Page 77 of Beaches, Bagels & Babes
Apologizing to Demi, Candace made up an excuse about her break being over. She fled from Daisy, and the feelings that were growing impossible to fight.
Throughout the first half of August, Candace did her best to cut back contact with Daisy. She stopped answering her good morning texts, and pretended to be too busy for their nighttime chats. Communications were kept professional. Despite Daisy’s best attempts to steer their conversations to ‘fun’ topics, if it was not about Bagel Bombs! or business-related, Candace did not engage.
It was beyond difficult. Candace wanted to talk to Daisy about her art, her day, what she thought of the show they had been watching… if they could forget about everything and run away together…
But this was how things had to be if Bagel Bombs!—and she—was going to make it through the summer. Candace just needed to focus on finding their golden ticket to take down her uncle. She promised Daisy that she would fix things, and she was determined to keep good on her word.
No matter how miserable it made her.
The worst part was that Daisy noticed the emotional pull back. She asked if something was wrong, and Candace flopped out a fib about how she was exhausted. That she was trying her best, and everything was fine. She encouraged Daisy to focus on the cafe and herself. Candace was no stranger to playing oblivious when it came to placating hurt feelings with others. Yet, lying to Daisy only made the pit in her stomach deepen.
Candace felt anchored by her past. It dragged her down, and she was letting it. For all the hurt she had caused, it was where she deserved to be. Daisy was the only one who could set her loose. Yet, Candace, mired in self-hate, kept pushing her away.
Until she could not.
The minute Candace arrived at the fun pier offices on another soupy late-summer morning, she was greeted by Janice. The woman was, in the kindest terms, Uncle Perry’s sycophantic secretary. Janice had been around longer than any of his other employees, and it was a sure bet that she knew where all the (hopefully) metaphorical bodies were buried. She was a devoted Christian, the type who believed ‘imperfectvessels could produce God’s perfect works.’ So, of course, she worshiped Peter Perry.
For as long as Candace had known her, the woman looked the same with her endless supply of knit sweaters worn even on the hottest summer days and long, ankle-length skirts. Today, it was the ugliest combination yet of puke green and a busy bathroom curtain of a floral pattern.
Practically bouncing with excitement, Janice told Candace, “The Solid Rock Group is stopping by today to work out some final details with Mr. Perry. He asked you to be at the meeting.”
“Why? That has nothing to do with me.”
Candace was a prop in those meetings. They never spoke to her, and only looked her way to leer. She was sick of it.
The woman’s eyes popped behind her glasses. She pushed them up the bridge of her pug nose with a disapproving look. She would never think of questioning Peter Perry’s wisdom, but she was too much of a coward to talk back to Candace, either.
“I didn’t ask. He’s a very busy man, Candy. I sent the details to your calendar.”
Flatly, Candace thanked her. Bending her schedule for a narcissist (anymore than she already was) had not been a part of her plan for today. Candace had bigger fish to fry, and she was running out of time.
In her desperation, Candace had even broken into Ernest Leary’s old office to root around. The deceased accountant had always been a bit of an odd duck. He was friends with her uncle, and a part of the boy’s club and Wonderwood’s regressive political sphere. Yet, when Candace went off to college with aspirations in his field, Leary encouraged her. The rigid values his type stuck to could bend in very odd places. Unfortunately, there was nothing useful in the abandoned space, nothing important, as if anything consequential had already been cleared out.
For the rest of her day, up until the meeting later that afternoon, Candace continued her fruitless ‘straightening.’ Shelost track of time and was the last to arrive at her uncle’s office. The place was located off-boardwalk in averynice colonial-style building on Wonderwood’s main street. It was a historic building, an old ship captain’s mansion with a gorgeous widow’s walk balcony that overlooked the town below. Peter Perry cared nothing for the history, of course, but enjoyed the prestige of doing business there.
Unlike his dank, mildewy space beneath the pier, this place was meant to impress. Separate from his private study, business was conducted in a hall of a room that was gilded to the nines. It had artful crown moulding, gaudy Victorian-style wallpaper, and ornate French salon furniture in a mock imitation of grandeur. Candace had always thought her uncle decorated the place like a funeral parlor.
Meeting eyes with her glowering uncle, Candace took the open seat next to him. On his other side, Vinny Lamarka gave her a cringingly upbeat hello. The God Squad was seated on the opposite side of the oversized table. Spread out between the two groups were an array of documents.
“As I was saying, I believe this is everything your firm asked for,” Lamarka told the group. “All of our records are in order. What you see here are our current plans for renovating Perry’s Pier and a significant portion of the adjacent boardwalk properties. With your investment, it could become the greatest, most exclusive beach front resort on the east coast.”
“Super,” the bow-tie wearing man gushed. “We’re thrilled about this partnership and bringing a little wholesome family fun to the shore. Once our lawyers verify everything, we’ll be able to work out more details.”
Candace tried not to be obvious as she strained to see everything she could of the documents before they were shuffled away into a manila folder. Her heart dropped.
“The permits,” she murmured, “you already have them?”
Somehow, Uncle Perry already had the official building plans stamped and approved. Bagel Bombs!,along with the entire building on that section of the Wonderwood boardwalk,was slated for demolition. In its place, he wanted to build a behemoth resort that would make Mar-a-Lago look humble. So much of their hard work was going to be for nothing.
Uncle Perry seemed to enjoy watching the realization hit Candace. Leaning back in his kingly leather chair, he said with a smug tilt, “It helps to have friends move things along. Wonderwood officials know not to stand in the way of progress.”
“What about your renters? They have multi-year lease agreements. You can’t—”
“I can and will. Agreements change all the time, especially with something as trivial as this. It’s business, Candy.”
“But you said Daisy—”
“Screw the DeMarco girl! She can stay if she wants, but that building is coming down.”
