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“That.”
    “Crap.” Skye hadn’t expected Pru to rally her troops so soon, but a small group of women holding protest signs was marching in a circle in front of the store’s entrance.
    “Get a load of Pru’s Crew,” Trixie hissed.
    “Yeah, but where’s their leader?” Skye asked.
    As Trixie lifted her hands in puzzlement, one of the women thrust a leaflet into it. “Have you found Jesus Christ?” The picketer was a young blonde with long straight hair held back with a cornflower blue headband.
    “Yes.” Trixie crumpled the flyer and deliberately dropped it on the ground. “He was behind the sofa the whole time.”
    “If you’re a good Christian, you won’t go in,” the blonde persisted.
    Skye gripped her friend’s arm, not sure what Trixie would do, but before she could say anything, an older woman with snow-white hair and a face that looked like a dried apple joined the first and said, “Now, dearies, just turn around and go home. I’m sure sweet girls like you have no idea this place is a den of iniquity.”
    “The hell we don’t.” Trixie narrowed her eyes. “Censorship is the real evil.”
    While Trixie was arguing with the protesters, Skye read the various protest signs. ROMANCES ROT YOUR BRAIN. SCIENCE FICTION IS THE WORK OF THE DEVIL. DO YOU WANT YOUR DAUGHTER READING PORN? STICK TO JANE AUSTEN AND JULES VERNE.
    Skye didn’t catch what was said, but suddenly the Alice in Wonderland look-alike slapped Trixie in the face.
    “That was assault!” Skye moved in front of her friend. “Which means if all of you don’t get out of our way, I’m calling the police.”
    “Just try it!” Alice screamed.
    The protesters linked arms and chanted, “No cash for this trash.”
    The picketers formed a circle around Skye and Trixie when they attempted to walk into the store. Skye blew out an irritated breath, then grabbed her cell phone from her purse, but before she could dial, two of the male demonstrators pinned her arms to her sides. Trixie seized the waist of one of the men, but another guy took hold of Trixie’s shoulders.
    Just as Skye was wondering if they would end up forming the world’s record for a human chain, a long-legged, middle-aged redhead whom Skye knew all too well, dressed in hot pink capris, a matching spandex halter, and stilettos, barreled into the fray. She wielded her huge magenta pocketbook like a giant flyswatter, whacking protesters aside as if they were mosquitoes. A sturdily built teenage girl wearing cropped camo cargo pants, a white T-shirt, and flip-flops was right behind her swinging a backpack with the same precision.
    “How can you do this?” the dried-apple-faced woman sobbed as the demonstrators scattered. “Aren’t you concerned about the morals of your community?”
    “I used to care about stuff like that,” the redhead said, raising a perfectly plucked brow, “but I take a pill for that now.”
    Once Skye had stopped laughing, she thanked her rescuers, then turned to the redhead. “Bunny, what are you doing here?”
    Bunny Reid, aka Skye’s ex-boyfriend’s mother, was a former Las Vegas dancer with a penchant for clothes from Victoria’s Secret and men who broke her heart. She was the last person Skye would have expected to see at a bookstore.
    Bunny enveloped her in an Obsession-scented hug. “Frannie talked me into it.” Bunny was the manager of the local bowling alley, which her son owned and where Frannie Ryan, the teenager with the backpack, worked part-time. “She’s got me hooked on those Harlequin romances. Those hot ones are better than a copy of Playgirl magazine.” Bunny winked. “When I finish one of those I just want to find some stud and say, ‘Squeeze me like a grape and make me wine.’”
    “Do you like those, Frannie?” Frannie was one of Skye’s favorite former students. They were extremely close, and Skye was surprised the teen hadn’t mentioned her plans to attend the Tales and Treats grand opening.
    “No.”