Page 47 of Beaches, Bagels & Babes
Her expression remained neutral, as did her tone. Even so, the directness of her gaze, the way she crossed her arms behind her back and leaned into Daisy’s space, felt like a challenge. Or a flirtation. In either case, both needed to be shut down.
“Yeah,” Daisy scoffed, leaning back as far as she could. “Like I need a root canal.”
With a shrug, Candace replied, “Proper dental care is important. And four hands are better than two. Let’s go.”
Rolling her eyes, Daisy locked up the house behind Candace. She opened the garage door with her key fob to reveal Otto and settled into the driver’s seat. Candace, looking dubious, hovered by the passenger side.
“My car is right over there,” she said. “Why don’t I—”
“No way am I riding in that ridiculous eyesore. Get in or go home.”
Pouting, Candace took her loss and belted into the passenger side. Daisy did not bother to hide her smirk.
The grocery route Daisy followed was as practiced and finely-tuned as her bagel preparation. Even her vehicle was outfitted for the task, with its back seat converted to a grocery-toting icebox. No, her golf cart was not street legal in the strictest sense. However, through the lesser-traveled side streets that ran along the bay and alleyways parallel to the major streets, she could zip by without too much trouble.
As long as she did not go driving on sidewalks or take the cart off-road, the police were content to let her pass with the occasional talking-to. They had bigger fish to fry (and ticket revenue to pursue), and some of the older PD members had known her since she was a little girl. Some had been on the scene of her parents’ accident and were the ones to deliver the news to her.
That was the thing about Wonderwood. It was a modern town, in constant flux thanks to the vacationers that came through year by year. Yet, when the summer season died and only the locals were left, it became something different. In off-season, Wonderwood was the type of small town Americana only shown in movies. If you were a local, people knew you or of you.
And, they knew Daisy well enough to leave her alone.
The open air rushing past Daisy filled her lungs with the scent of the shore, of nature, and the promise of freedom. Unconsciously, her death-grip on the steering wheel loosened. Being outside had always helped to stabilize her. When the weight of everything and her responsibilities seemed too heavy, this was what she needed.
Candace commented, “Wow. I didn’t know you could look so relaxed.”
“I’m a goddamn Zen master, Perry.”
With a laugh, Candace pulled out her phone and started recording once more. “Teach me your ways, O’ wise one!”
First was the Produce Pavilion for fresh vegetables and fruits. Daisy preferred to stock up at the bi-weekly farmer’s market, where local vendors set up with far more reasonable prices, but she had to make do in the meantime. She grabbed an extra case of strawberries since they were in season and looked a gorgeous shade of ruby red—strawberry cream cheese was always popular. And, as Candace moaned out an idea for chocolate bagel bombs filled with the sweet and savory mixture, Daisy had to admit it was a good one.
Next, they went to Carnie’s, the local butcher shop. While the place was more expensive than your run-of-the-mill grocery store, they stayed in business because they had the best cuts of meat in the area.
Daisy loaded up on bacon, pork roll, and scrapple. It was important to cook out as much liquid as possible from her ingredients, and the greasy breakfast meats were a challenge. Well worth it, though, since plain bombs loaded with meat were by far her best sellers.
At the big-box grocery store, Daisy picked up her bulk general items like flour, yeast, and eggs. Candace offered to be her second set of hands, so Daisy stacked her like a humanmannequin. She only laughed a little when the woman toppled and nearly dropped the whole load.
Last on Daisy’s route was Marin’s Crab Shack for lump crab meat, scallops, and lox. The trifecta were “toppings” she offered along with the other breakfast meats. It was a little bougie, but she had some die-hard regulars like Norman who got them with every order. Daisy liked to give her customers what they wanted, so she kept it up. Even if the only way she could keep stock was thanks to Marin’s special prices.
Which, it seemed, were about to end. While Daisy was paying up at the register, she broke the news.
“So, you hear about Mort’s?”
Feeling an ominous pang of foreboding as she stuffed cash back into her cross-body bag, Daisy shook her head. Mort’s was, for a time, one of the most popular seafood restaurants of all the New Jersey shore towns. They sourced their ingredients from local fishers and were known for their top-quality, high-priced dishes. Unfortunately, local gossip said that times had been tough for the business. Last Daisy heard, the place was barely scraping by.
The old salt confirmed it.
“End a’ July, they told me. Just put their last order.”
Annoyingly, Candace threw her two cents in.
“That’s so sad! I used to go there all the time when I was little. They had the best clams casino that was so buttery, it would just melt in your mouth like… mmm!!” She had the grace to flush as she either remembered her current company or caught Daisy’s sour look. “Sorry, I skipped breakfast.”
The crow's feet around Marin’s eyes crinkled with her hearty chuckle, giving her sun-leathered face a craggy quality. “No need. I’ll take it as a compliment. I work hard to harvest those buggers. Or, worked, I suppose.”
Pausing, Marin sighed, puffing an escaped wisp of salt and pepper hair from her face. The sinking feeling in Daisy’s stomach became a black pit.
Candace asked, “Why are they closing? People used to callweeks ahead of time to get a table. Well, not us, but other people.”
