Page 49 of Beaches, Bagels & Babes
Daisy couldn’t argue.
At the house, Daisy parked in the driveway. Before she could start unloading the groceries, Candace stopped her.
“Can we sit for a minute?”
Daisy grumbled but made no motion to leave. It was a fucking gorgeous day. The kind where you could take a big beach towel, grab an umbrella, and sleep outside lulled by the sounds of the sea. Daisy wished she could have a carefree day like that. Instead, her head swam with worries.
Candace’s voice cut through.
“We can figure out where to source new product. I kept the receipts from today so I can compare prices and see if there’s anywhere I could save us some cash. There have to bedistributors we can work with to buy in bulk, and this friend of Marin’s—if they’re right across the bay, we can—”
“I can’t!”
The declaration shot out like kettle steam. Once Daisy started, she couldn’t stop.
“None of the local distributors will work with me anymore. They’re all either connected to your uncle, or I’ve already run through my credit. I do my bookkeeping, I make sure to pay Rio and Dotty on time… ish. But the truth is, I’m a shit business owner. I lose track of things. I make promises, forget, and disappoint people.
“I don’t have enough space in my head for the details I need to keep track of. Bagel Bombs! is falling apart, and it’s taking everything I have to keep it together. The only reason I’ve managed to keep things running this long is thanks to people like Marin, likeyou, taking pity on me.
“All that, and I still don’t have a life! No hobbies. No friends. The idea I’d ever have time for a girlfriend is a joke. Not that anyone would ever put up with me. I can’t even leave the island because of that damn bri—”
Daisy clamped her mouth shut. Her stomach churned, and a cold sweat began to trickle down her back. She did not want to talk about this. She never did because she was so ashamed of her weakness.
It was a bridge. At the height of the summer, thousands of people crossed it every day. Other than a boat trip across the bay, it was the only way on and off the island. And Daisy, mired in her unresolved trauma, had not crossed it since her parents’ deaths.
Every time she came close, even the thought could send her spiraling. Like now.
Again, Candace’s voice brought Daisy back.
“Turn towards me and close your eyes.”
“What? Why?”
“Humor me. Please, Daisy.”
Daisy was not sure why, maybe because she liked thedesperate tone of the other woman’s voice, but she listened. Seconds passed, yet it might as well have been an eternity to her keyed-up self. She flinched as Candace’s hands grasped both of hers. With deliberate care, Candace placed one set of their combined hands over Daisy’s heart and one overtop her belly. Then, she spoke.
“Breathe in through your nose, out through your mouth. In. Out. Fill yourself completely and release it all back.”
“C’mon,” Daisy complained, eyes open. “I don’t have time for this.”
“You don’t have time for breathing?”
Daisy scoffed. She wriggled, but Candace held fast. Eventually, she gave in and shut her eyes once more.
From there, Candace guided Daisy through her first-ever breathing exercise. It was silly. And a little weird. But with each breath, as she scraped the back of her throat and the bottom of her lungs with life-giving air, she found herself calming down. Candace’s words were an anchor. Not one that dragged her down, but a guiding line back to the surface.
Reassuring.
Focused.
Kind.
Candace’s voice was a mesmerizing mantra. It made Daisy feel like she could face her problems. She might not overcome them today, not tomorrow, but they would not control her forever. As long as she kept breathing.
When Candace finished, she told Daisy to go at her own pace. To take in the sounds, smells, and energy around them. Then, release. Seconds trickled by as they sat in contented silence.
After a time, Daisy cracked an eye open to observe Candace. She was a far cry from the woman who ended up bawling in front of her cafe. Dressed in Daisy’s clothes, her hair let loose from its usual ponytail or bun, she looked like a different person. But, also, one who Daisy had known most of her life.
