Page 56 of Beaches, Bagels & Babes
Daisy snorted. “More like glass. She’s got her uses, but I’m trying not to get cut again.”
Norman did not reply. He watched Daisy with a thoughtful expression until he moved on with his day.
By the time Daisy left Bagel Bombs! in Rio’s care, she was in the worst mood imaginable. She did not go home. When she was so distracted, inventory prep and baking with precision measurements was a recipe for failure. One of the few things that could mellow her when her thoughts turned so dour was going to her favorite place, Higbee Point.
It was an old speakeasy spot on the far point of the island, covered in wooded marshland. Although there was a small beach, tourists tended to avoid it since the cove was only accessible by way of a trail that cut through a quaint copse. This time of year, the area was bursting with colorful blossoms, from elegant swamp mallow rose bushes to silk trees with their fanning, fragrant pink petals.
By the time Daisy reached the beach, it was nearly sunset. She walked along the sandy strip, lost in a mess of thoughts, soaking in the shimmering glow. Occasionally, her path was blocked by beached horseshoe crabs left behind from their egg-laying as the tide pulled back. One by one, she flipped the helpless creatures and placed them carapace-up in the reaching wave runoff that rushed the shore. It was a small mercy, but it saved them from being seagull food.
Daisy continued her habit of picking up junk treasures. Opaque sea glass that somehow still glimmered, shells, funkypieces of driftwood, and even a barnacle-covered, tarnished silver spoon. She ended up sitting near the remnants of a moldering dock, where her hands moved of their own accord to arrange her finds. She used to do this often, making a sculpture for the next person who came walking along, or, more likely, to be reclaimed by the sea.
Watching dusky darkness descend on the bay beyond her, Daisy felt herself relax. Her thoughts and feelings were still a confusing swirl. Yet, as her phone chimed with a message from Candace, she did not feel her usual pang of annoyance.
Candace:Demi said we can meet tomorrow morning after her beach yoga class to go over the designs. Can Dotty cover BB?
Daisy: Shouldn’t be a problem
Candace: Great
The conversation could have stopped there. Before she could talk herself out of it, Daisy sent another text.
Daisy: Feeling any better?
The text indicator disappeared and reappeared half a dozen times before Candace’s response came through in a barrage of staggered parts. A corner of Daisy’s mouth cocked as she pictured the woman's fretful face.
Candace:A bit
I worked on some social media stuff
Don’t worry. I’ll send anything over before I post it
See you tomorrow
Daisy: Sounds good. See you
Daisy blinked at her phone. The bright white of the chat screen blared back at her, its emptiness daring her to add more. Her thumbs flew atop the keyboard and typed out the words she could not bring herself to say out loud.
Daisy: Thanks, Candace
When Candace told Daisy they would be meeting Demi after yoga, she did not realize the woman meant aftertakingyoga. She said that Daisy could wait off to the side while they completed their practice. There was no challenge in her tone, but Daisy found one anyway. She grabbed an emergency beach towel from her cart and threw it down next to Candace’s.
It was an odd experience.
Daisy had never taken a yoga class before. Demi guided the practice,starting with a breathing exercise similar to the one Candace had shown her the other day. Then, she led the group through a series of poses that ranged from simple to how-is-that-possible.
Daisy was in reasonable shape, she thought. She lived a fairly active life that included biking around town, being on her feet, and even some lifting with all the boxes she hauled.
Yoga was a whole different animal. She bent and contorted her body to (poorly) match what Demi was demonstrating, using muscles she did not know she had. Not to mention the difficulty of balancing on sand. But, according to Candace, Demi’s beach classes were a huge shoobie draw.
Daisy knew very well that you had to give the shoobies what they wanted.
By the end, Daisy was gasping like a fish. Candace and Demi, meanwhile, looked like… well, Goddesses was the first word that came to mind, and she quickly shoved the thought down. They packed up their gear and said their goodbyes to the other yogis with pep in their steps, while Daisy slogged behind them.
Dressed in hot pink, coyly cropped Lycra that conformed to every contour and curve, blonde locks tied in a tight side braid, Candace led the way to a nearby beach bar. Her leg muscles flexed as she picked her way over the shifting sand. Under the hot morning sun, the barest sheen of sweat dappled her skin. One bead dripped from the nape of her neck, down between her shoulder blades, to be absorbed by her sport-cut top.
Daisy gulped.
Beside Daisy, Demi cast a knowing side-eye.
