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“I was starting to think of her as the "Goth Van Gogh" on a good day or "Vampira" on a bad one. She took a little getting used to.”
― Judith Fertig, The Cake Therapist

“Jett's artistic talent was as weighty and emphatic as the heavy black makeup she applied to her lips and eyelids.”
― Judith Fertig, The Memory of Lemon

“Let's not freak out here," Jett said, ever the diplomat in venom green nail polish and little skull earrings. "People aren't going to come until they've had their dinner. Pie is for dessert."
Maggie and I stood behind the counter, arms folded, and stared out the display window.
Jett shook her head. Leave it to her to be remarkably upbeat while the rest of us were uncharacteristically morose. "Maybe we should open up so that this wonderful pie aroma brings them in," she said brightly. She opened the door and used it to fan the pie air out onto the street.
And it worked.
Somebody walked in.”
― Judith Fertig, The Memory of Lemon

“Maggie and I were delighted. It was now Jett's turn to go to the dark side. "I've never seen such a bunch of doom cookies," she said, wiping down the tables.
"What?"
"Doom cookies. You know, people who pretend to be something they're not, like girls in my class who pretend to be bad-ass but go home and read The Little House on the Prairie in their Disney princess bedrooms."
"Who were the Pie Night people pretending to be? I don't quite follow."
"They're pretending to be bad-ass pie bakers," Jett trilled in a church-lady falsetto, " 'Oh, leaf lard is the best.' 'No, I swear by a mixture of Crisco and butter.' When was the last time they actually baked a pie? If they did, they wouldn't be gorging themselves here on Pie Night. They probably don't even own a rolling pin." Jett sniffed. And then she added, diplomatically, "But your pie was good.”
― Judith Fertig, The Memory of Lemon