Irene scrunched up her face and gave her usual beady-eyed look. “Okay now, Sarah, we’ll have none of that. Let’s go see the mercantile. Then I can get blubbery too.”
Grandma laughed. “Oh, Irene, I do love you.”
“I know.” Irene hugged her, and they made their way across the street.
Dunnigan’s Mercantile was still a gift shop, and Grandma wondered who was running it now. She looked around at the goods for sale and spied an older man behind the counter. He was middle-aged, short, pudgy and balding with a white Santa Claus beard and mustache.
He smiled at them. “Welcome to Dunnigan’s Mercantile.” His eyes landed on Irene and widened. “Bless my soul…”
“Uh-oh,” Grandma said.
The bell over the door rang, drawing the proprietor’s attention. “Goodness gracious, TJ, is that you?”
Grandma turned around in time to see the young man from earlier stride into the storefront. “Well, hello again.”
TJ smiled at them. “Mrs. Waller, Mrs. Dunnigan…”
“Waller, Dunnigan?” The proprietor almost choked on the names. He came around the counter and stared at them. “You know, I swear you two are the spitting image of Grandma Waller and Irene Dunnigan.”
“Yeah, we get that all the time,” Grandma said with a nervous laugh. “Don’t we, Irene?”
Irene gave a quick nod, then went to study an earring display.
The man’s jaw dropped. “Your name is Irene?”
“Dunnigan,” TJ volunteered. “They’re helping Tilly and Jack out at Pleasant Beans, Mr. Jensen.”
Mr. Jensen took a step back. “The resemblance is uncanny.”
“Yes, yes, we’ve heard it all before,” Grandma said with a calm that surprised her. “We’re both named after our ancestors, just like a lot of folks in this town.”
Mr. Jensen looked them up and down. “I don’t recall ever seeing you two in here.”
“We’ve been here plenty of times,” Irene said without turning around. “Maybe you just didn’t notice.”
Mr. Jensen scratched the back of his head. “I guess I didn’t. Well, you two are the spitting image of Mrs. Waller and Mrs. Dunnigan, some of the original settlers of the town. You should enter something in the parade.”
“What parade?” TJ asked, perusing a sock display.
“The Harvest Parade. It’s not real big, but it’s fun, and it goes through Old Town. It concludes Harvest Week.”
“Oh, that’s what my mother was talking about,” TJ said.
Grandma nodded, more than happy to change the subject. “Tilly mentioned it. She had things planned for Pleasant Beans. A movie night, things like that.”
“I’m sure she did,” Mr. Jensen said. “Everybody has things planned. We’re going to set up mystery merchandise out front. People can buy a sack of items for ten dollars. Who knows what’ll be in it?”
“What? You mean you’re just going to give things away like that?” Irene snapped, looking around the store.
“No, everything in the bag will be worth ten dollars. They just don’t know what it’ll be. It might be a comb and hairbrush and a pair of socks, or a bag full of jewelry and maybe a book. It might have goodies, like candy and cookies. It’ll be fun.”
“Sounds like fun,” TJ said. “So does movie night at the coffee shop.” He smiled at Grandma and Irene. “How, um, did things go after I left?” he hedged.
“We got everything cleaned up, if that’s what you mean,” Irene snapped. She crossed to the other side of the store and began looking at items.
“Don’t mind her,” Grandma said. “She gets a little cranky sometimes, but she means well.”
Mr. Jensen laughed. “Just like the old Mrs. Dunnigan. They have stories about her in a book about the town at the museum. In fact, I carry it here.” He walked to a display of books, pulled one off a rack, and handed it to Grandma.
