Magic, I tell you, Magic.
Unfolds all the time here
A woman walks in, new arrival from Michigan, fingering pottery and appreciating front window display. Three more women enter, from Chicago. Soon, the four are comparing notes, realizing they grew up within ten miles of each other. A little later, one customer (who just happens to be buying lots of my gemstone jewelry!) hears me say I spent college summers working at Camp Algonquin outside Chicago. She knows the place, googles it while I’m running credit cards, and has all the latest info on the recent closing of this one hundred year old social work camp.
Shuga’s bff, Denise, comes in to buy a card and eight Rita Baldwin cards later, gives kisses and leaves.
The phone is ringing. Spring at Chicken Bridge by Rita Baldwin
On a Monday
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