CHAPTER 15
T he hustle and bustle of the holidays is well underway here at the Crafters Warehouse down by the marina, and it seems a little bit of thievery is well underway, too.
I head in the direction of the melee ensuing, to the booth with a large sign over the top of it that reads Two Old Broads . The name never fails to draw a chuckle from just about anyone, and I can’t help but grin as I make my way over.
Two Old Broads happens to be the name of the shop that my mother and Georgie run on Main Street. They sell a mishmash of this and that, but the primary staple they’re famous for is their wonky quilts.
Wonky quilts are made from strips of fabric cut into all sorts of crazy shapes and then stitched together as wonky as can be, and they’re just as adorable as can be, too.
Even though they outsource to have the quilts made locally, Mom and Georgie are the chief designers and they always have fun seasonal prints on hand. Right now, I can see a handful of quilts set out, each with pumpkins, fall leaves, and turkey prints all over them. A couple of them are made with strips of a fancy fabric that looks as if it’s embellished with gold.
The back side of their quilts is constructed from one large piece of cozy, soft flannel. And that’s my favorite part because I love to snuggle up with them at night.
My fur friends and I head their way, and the closer we get, we see a tall brunette going at it with them—with Georgie in particular.
In fact, both Georgie and the woman seem to be locked in a tug-of-war over a festive fall quilt that I wouldn’t mind seeing on my bed this time of year.
“How dare you call me a thief,” the woman snaps, still very much tugging the oversized quilt in her direction. “I’m trying to work out a deal.”
“A deal?” Georgie squawks. “More like a steal .”
“Look, I’m on a tight budget here,” the woman protests. “I’m just hoping for a little discount.”
Georgie raises a brow. “Hmm, let me think. How about I throw in a free needle and thread so you can sew your own quilt? That way, you can save even more money!”
Mom chuckles in the background, and I can’t help but do the same.
“Twenty dollars,” the woman says sharply.
“Forty,” Georgie bullets back. “And that’s a fifty percent discount. These wonky beauties are eighty bucks apiece back at our shop.”
“Eighty dollars?” the woman balks.
“Take it or leave it, Toots.” Georgie doesn’t miss a beat. “It would cost you more if you went to buy the scraps needed to make these cozy wonders. They’re a steal at eighty-five. What do you say? Ninety dollars out the door and I’ll throw in a scarf.” She reaches over and plucks the scarf right off of my mother’s neck.
“ Hey ,” Mom grouses.
But the woman doesn’t seem interested in my mother’s accessories.
“Fine,” she bites the air as she says it. “I’ll give you forty-five dollars, but that’s my final offer.”
I don’t know how she does it. Mom shakes her head at Georgie. Honestly, it’s five dollars more than she was willing to sell it for a few minutes ago.
“I’ll give you fifty for it,” I shout as I step in close and both Georgie and the brunette look at me with horror. “What can I say? I’m in the holiday spirit. And I suddenly have a craving for a fall-themed wonky quilt.” This one in particular, now that I’m close enough to see all the cute little turkeys printed all over it.
The brunette quickly digs a bill out of her purse.
“Fifty dollars, take it or leave it,” she sniffs.
Georgie snatches the money from her and the woman stalks off as if she just committed a bank heist—with my quilt no less.
“Well done,” I say, offering up a spontaneous applause even though I’m out one very cozy quilt.
“Thanks to you,” Mom says. “Nice move, Bizzy.”
“We make a good team,” Georgie says, waving the fifty in the air before stuffing it into her bra.
Mom flicks her fingers and Georgie quickly produces it and hands it over.
“You should come around more often,” Mom tells me. “I bet I can sell out in an hour with you here.”
“How are sales without me?”
“It’s going well enough.” Mom sighs at the quilts fanned out on the display table. “We’ve only got five more quilts left. We started with six and we just sold one, so it’s not going too bad.” She cranes her neck at the tote bag hanging off my shoulder. “Is that my granddaughter that I see? Give me that sweet cat.”
She comes over and scoops Fish right out of my bag before giving the three pooches a quick pat as well.
“Hey, hey, the gang’s all here,” she sings. “Come on back here and I’ll give you a tour.” She quickly grabs their leashes, and every last one of them happily follows her behind the counter.
“Any sign of Claudia and Vera?” I ask and both Mom and Georgie exchange a dark look. “What? What’s going on?”