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Macy’s voice is audible from inside the shop even over the noise of the crowd and the music and Ella’s enthusiastic squealing.

“Auntie Maymay!” she cries at top volume.

I’m not sure when it happened, but my sister has become the rock star of soap and candles.

“This one attracts vampires,” Macy’s voice booms from inside. “It’s guaranteed or your money back!”

“Oh, good grief.” I shake my head at my mother. “I get the feeling if this crowd doesn’t get bitten by midnight, there will be heck to pay.”

Mom nods. “And Macy will be on the run to Canada before they bite her business in the rear.”

We push through the crowd, which parts reluctantly because nobody wants to lose their spot in line, and squeeze our way inside. No sooner are we ensconced by the four walls than I immediately regret every decision that led to this moment.

The shop is packed wall to wall with customers. Every available surface is covered in candles and soaps, Halloween decorations are hanging from the ceiling and tangled in the light fixtures, and Macy is behind the counter in full horror hostess costume—red velvet dress, dramatic makeup, fake fangs hanging from a chain around her neck—grinning like she just discovered the secret to becoming filthy rich. I’ll give you a hint: it involves empty promises regarding undead men with very sharp teeth.

Jordy is right there next to her bagging purchases as fast as humanly possible, and he looks equal parts overwhelmed and amused and possibly reconsidering his relationship choices. As he should.

A woman grabs three candles labeled “Merman Magnet” from a display, and Macy immediately swoops in.

“Excellent choice! You need another one of those. Mermen are commitment-phobic. They’re very slippery. Literally and figuratively.”

The woman laughs and adds a fourth candle to her pile.

Mom and I exchange a look while Georgie grabs a shopping basket and starts tossing in candles.

I scan the shop and spot the rest of Macy’s inventory spread across multiple tables. Vampire’s Delight in dark red jars. Werewolf Bait with pine needles scattered around the display. Ghost Whisperer in pale blue containers that actually glow in the dark. The Supernatural Threesome display is half-empty, which doesn’t surprise me at all given the panel last night. And there’s something called Coven Chaos with three wicks and a warning label that says “If the broom fits, ride it” in gothic script.

The soap section is equally questionably festive. Everything is wrapped in black tissue with orange ribbon, and the names include Seduce a Vampire, Werewolf Tamer, and Siren Song. There’s also a costume jewelry display that’s being ransacked by a group of women fighting over the last “Bite Me” necklace.

Ella is in absolute heaven. She’s clapping and laughing every time Macy’s voice goes off like a gong, which is constantly, and she keeps reaching for the shiny jewelry displays with her grabby little hands. One of the fake fang necklaces catches her eye, and she lunges for it so hard that Duchess has to brace herself against the side of the stroller to avoid getting launched.

Auntie Macy has lost her man-loving mind, Fish observes, watching Macy pitch a Zombie Attraction candle to zombie-hungry customers.

I think it’s ingenious, Duchess says. She’s identified an underserved demographic that attracts women who love paranormal men. That’s how empires are built.

Does she have one that attracts bacon, chicken, or beef? Sherlock asks with his nose twitching like mad. Meatballs maybe?

They’re candles, Sherlock, Fish yowls. Not magical dinner reservations.

I watch the register ring up sale after sale. Jordy struggles to keep up with the bagging while women walk out of the shop with armfuls of purchases and huge smiles on their faces.

“Macy is absolutely killing it,” I say.

Mom nods. “She’s either a business genius or a complete lunatic.”

“I’m going with both.”

Macy spots us and immediately pushes through the crowd, still holding a lit candle in each hand and somehow, thankfully, managing not to set anyone on fire.

“Welcome, ladies!” She crouches down to Ella’s level, and Ella shrieks with delight. “Hey, cutie pie! Auntie Macy is rolling in it now!”

“If by rolling in it you mean vampires, I’m in, sister.” Georgie wastes no time in hopping onto the fang-covered bandwagon.

“Not vampires,” Macy says. “Middle-aged women with disposable income. Way scarier.”

Mom shakes her head as she takes in the sight. “Macy Baker, you are selling false hope in a jar!”

“It’s not false hope,” Macy shoots back. “It’s aspirational aromatherapy.” She looks my way. “You should try it sometime. You’re looking a bit frazzled these days.” She sets down the candles on a display, and a woman snaps them up and runs to the nearest register. Have I mentioned they were lit?