Page 3 of Beaches, Bagels & Babes
“Um, it’s blueberry and cream cheese mixed with chunky peanut butter. It’s best toasted.”
“Mmmmm… Okay! As long as it won’t get you in trouble, I’ll try one.”
Daisy put the girl’s sample bomb into the big, industrial toaster oven, plus an extra one for herself. While they waited, Daisy shifted nervously. It was hard to decide whether she wanted the moment to go faster or if she wanted to ‘accidentally’ drop the bombs so the girl would have to stay longer. The latter option felt pretty nefarious, but if itworked…
She was surprised when the girl started making conversation.
“You really made them all by yourself? And you work here, too? That’s so cool!”
“‘Cool?’”
“Yeah! I mean, you’re in charge, right? So you can talk back to adults or do whatever you want. It must be fun.”
Daisy had never thought of her conscription that way, but she supposed there was something nice about it.
“I guess so. I get to keep tips. And yeah, I sometimes come up with flavor ideas when my dad says we need something new. My PB&J is pretty popular.”
“See? That’s cool! I wanted to get a summer job, but my uncle says I’m not allowed, ever, since I’d just mess it up. He told me to marry rich if I want money.”
Daisy deadpanned, “He sounds like a jerk.”
This time, the girl did not giggle. A small, forced smile tugged away her true one.
“He tries. He might say things like that, but he cares about me.”
“Until the rich husband?”
The girl snorted, looking less than enthused.
“Or not,” Daisy backtracked. “Maybe you’ll be rich, and your husband’ll ask you for money.”
Or-or,Daisy’s internal voice whispered, ditch the husband and get a wife!
While same-sex marriage was still illegal in the United States, with the recent ruling in Massachusetts, it was technically possible. For Daisy, who was just starting to realize her lack of interest in boys, that possibility was very appealing.
The glow returned to the girl’s expression. She rocked back on her heels, musing, “Maybe.”
Seconds later, the toaster oven buzzer went off. Daisy gathered the bagel bombs in paper baggies, one for her and one for the girl. Their fingers brushed as she handed it over, ahappy accident that wasn’t so accidental.
“Thank you,” the girl said. “My name is Candace, by the way.”
“D-Daisy.” Her voice cracked as she realized she might never see this Candace-girl again. She blurted out, “Are you on vacation? There are a lot of places only locals know. I’m about to close up so I can show you around. Um, if you want.”
Candace hesitated. Again, she chewed her lip.
“I’m not. Visiting, I mean. But I’d—”
“Candy.”
The single, icy utterance made both girls stand bolt-straight. It was the blond man. Daisy had been too preoccupied to notice the business people walk over. He came up close to Candace and placed a tightly gripped hand on top of her shoulder.
Fear struck Daisy as she realized who the man was: Peter Perry, the owner of Perry’s Pier. Her parents pointed him out and told her to be extra careful if she ever served him. Not that he would ever be caught dead patronizing their “eyesore” of a cafe, as he called it, but just in case. Her mom said he was “a powerful man with powerful friends who weren’t afraid to be bad.”
Daisy clocked him as trouble just by looking at him. Full of swagger, like he owned the place in his Tommy Bahama button-down and linen slacks, he was the type who was all fun and games as long as he got his way. If not, he’d do everything he could to make you miserable. His bright smile, contrasted by the tanning-bed bronze of his skin, was shark-like.
He repeated the infantilizing nickname, this time in a sickeningly sweet tone. “Candy. Baby, I told you to wait.”
“Sorry, Uncle Perry. I saw this girl here, and we started talking. She’s really nice.”
