A Christmas to Dismember by Addison Moore (best desktop ebook reader TXT) 📕

Macy clears her throat. “How quickly you forget I had to put out a hit on the last girl who opened a candle shop here just last month.”

“Not funny.” I groan. “In fact, don’t even think about repeating those words outside these doors. The people of this town are going to hate you.”

“They’re going to fear me,” she corrects with a saccharin smile. “But I’m open to hate, too. I’ve never felt the need for people to like me. Unlike you, Bizzy.”

“I don’t need anyone to like me either.” Okay, so maybe I do, but just a little. “And you did not put a hit out on anyone. The poor thing was murdered. Besides, her killer is behind bars, and this shop is about to take on new life with whatever Mom and Georgie have planned.”

Mom scoffs as she looks over at Georgie. “What do we have planned? I have to order the signage this afternoon if we want to have that grand opening in a week. We need a name for this place, and we need it fast.”

“I’ve got one,” Macy says as she sets Rudolph down and he runs a spastic lap around the shop, barking and jumping with all the joy a puppy can muster. “How about Hags R Us?”

Georgie frowns over at her. “Don’t make me wave the special finger at you.”

Rudolph runs over to her. Does the special finger have bacon? Wave the special finger at me, Georgie! Wave it! Wave it!

She digs into her pocket and tosses him a handful of crispy pork fat, and all is well in puppy land.

“No hags.” Mom blows out a breath. “We need something serious. Something that makes people want to do business with us.”

“Serious?” Macy grunts as Rudolph kicks a piece of bacon near her leather boots. “How about Lady and the Tramp?”

Mom gives a husky laugh. “Hear that, Georgie? She just called you a tramp.” She winks my way when she says it.

Georgie waves her off. “Everyone knows the tramps are much more fun. How about Good Time Granny and Buzzkill Betty? We can make a game of it and let the customers guess which is which.”

Macy chortles. “The reason you can’t decide on a name is because you don’t have a focus. Look at all this junk. You’ve got quilts, dresses made from quilts, candles—which you probably stole from me. What’s next? Sandwiches?”

“Sandwiches!” Georgie snaps her fingers and dances as if she just scored the winning touchdown at the Super Bowl. “I vote for hot pastrami.”

Mom rolls her eyes. “Do you see what I’m up against?”

I head over and grab one of the wonky quilt dresses Georgie is laying out over a glossy wooden table.

“These are kind of fun,” I say, holding it up on front of me. It’s primarily comprised of green and white gingham fabric with a few prints of Santa on a snowy roof and a few reindeer in the mix. “I can wear it around the cottage.”

“Oh, Bizzy.” Macy looks visibly ill as she inspects me with it against my body. “I had no idea you were already looking to get out of that booby trap of a marriage you landed in.”

“Funny,” I say as I frown over at her.

“She’s right.” Mom tosses her hands in the air. “Wear that around the house and Jasper will divorce you in a week.”

“Mother, he would not. Jasper wouldn’t care if I walked around in a garbage bag.”

“You’re getting close,” Macy mutters.

Georgie snaps her fingers. “Then that’s how we’ll market them. Want to give the old man his walking papers? Parade around in this beauty, and you’ll have full control of the remote and your finances within a week. Guaranteed or your money back.”

Mom groans ten times harder than before—right before she straightens with a jolt.

“Wait a minute!” She tips her head toward Georgie. “I think you may be onto something. We should have a silly sales magnet that offers women of a certain age something they need. Something to make them feel powerful and independent like they don’t need a man.”

Macy lifts her chin. “Just for the record, I call dibs on battery-operated boyfriends.”

“What?” Mom balks as she waves her off. “No. I don’t mean that. And you shouldn’t either.” She wags a finger at her oldest daughter. “I think we should sell things that speak to the soul of the more mature woman.”

“Like Tom Selleck?” Georgie picks up Rudolph as she steps our way.

“No.” Mom squeezes her eyes shut with exasperation. “Not like Tom Selleck. Like something you want to cuddle up with by the fire.”

Georgie nods. “Tom Selleck.”

“Mom”—I shrug over at her—“I hate to point out the obvious, but that’s what you’ve got the quilts for. How about marketing the store as something in keeping with the theme? You can call it something like Cozy Corner, or Me Time, or Get Bundled.”

Mom gasps. “That’s great! And we can have a monthly book selection to go along with it. In fact, we can have a book club.”

“Oh!” Georgie raises her hand. “We can sell those pinecones that turn colors when you toss them into the fire, and tea, coffee, and some of that peppermint bark from the Cottage Café.”

Mom taps a finger to her temple. “Now you’re thinking.”

“And kaftans!” Georgie plucks a red kaftan out of a box and waves it like a harbinger of hostile things to come—namely tie-dye kaftans. “Bizzy, you put on one of these around the house and you’ll have Jasper for life.”

Macy squints over at her. “How do you figure?”

“Easy access,” Georgie says without missing a beat. “Come to think of it, same with the wonky quilt dress. Now there’s a feature worth highlighting.”

My phone buzzes in my hand before I can respond to her, and it’s a text from the man I’m looking to give easy access to himself, Jasper.

Just got home. Picked up dinner. Bad news. It looks as if someone stole our credit card and spent over 1K this afternoon. Don’t