Lock, Stock, and Feral

same wily disposition.
“What’s cookin’, good lookin’?” Georgie says as she gives my hair a quick tousle.
“You tell me,” I say.
Two Old Broads only consists of Mom, Georgie, and Juni. And judging by the fact two of the three employees is here, it’s safe to say they’ve left my mother to fend for herself.
“Let me guess,” I say. “You’re taking a lunch break?”
“You bet your little pink bottom,” Georgie says as Sherlock and Clyde make a reappearance. “Give me this little girl. Come here, Clyde. Meet your Bonnie.” She winks at the cute kitten as she excavates her from Sherlock’s back.
“Juni, I love your quilted tote,” I say, plucking at the cheery blue and pink floral fabric.
Two Old Broads is infamous for selling Georgie’s wonky quilts in every configuration. Georgie came up with the wonky idea last October. A wonky quilt is essentially a quilt with large triangular shapes and frayed edges that can be whipped up quickly—and whipping them up quickly is exactly what they’ve been doing. They’re not only selling them as traditional bed covering, they’ve turned these wonky quilts into tote bags, dresses, pet beds, pet blankets, curtains, and they’re working on a bridal line, too. It’s all been a rather natural progression. Considering the fact Georgie is an artist, none of this surprises me.
Right on their heels I spot my mother, giggling to herself while staring down at her phone. She’s dressed in a cornflower blue sundress and has a striped wide-brimmed hat over her head to shelter her from the sun.
I squint over at her, trying to make sense of this. “Considering the fact all three employees of Two Old Broads are front and center, I take it you closed down the shop for the day?”
“What?” Georgie spins and gags once she spots my mother. “Ree Baker! What are you doing? Who’s manning the store?”
“What?” Mom practically tosses her phone in the sand as she comes to. “How did I get here?” She glances around in fright. “I heard someone say lunch break and I just grabbed my phone and started chatting with Romero. Oh, I’d better get back before we’re robbed blind.” She speeds off toward Main Street and Juni chuckles.
“That’s a lady in love for ya,” Juni says.
“In love?” I balk. “Please. My mother has had a hardened heart toward men ever since my father spurned her. She’s not in love. She hardly believes in that four-letter word. Not romantically anyway.”
“You’re right,” Georgie says while waving at me with Clyde’s paw. “She believes in another four-letter word—lust. I saw the dude’s picture. He could be a cover model on every planet in the solar system. He’s got rock-hard abs and enough biceps to pick up all of Maine. Face it, your mother has a grade A beefcake on her hands.”
Juni grunts, “No wonder she’s losing her mind. The next thing you know, she’ll be losing her knickers.”
“Try grade A scammer,” I say. “My mother had better not lose her knickers. I don’t trust the guy.”
Juni nods. “Guess who else you shouldn’t trust?”
Georgie smacks her. “That was my line, kid.” She leans my way. “Did you happen to catch that latest Gossip Gal episode this morning?”
“Don’t tell me you actually watch Camila apply mascara while dishing on her so-called friends.”
“We don’t miss an episode,” Juni is quick to confess. “And don’t forget the yummy treats she eats while filming.”
Georgie groans. “She inhaled a box of fresh glazed donuts right in front of us and she wasn’t even sorry about it.” She pats her stomach as if she were the one who inhaled them. “You should have seen it, Biz. She talked all about last night’s book club bludgeoning.”
“Nobody was bludgeoned,” I say just below a whisper lest a guest or two pick up on the bloody conversation. It’s bad enough my poor inn is amassing a reputation without Camila’s help, but now that’s she’s pitching in, I have a feeling she’s about to catapult us to an infamous status. Before I know it, all the inn will be good for is Halloween TV specials and homicide hungry lookie-loos.
“Eh.” Juni shrugs. “I don’t think she could find a word that played off of book, and bludgeoning sounded pretty good.”
“Anyway”—Georgie tucks Clyde under her right armpit and it’s a disconcerting sight—“she mentioned that a certain homicide detective from Seaview was reigniting a relationship with an old flame—one that happened to be a hot commodity in Hollywood not that long ago. Sorry to hear it, Biz. I take it Hux will be handling the divorce.”
“What?” I squawk. “This is the first I’m hearing of a divorce.”
“Who’s getting a divorce?” a deep male voice calls from my left and I turn to see both my brother, Huxley, and his relatively new bride, Mackenzie Woods.
“Hey, Hux,” I say as he gives me a quick hug and both Fish and Sherlock a quick scratch between the ears. “Hello, Mayor Woods.” Even though Mackenzie has been my official sister-in-law for a couple of months now, I still prefer to call her by her formal and civic-minded moniker.
A million years ago Mackenzie and I used to be best friends right along with Emmie. But then she pushed me into a whiskey barrel full of water and held me under, thus sponsoring this mind-bending, mind-altering, mindreading ability of mine.
I may have had the telesensual tendencies in me since birth, but Mack’s foray into attempted homicide sealed the deal. She also made quick work of giving me a few phobias that fated day as well—to both large bodies of water and confined spaces. Suffice it to say, I don’t venture into that Atlantic bathtub very often beyond my big toe.
“How are you feeling?” I give Mackenzie the once-over. She’s as gorgeous as she is blunt with her long dark hair, almond-shaped eyes, and perennial glowing tan. Although today she looks a little pasty, her hair is a bit mussed, and she’s not wearing her typical power suit. Instead, she’s donned a sage empire waist dress,