“Well, I have civic duties to attend to,” she says, snapping right back into her mayoral role. “And I definitely have some damage control from those posts.” She looks at little Mack, who’s half-asleep on Hux’s shoulders. “Come on, boys. Let’s go home.Cane,” she shouts like a command and, sure enough, the fuzzy white pooch scurries his way over and trots alongside them as they head toward the parking lot.
I watch them go and think about the fact that Mackenzie Woods just thanked me for something.
The apocalypse must be near. Or maybe it’s happening now? Honestly, it’s hard to tell.
Mom appears with Georgie right behind her, both of them looking wind-blown and satisfied.
“Ben went to get us drinks from the buffet,” Mom says. “He’s been gone fifteen minutes. I think he got lost.”
“Told you,” Georgie says. “He’s got the internal navigation of a drunk pigeon!”
“Another case closed,” I say with a laugh.
“And you managed not to die this time!” Mom beams at me. “Now that’s progress.”
“Mom, I have never died,” I point out.
She nods. “And you better keep that streak going, missy.”
“I’m not thrilled I didn’t get invited to the take-down-a-killer party,” Georgie grumbles.
“Sorry, Georgie.” I wrinkle my nose her way. “But you were busy loading your purse with crab cakes.”
“That’s right, I was.” She gives a solemn nod my way. “Priorities, Bizzy. Priorities.”
Georgie pulls something from her massive purse—one of Macy’s infamous candles in a Mason jar, the label readingSeaside Serenityin curly script—and holds it up triumphantly.
“I’ve been thinking,” she says as she places her hand on the lid. “We should sell these stink bombs at Two Old Broads.” She starts to unscrew the top.
“NO!” Both Mom and I lunge for it like it’s a live grenade.
I grab Georgie’s wrist while Mom wrestles the jar out of her hands with bomb-squad speed and precision.
“Over my dead body,” Mom says, clutching the candle to her chest like it might still detonate. “Georgie, we are NOT opening this candle. Not here. Not ever.”
“It’s not that bad?—”
“It smells like spoiled mac and cheese and caramel,” I remind her. “That’s a biological weapon, not a product.”
Georgie pouts. “You two have no vision.”
“We have noses,” Mom corrects, carefully tucking the candle back into Georgie’s purse with the lid still sealed. “And a will to live.” She loops her arm through her bestie’s. “Come on. We should go find Ben before he ends up in Bar Harbor.”
They take off, Georgie stilltalking, and I’m left standing there wondering how my mother ended up in business with an eighty-something-year-old chaos agent.
Georgie’s brain works in mysterious ways,Fish says with a flick of her tail.Food. Chaos. More food.
That’s basically her whole personality,Sherlock notes.She’s like me but hooman!
Isn’t that the truth. So long as she doesn’t burn the inn down.
Fish nods.I guess when she says you’re her spirit animal, she’s not kidding.
No, she is definitely not,I muse.
Emmie and Leo come this way with Elliot, who’s completely unconscious on Leo’s shoulder, thumb in mouth, and far off into the land of Nod.
“What a summer,” Emmie says.
