![]() ![]() Taylor, the owner of the local craft and supply shop, looked the basket over carefully. ![]() “Muffin?” she asked the next woman in line. She’d bought it to look sophisticated and elegant. At least her sundress was lightweight, the material gauzy and playful against her skin. ![]() Telling herself that she was merely glistening, and hopefully looking luminous while she was at it, Tara amped up her smile and kept going. Perspiring wasn’t just undignified, it contradicted her never let ‘em see you sweat motto. Perspiration beaded on her skin, which really chapped her hide. The large basket was heavier than she’d anticipated, and the late afternoon June sun beat down on her head in tune to the Pacific’s thrashing waves beating the shore. “Muffin?” Tara asked as she walked along the long line of people waiting on the pier to enter Lucky Harbor’s summer festival. ![]()
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