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geometric patterns.” She stared at one of her sister’s quilts in a rather bemused way. “And Savannah is really so much quirkier than that.”
    The sisters both were, really. But what chance did you have for not being quirky when your mother had named you and your twin Savannah and Georgia? Savannah, also, had an unfortunate problem with kleptomania. All the Dappled Hills store owners knew about it and kept a special, running, Savannah account that Georgia paid up each month. Quirky didn’t quite go far enough.
    Meadow bustled up in time to overhear Georgia mentioning her sister’s quilts. “Your quilts are both beautiful, Georgia, just in different ways!”
    “And you like Karen’s quilt?” asked Georgia, nodding at the quilt.
    Meadow beamed at the quilt. “I do! I do like it! It’s modern and cool and sophisticated.” She dropped her booming voice to what passed for a whisper for another. “But I’m glad I didn’t invite Karen to be the new Village Quilters member if her quilts create division in the group! Much better to have someone like Jo.”
    Typical Meadow. She was either in happy denial of the friction Jo was creating in the group or else determined to ignore it.
    “Speaking of our new member,” continued Meadow, “where is Jo?”
    “Probably kicking puppies or pinching babies,” said Beatrice. Georgia gave a gasping laugh.
    True to form, Meadow ignored this, too. “Judges of these events are incredibly busy, aren’t they? So much to see, so many elements to judge each entry on. Mercy!”
    This last was in response to a crashing boom of thunder outside the recreation center’s window, followed by the sound of pouring rain.
    Beatrice noticed the plate of brownies and fudge that Meadow was clutching. “Were you doing something with that?”
    Meadow stared blankly down. “What? This? Yes . . . Oh, that’s right. I was looking for the mayor. I figured, since we were trying to woo him, goodies might help. The quickest way to a man’s heart and all that. Really, though, I probably should be pointing him toward Opal’s cake. I think I saw her toting one in.”
    Beatrice glanced over Meadow shoulder. “You’re in luck,” Beatrice said drily. “Here he is.”
    A big smile stretched across Meadow’s broad face as she caught sight of the mayor. “Hi, Mayor,” said Meadow in the chirpy voice. “I thought while you are viewing this beautiful art here that you might enjoy some snacks.”
    Booth Grayson didn’t appear to be enjoying himself. His clothes were sopping wet. He had a rather dour expression on his face. He was uncomfortable, he was bored, and Beatrice hoped that he would not take it out on the Village Quilters or quilting in general.
    “No, thank you, Meadow. I had a large bowl of oatmeal before I came over. The quilts are . . . very nice. I’ve got to be leaving, though, because I’ve got some important business to take care of at the office.” He took a precisely folded handkerchief out of his suit pocket and carefully dabbed at the raindrops on his clothes. “Maybe Posy can drive me back home in a few minutes. She was good enough to bring me here this morning since I wasn’t sure of the location.”
    Meadow’s face fell. “But that’s no fun at all! I don’t think you’ve even seen all the quilts we have here. Besides, that’s a lot of driving for Posy, considering that I’m sure Miss Sissy isn’t ready to leave yet. And I know Posy must have brought Miss Sissy with her, too. She’d have to drop you off and come all the way back.”
    This thought didn’t appear to bother the mayor in the slightest.
    “Have you really experienced this show? There are tons of different styles. Karen has some really modern themes, Savannah has classic geometric patterns, and Georgia’s quilts make you want to take the quilt off the wall, wrap yourself up in it, and watch some mind-numbing reality TV.”
    Booth’s eyes narrowed. “I’m sure that’s true, Meadow, but I’ve