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her sixties, her hair perfectly coiffed, her makeup divine, dropped a quilt square onto the battered counter.
    â€œAshamed? Whatever for?”
    â€œI’m losin’ my business. It’s been in the family for just shy of seventy years. Tilly Sorenson, my grandma on my mother’s side, opened this shop with her dowry money. My mama worked here as a little girl, then took over for Grandma.” She picked up a framed black-and-white photo of the women from the counter. “I’ve let them down.”
    Her eyes glistened with unshed tears behind bright purple reading glasses that perched on her nose. Her ankle-length caftan matched the glasses perfectly.
    Jenni Beth’s heart went out to the shopkeeper. Regret and worry sat heavy on her. Could Cole be right? Was this what she was setting herself up for? No. She’d never failed to meet a goal she’d set, and she wasn’t about to start now.
    Magnolia Brides would be a success.
    â€œThere’s no way to save the shop?”
    â€œNone that I can think of.”
    Yapping sounded from the back room, and Darlene opened the door to it. Moonshine and Mint Julep, Darlene’s rambunctious Cairn Terriers, peeked around the edge. Seeing Jenni Beth, they skittered out to greet her.
    Moonshine sported a purple and green knitted cap, while Mint Julep wore a jaunty bow of the same colors.
    â€œWe match,” Darlene said as Jenni Beth knelt to scratch the dogs’ ears.
    â€œI noticed.” She smiled. Everybody in town knew these dogs had more clothes and accessories than any other dogs in the state of Georgia. And regardless of Darlene’s outfit, the dogs would be dressed in coordinating colors.
    One more thing to love about the South. Crazy aunts—and storekeepers—weren’t hidden away but, rather, flaunted proudly.
    While Darlene broke a cookie into tiny bites for her fur-babies, Jenni Beth hiked herself onto the edge of the high window ledge. Behind her, sampler quilts in all colors of the rainbow vied with the pink and purple silk azaleas on display.
    When Darlene waved to someone outside, Jenni Beth turned her head.
    Cole, the weasel, waved back.
    Oh, jeez. Her chin dropped to her chest. She couldn’t catch a break.
    Brazen as a boardinghouse cat, he stuck his head in the door. “Hey, Ms. Darlene. Moonshine, Mint Julep.” He knelt to pat the dogs. “I’m doin’ a little window-shoppin’. How much for the new mannequin?”
    Darlene frowned, and then chuckled.
    Jenni Beth stepped down onto the floor. “Ha-ha. Very funny.”
    â€œCan we talk?” he asked.
    â€œNot today, Cole.” She couldn’t. She was too vulnerable for another sparring match. “I have things to do.”
    He didn’t back down. “Nothin’ as important as this.”
    Why wouldn’t he go away? “Sure I do. I have to paint my nails, wash my hair—”
    â€œLook, I’m sorry for that comment this mornin’. We both know you work like a dog when you have to. No offense,” he said to the terriers.
    Jenni Beth turned her head one way, then the other, and put a hand up to her ear. “Is someone else besides the three of us in the store, Darlene?”
    â€œNope. Except for my babies.” She fed the dogs another piece of cookie.
    â€œDid I really just hear an I’m sorry from Cole Bryson?”
    His jaw set stubbornly. “Fine. I thought maybe I could save you from makin’ a fool of yourself. Guess I was wrong. Excuse me, ladies.”
    With a tip of his ball cap, he slammed out the door and stormed off down the street.
    Darlene gave a soft little whistle. “What on earth has gotten into him? I don’t think I’ve ever seen Cole in a temper like that.”
    Wide-eyed, Jenni Beth stared at his disappearing backside. Neither had she. Out of sorts? Sarcastic? Goading? Yes. But this went beyond a simple sulk. Did he really have something