She wouldn’t be interested in him even if she were interested in men, and there werenoifs when it came to that—she’d tried.
Across the table, Uncle Perry eyed Candace with something that was a cross between disdain and amusement. He’d known she was a lesbian from reading her journals and monitoring her internet search history when she was forced to share a roof with him. He knew, and his biggest concern was that she did not embarrass him by confirming it to mutual acquaintances. Now, because he had no desire to broach the topic of his niece’s sexuality with his conservative-leaning cohort, he came to her rescue.
“Your boy needs a saint to fix him, Ed. Don’t put that on my poor Candy.” The group chortled heartily at the insult. Even Ed, despite the tensing of his expression.
Candace took extra long chewing the appetizer that barely needed any. She added, “I’m flattered, really. But with everything I have going on, dating is the last thing on my mind.”
“Oh?” Ed asked with the sharp eyes of a former investigator, “What keeps a girl like you busy if it’s not dating or sun bathingwith the girls?”
Candace forced herself to take a breath instead of letting out her snapping retort.
Because of course those are the only things ‘a girl like me’ would be interested in. Ass.
As she took a second breath, her silence gave Uncle Perry room to torment her.
“See,” he added with a devilish grin, “the working-world has been a culture shock for my girl. I tried to warn her that she’s better at spending money than keeping track of it for others, but she’s stubborn.”
The local rotary president, Sal Rocco, ribbed, “That’s the pot calling the kettle!”
Uncle Perry waved him off.
“For me, it’s focus. Drive. When I dig my heels in, it’s because I know I’m going to win. My girl Candy just doesn’t like being told no.”
Candace fidgeted in her chair as the group laughed.
“I was—I am— good at my job.”
Uncle Perry asked, “If you’re so good, why were they so quick to let you go?”
“I… I don’t know.”
To his friends, he jeered, “That’s familiar. The half-brain teens I fire for lighting up in the ride booths say the same thing.”
“That’s unfair. I worked hard to get where I was, and I never stopped. It’s possible I made a mistake, but it was not something my superiors were willing to discuss at my exit interview. If you listened to me, you’d know that.”
