“Bizzy Baker Wilder!” Georgie Conner, an eighty-something gloriously happy hippie whom I consider to be family, waves me over in her direction where she stands wearing an orange kaftan as bright as a traffic cone. “Guess what?” she chirps. “I’ve got the hot new shop in town to agree to sell a few of my quilts!”
“That’s wonderful!” I grin at the news, right up until I realize she’s talking about the questionable shop that just opened.
Georgie has gray wiry hair that sits at her shoulders, and her eyes are baby blue with just enough mischief in each one to let you know she means business. And standing beside her is her daughter, Juniper Moonbeam, better known as Juni.
Juni is basically Georgie minus a few gray hairs and wrinkles—and a little more rock and roll biker chick and a lot less happy hippie. Fun fact: Juni was once briefly married to my father. I can’t remember if she was wife number three or thirteen. My father goes through wives like some people go through a bag of chips.
I’m a bit prideful to say my mother was the first Mrs. Baker, and she lived to tell the tale—or more to the point, she let him live to tell the tale. They’re both wonderful parents, just not while joined in holy matrimony to each other.
A horrible groan comes from my sister. “Georgie!” she snips. “How dare you sell your crooked quilts at that copycat establishment.”
Georgie grunts, “They’re called wonky quilts. And when I offered to sell them at your place, you told me to take my bohemian blankets and hit the highway.”
The wonky quilts are a rather new hobby of hers. Georgie is actually a mosaic artist who specializes in the use of sea glass. But last month after the inn hosted a haunted quilt display—long, horrible story—she basically fell in love with the idea of creating artful bedding. It’s safe to say Georgie has put her artistic spin on these quilts, with their large swaths of fabric pieced every which way and unfinished edges that give them a fringed look. They’re mostly made up of bright random patterns, but the ones she’s been working on lately all seem to have an autumn theme to them with pumpkins and maple leaves in every color.
Macy nods with an incredulous look on her face. “And when I told you to hit the highway, I said it with love.”
Juni snorts as she wraps herself in one of Georgie’s wonky quilts, a black and orange design with fall leaves printed all over it. “That’s right, Macy. And then you told her to try her luck somewhere where they might actually buy into daydreams and delusions—and she did. If my mama is anything, she’s tenacious. And now look? The shop has been open for less than a half hour and she’s already sold three!”
Macy scowls. “That’s because you probably bought them all.”
“I bought one because it happened to be freezing out.” Juni cinches the quilt tightly around herself before smacking her mother on the shoulder. “I just had a brilliant idea! Three words—wonky quilt jacket!”
“Yes!” Georgie howls so loud you’d think she won the lottery. “I’ll get right on those, Toots. Oh, we are going to make a killing off of them.”
The crowd thins and we can see clearly into Suds and Illuminations, causing both Macy and me to gasp at the very same time.
Much like my sister’s quaint shop, this overnight pop-up has the same buy-one-get-one-free candle display at the front of the store. And sitting in the window is a large lavender wisteria tree strewn with twinkle lights almost identical to the one my sister has.
A petite blonde steps out of the establishment in question and sheds an easy smile our way.
“Well, if it isn’t two of my favorite people, the Baker sisters!” It’s showtime! Let’s see how fast I can push all of Macy Baker’s buttons. Here’s hoping for a nuclear explosion on her part.
She lets out a howl of delight, and before we know it, she’s accosting both Macy and me with an enthusiastic embrace.
Ember Sweet was one of Macy’s best friends way back in junior high. But they had a falling-out and things were never the same. Ember moved away from Cider Cove for a while, but now she’s back—looking staggeringly like my sister with her short blonde bob, not to mention the replica of my sister’s long established business.
Ember has a pretty face, full fuchsia lips and tiny turned up nose. And she happens to be wearing my sister’s signature black leather jacket, trendy jeans, and boots. The younger version of Ember Sweet that I remember had stringy brown hair, and there is definitely something off-putting about the way she seems to have crafted herself into my sister’s likeness. Obviously, something nefarious is going on here. Why else would she open up a shop directly across the street from my sister, with the exact same inventory more or less, and show up looking like a living replica?
Before my sister can get a single aggressive and rather salty word out—and believe me, Macy has an entire cache of salty words in her lexicon—a couple pops up next to us, and I don’t know whether to smile or frown at the two of them.
“Mayor Woods,” I say as I inspect my longtime nemesis. “Hux.” I pull my brother into a quick embrace.
“Bizzy.” Mackenzie offers an indifferent shrug my way.
Mackenzie Woods is basically my Ember Sweet.
Mack and I were good friends growing up—right up until she pushed me into
