Page 81 of Beaches, Bagels & Babes
“Mandy Munches,” Daisy yelled back. Beside her, Candace giggled and looped her free arm around the one she was already holding. Sounding more like a normal human, she added, “We’re selling Mandy Munches at the cafe—everything bagel with matcha cream cheese. They’re a hit, so far.”
Candace praised, “As they should be!”
They made more idle conversation, but before long, the ride was over. Despite the bay’s supposed choppiness, it was smooth sailing to the other side. Candace even showed off her boating skills by docking the vessel, the sight of which unlocked a latent pirate queen fantasy inside Daisy.
When they reached the posh marina on the other side of the dock, Ted helped them disembark. Then, with the promise to take them back to Wonderwood whenever they wanted, he went on his way.
The hospital was not in Cape Crest, but another twenty minutes by car in the next town over. Feeling like she could handle it without the bridge, Daisy had Candace order a ride through her phone app. It was only as they went to get into thebackseat that she realized they were still holding hands.
Daisy did not let go, and neither did Candace.
Leaving Wonderwood for the first time in over a decade was surreal.
More than surreal, it was like coming out of a deep sleep. Growing up, Daisy had come through Cape Crest with her parents often. It was one of the many semi-industrialized suburban municipalities that dotted South Jersey’s rural stretches; a collection of single-level strip mall plazas, apartment blocks, and cul-de-sacs anchored by some chain establishments right off some major interstate highway. There was a chaotic quaintness to the mismatch of it all.
On their way to the hospital, Daisy saw familiar places like the Adventure Putt Putt or Candace’s Comfort Clam Inn. Holy Mother Prepwas empty for the summer, but it was just as posh as she remembered with its gated access and sculpted hedges. The mega big-box store on the edge of town was packed with shoobies and locals alike, shopping for storm supplies.
Daisy made a mental note to start her preparations. Normally, such a wipeout end to the season would have ruined her. Yet, they were so far ahead that they could afford to weather whatever the storm brought.
Bagel Bombs! officially hit the revenue goal for Peter Perry’s lease clause. Against all odds, they met their original target and then some. However, thanks to Candace being stuck elsewhere, what should have been a roaring celebration hit like a lead balloon.
Daisy needed to tell her. But, then, would Candace decide their partnership was through? In their stilted conversations over the last few weeks, Daisy managed to avoid mentioning specifically how well they were doing. However, the summer was not going to last forever, and she had to come clean.
At the hospital, they navigated their way around the hotel-like corridors to find Norman’s room. To no one’s surprise, they found him chatting up a nurse about some article from his daily paper. When he saw them in the doorway, his jovialexpression dropped.
“Lil bit,” he croaked, looking so small and frail in his hospital bed. “You came all this way for me?”
Daisy fished a paper bomb baggie from her cross-body bag and gave it over to the stunned man. “Special delivery.”
Once the emotions simmered down, Daisy asked about Norman’s prognosis, which was stable, and then she caught him up with all Wonderwood’s goings-on. Of course, with his paper, he was more connected than she was. The only thing he did not know about was Bagel Bombs! success. When Candace, who had been quietly empathy-crying in the corner, left to get some water, she told him the good news.
“Your parents would be so proud of you,” he assured her. “With everything they had going for them, things should’ve been so much easier for you. But you’re still kicking life right in the tuckus.I’mproud of you, too.”
Daisy sniffed back another round of tears in a lovely sounding snort. “Don’t go trying to butter me up, old man. I know you can afford full price.”
“Right, right…”
Scooting up, Norman leaned forward to peep out into the hallway. Aside from one grayhair knee replacement patient wheeling their way along, it was empty.
“So,” he prodded, “you finally womaned up and called her, eh? Bout time, with all the moping you’ve been doing.”
“It’s not like that. I needed her car. And a boat.”
Norman tisked Daisy. “What youneedto do is fess up how you feel.”
“It’s not that easy. I’ve been trying. But I’m not sure she feels the same way anymore.”
“Have you asked?”
As she scrubbed at the nape of her neck, she grumbled a “no.”
“Use your words, girlie! Take it from an old man who’s lived a full life. The people you let in, the ones you want to keep… make sure they know it.”
The steady hum of medical machines and intermittent beeps answered when Daisy did not—the truth and gravity of mortality made into tonal melodies.
“Now, as much as this old man appreciates a visit, take that girl on a proper date.”
How could Daisy argue?
