Page 57 of Beaches, Bagels & Babes
“Gets the blood pumping, right?”
“Sorry?”
“The yoga, I mean. It’s good to see you outside of a random bump on the street, Zee. I’ve been looking forward to a chat with you…”
For 11AM on a Wednesday, Beachy Ben’s was surprisingly busy. The bar—placed far up on the long beach to avoid the tide but close enough to be in sight of the rolling ocean waves—was a hive of activity. Just about every stool of the central ship galley-themed wrap-around bar was filled. Thankfully, nowhere was off limits to Candace Perry.
A few words to the hostess, and the eager-beaver manager himself was guiding them over to one of the bar’s private, reservation-only cabanas. Daisy huffed, but even she had to admit the preferential treatment was nice. Sitting in plush-lined wicker chairs that overlooked the water, strawberry daiquiris in hand, they planned Bagel Bombs’! future.
Since Daisy was keen on the initial designs, they started in a good place. Her lease was very specific about the type of renovations she could make on the space. Nothing structural, but, for the most part, anything was fair game. This time, Peter Perry’s cheapness and desire to offload building upkeep onto his tenants worked in their favor. Overall, Daisy added a couple of necessary changes and a handful of aesthetic ones, which Demi was able to plug right into her laptop’s design program. Before her eyes, a potential future was coming into focus.
Apart from the occasional comment, Candace took a back seat while Daisy and Demi workshopped. The other woman had a fair amount of practical kitchen knowledge thanks to working at the diner. It was fun to consider paint choices and look up shiny, new industrial ovens. Daisy felt like a teenager excitedly poring over a fashion magazine with a friend. The idea of a countertop that was not laminated, peeling plywood was a dream. Yet, as the improvements added up, Daisy could not help noticing the price tag.
“This is great, but I’ve gotta be honest. Between labor and materials, there’s no way I can pay for any of this.” Daisy gestured at Candace. “I can barely pay you.”
“I have the money,” Candace told her. “Don’t worry about it.”
Daisy ground her teeth. “Don’t ‘don’t worry about it’ me. What happened to keeping me in the loop? You told me you were broke.”
With prim decorum, Candace set her empty glass on the table and folded her hands atop her lap. Her attempt at a soothing voice had the opposite effect.
“You’re in the loop, I promise. This is a one-time cash infusion.”
“Oh? Did you go on another ‘date’ with one of your uncle’s friends?”
Daisy could not say why that was the question she asked. Or why she wanted an answer more than anything else. But her words hung heavily between them as they stared each other down.
Candace was difficult to read. All morning, she’d been quieter than usual. Now that Daisy was thinking about it, not a single expression reached the woman’s weary eyes. She was pleasant, but reserved. Even the hurt Daisy expected to see was absent.
Candace gave a simple, “No,” as she got to her feet and started for the cabana steps. “I need to use the restroom.”
An awkward beat passed.
The stuttered chords of an indie band attempting to getthrough a rendition of “Margaritaville”filled the air around them, along with natural sounds of the rushing wind and waves. Daisy busied herself taking a long, loud draw from her empty drink. Even so, she could feel Demi’s gaze on her.
“If you have something to say, say it.”
Demi pursed her heart-shaped, coral pink lips. Yoga seemed to have done well by her; aside from the barest hint, she looked like she had not aged a day since they graduated. Her bond with Candace had also not changed. She crossed her arms over the airy romper she’d thrown on and fixed Daisy with a reprimanding look.
“You know, I was worried when Can-can told me about this whole idea of hers. Don’t get me wrong, Bagel Bombs! is a Wonderwood institution, and I’d hate for you to have to close. But you two have a complicated history.”
“We’re good,” Daisy grunted. “We talked it out.”
“Mm-hm. That sounded real good just now.”
Cringing, Daisy could not dispute reality.
Demi relaxed her posture and let loose a softened sigh. As she went on, though, her tone was no less serious.
“Look, Candace is my best friend. If she’d let me move her into my house and help get her life back together, that’s what I’d be doing. But she didn’t want that. For some reason,thisis what she wants. I don’t know whether it’s about setting things right with you, winning over her uncle, or proving that she can pull a business from the brink—maybe it’s a combination of the three.
“Whatever it is, don’t take her for granted.”
Daisy did not like feeling like she was being scolded. Or that a part of her agreed with the defensive friend. She shot back, “I wasliterallyminding my own business until she showed up. Don’t make me the bad guy here.”
“I don’t think there are any ‘bad guys’ here,” Demi said with a shake of her head that bobbed her messy auburn bun. “Well, Peter Perry and his goons, for sure. But you? I think you’re like most people, trying to figure yourself out. Just make sure tonot hurt my friend in the process. She’s been through enough.”
“Yeah, right,” Daisy mocked. “We’ve both got dead moms. Must’ve been real hard growing up getting whatever she wanted.”
