Page 23 of Beaches, Bagels & Babes
Chapter 7
Candace
Sweat streaked down Candace in artful patterns. Sheening, slick, and result of the best release of endorphins she had in months. It was intense. Passionate, even. The only thing better would have been sex. Unfortunately, it had been ages since she managedthatkind of release. This activity was the best alternative she could get.
Hot yoga was one of the few places Candace let herself descend into disarray. She had only started practicing a few years back, having been dragged to a class by Demi during one of her many visits to New York. But, after forcing herself through some rough initial sweltering forays, she fell in love.
It was glorious. She sweated, huffed, and put on muscle that her uncle complained about being “mannish.” Despite a lifetime of obsessively worrying about what everyone was thinking of her, she only paid attention to what washappening on her own mat. Today of all days, it was exactly what she needed to recenter herself.
The pep talk Demi gave her afterwards was less helpful. After showering at the yoga studio, the pair headed out for a late dinner at her family’s restaurant. A cacophony of clinks and casual conversation filled the bustling Greek diner. Candace was glad to see the place so busy, as much as it used to be years ago when she would visit Demi while she waited tables. Just like back then, the woman could not help fussing over her. Demi leaned over the faux marble laminant tabletop towards Candace, and her bold, arched brows knitted with concern.
“So, you’re really doing this?”
“Eating a whole gyro? After that workout, yeah, I think I can manage.”
Demi blew her drink straw paper at Candace, missing by a mile.
“Don’t play dumb. I’m talking about this scheme of yours. You and Daisy have history.Complicatedhistory. It sounds to me like she doesn’t even want your help.”
“Who said anything about scheming? I’ve been suggesting. Emphatically, because I’m right. Whether she wants my help or not, she’s dead in the water without me.”
Snorting, Demi joked, “There’s that famous Perry humility. I’m glad to see your ego is back.” The comment and tangential comparison to Peter Perry rankled. As Candace winced, Demi was perceptive as ever and noticed. Her hand found Candace’s atop the table. “Sorry. It’s a good thing, I mean it. I was worried after—”
“Don’t be,” Candace cut her off. She did not want to hear the word ‘fired.’ Being in limbo for her next job was bad enough. She pulled her hand away and crossed her arms, trying her best not to sound defensive. “Look. Who helped you write your business plan for the studio? Or put together that elaborate doppelganger story to get your ex off your back?”
“You,” she conceded in a huff.
“Yep, me. As long as you’ve known me, I’ve always had a plan. And this is a golden one.”
“For you, or for her?”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
The bangles on Demi’s wrists jingled as she held up her hands in defense. “Nothing. I just want to make sure you’re doing this for the right reasons… Not because you feel guilty over what happened between you two.”
Leave it to Demi to cut to the heart of things. She knew Candace better than anyone else, making it difficult to hide from the truth. Thankfully, one of Demi’s young cousins chose that moment to drop a whole tray of fountain soda drinks. The thunderous crash made the entire place fall silent.
Under her breath, Demi mumbled something in Greek and sidled out of the booth. To Candace, she ordered, “Hold that thought.”
Candace could not help smiling as she watched the scene. While the girl, Tina, cried over her clumsiness and ineffectively dabbed at the mess with her lone towel, her family set to action. There was a lot of bickering and opinions on the best way to mop. Demi looked like she wanted to slap her cousin Leo when he suggested using paper towels. It was like something out of a comedy skit. Most importantly, though, they rallied around each other when one of them needed help.
South Jersey Greek diners had a distinct vibe. It was pure chaos, a perfect dance of synchronized service. Always family-run, and staffed with every extended relative capable of wiping down a sticky menu. From backline cook to hostess, they knew that they could rely on each other for support.
But who did Bagel Bombs! have? Who would step in to help Daisy? Candace knew what it was like to not have a big family support system.
When Demi came back, she brought their food with her. Two heaping platters, gyros (pronouncedYEE-roh, not JAI-ros, as Demi would firmly correct), one lamb for Candace, the otherfalafel for Demi, looked like little food mountains atop the table. The scent of warmed pita, dill, and other spices sent a flood of saliva into Candace’s mouth.
Before she tucked in, Candace ignored Demi’s question and asked one of her own. “What do they say about Daisy? She must have friends and hobbies…. Go places in the off-season. I know you hear things from your yogis.”
“Oh yeah, I hear a lot of things. But I’m no Gabby-gossip.”
Laughing, Demi tossed her petite frame back against the plush, pleather maroon booth backing. Small and curvy with a deceptive amount of muscle thanks to her yogic pursuits, she had shoulder-length, curly auburn hair that she most often confined in a loose (yet effortlessly artistic) bun. With big, colorful, beaded earrings and an airy, floral print creamy white dress, she set a particular boho vibe. In a lineup, she would be the first person you would point out as the owner of a chic, small town yoga studio. However, her cute, festival girl appearance hid that she was a shrewd businesswoman like her restaurant-owning relatives.
Over the last several years, Demi turned her little shore town yoga studio, Downwood Dog Yoga, into a vacation destination. Candace gave her a few financial pointers, but really, the woman earned her success. With special classes on the beach, teacher training, and more, shoobies and locals alike loved her. She had clientele from all walks of life, young and old, rich and poor… Bagel-eaters…
She had to have heard something of Daisy DeMarco.
“Demi,” Candace urged. “You can’t ask me if I’m sure, then clam up. What’s the deal with her? Her bagels are delicious, she’s good at what she does, but she seems…”
