4 Witching On A Star

by Amanda M. Lee

  “You’re going to feel really bad if Aunt Tillie is dying,” Clove sniffed.

  “She’s not dying,” my mom said quickly. “At least not today.”

  “Tomorrow?” Thistle asked hopefully.

  “Your cousin is right,” Twila chided. “You’re going to feel really bad one day when your Aunt Tillie really does pass to the great beyond and you remember all the horrible things you’ve said about her.”

  Thistle looked like she wanted to press the situation, but she wisely decided against it. “Fine. Aunt Tillie is a wonderful human being. She’s sunshine and light and blooming flowers. What about her is so important that you had to wake us up at the ass crack of dawn about?”

  “As you know,” my mom started, like she was giving a formal presentation to a bunch of stockholders. “We have decided to gift your Aunt Tillie with a greenhouse of her own choosing.”

  “Yeah, we were there when the announcement was made,” I replied blandly.

  My mom shot me her patented “shut your mouth” look and continued. “Unfortunately, with spring here, we’re just too busy to help her with the minutiae of planning,” she said.

  Wait a second.

  “So,” my mom plowed on. “We were thinking that we would put the three of you in charge of the project.”

  “Over my dead body!” Thistle exploded.

  My mom ignored her and turned to me. “Don’t you think that’s a good idea?”

  “Only if I get to use Thistle’s dead body as a shield,” I replied dryly.

  “Why us?” Clove whined.

  “We’re being punished,” Thistle grumbled.

  “You’re not being punished,” Marnie said. “It’s just that we’re so busy we don’t have time to give. We’ve got a big group of people coming to the inn in several days that we have to get ready for.”

  “And the grounds still need a lot of work from the winter,” Twila added. “They’re a mess.”

  “And we have a lot of spring cleaning that needs to be done,” my mom said quickly, averting her gaze from mine. “We’re just too busy. We run a business, and that takes a lot of work.”

  “We run a business, too,” Thistle reminded my mom. “Clove and I have a bunch of stuff we have to do ourselves to get ready for the season.”

  “Yes, but your stuff isn’t nearly as monumental as our stuff,” my mom replied.

  Thistle narrowed her eyes dangerously. “That seems a little presumptuous.”

  “What about Bay?” Clove interjected hastily. “She only has one edition of the paper to put out a week and she doesn’t have any extra work because it’s spring.”

  “Hey!”

  “Sorry,” Clove shot me an apologetic look – one that said she was sorry for throwing me under the bus, not for what she said.

  “We agree that Bay should be the point person,” my mom said. “She has more time and a good head for things like this.”

  “This is crap,” I complained. I knew the backhanded compliment was just a way to get me to crumble.

  “Bay is a great organizer,” Thistle said with faux enthusiasm. “Putting her in charge was a great idea. Good job.”

  I openly glared at her.

  “Bay is in charge,” my mom repeated. “You two are helping, though.”

  “But Bay is in charge,” Clove repeated carefully.

  “Yes,” my mom nodded. “However, if she needs your help, then you two are to help her. No complaints. No whining. Just do it.”

  “So, what you’re really saying, is that Bay is in charge?” Thistle looked like she was about ready to explode again.

  “That’s exactly what I’m saying,” my mom said succinctly and then straightened up. “Now you three get dressed. You get those lumps out of bed in the other rooms. You come up to the inn for breakfast. After that, Bay, the contractor should be here for a discussion and then we can get started.”

  “You’re only doing this to keep Aunt Tillie busy,” I said tiredly. “How come it looks like I’m the one that’s going to be busy?”

  “This is family,” Marnie said primly. “We all do our part.”

  “And what part are you doing?” Thistle challenged her.

  “We’re paying for it. You want to switch jobs?”

  Thistle turned to me and shrugged. “How bad could it be?”

  “Why do you keep asking that?” I grumbled. I had a feeling I knew exactly how bad it could be.

  FORTY-FIVE minutes later, the five of us were down at the inn and seated at the dining room table. I had filled Landon in on the big meeting and his response had been a loud bark of laughter and then twenty minutes of urging me to hurry up so we could get breakfast. My mom and aunts had won him over with their cooking – and he wasn’t even a little ashamed of it.

  “This is delicious,” Landon said, enthusiastically dipping his pancakes in a mountain of syrup. “You guys are seriously the best cooks ever.”

  My mom beamed at Landon. “You’re such a sweet boy. I can’t think of a sweeter boy. I’m so glad you’re dating my daughter.”

  Thistle leaned across the table and met Landon’s sparkling eyes with her decidedly darker ones. “She’s offering you candy, Landon. Don’t get in the car.”

  Landon shook his head and ignored Thistle. “So, this greenhouse is going to be a big deal, huh?”

  “It’s going to be beautiful,” Twila agreed. “Aunt Tillie is going to love it.”

  “Where is Aunt Tillie?” I asked worriedly.

  “She already ate her breakfast in the kitchen,” my mom said. “She’s upstairs gathering her stuff for the contractor. She’s very excited.”

  “What stuff?” I asked around a mouthful of pancake.

  “That’s attractive,” my mom chided me. “Swallow before you speak.”

  “Yeah, Bay,” Thistle said, shoving a huge forkful into her own mouth and then smiling at me widely.

  I swallowed exaggeratedly and then turned back to my mom. “What stuff is Aunt Tillie gathering?”

  “Her plans,” my mom shrugged.

  “What plans?”

  “I don’t know. I haven’t seen them.”

  “Why do I think this greenhouse is going to be bigger than the inn by the time she’s done?”

  “Because you’re a pessimist,” my mom said. “The contractor knows the budget. Your Aunt Tillie can’t deviate from that.”

  “Like that will stop her,” I muttered.

  “You’re in charge,” my mom reminded me.

  “Does Aunt Tillie know that?”

  “She does now,” my mom replied, glancing down at her plate evasively.

  Oh, great. “And how did she take it?”

  “She’s fine with it.”

  “Really?”

  “Are you calling me a liar?”

  “I’m calling you a big fat fibber,” I challenged her. “There’s no way Aunt Tillie is fine with me being in charge.”

  “You’ve got that right,” Aunt Tillie charged into the dining room. My mouth dropped open in surprise when I saw her. She was wearing work coveralls and a bright pink hardhat. “I’ve decided to make the best of the situation, though.”

  “Where did you get a hardhat?”

  “This old thing? I’ve had it for years,” Aunt Tillie said dismissively. “Are you done shoving food in your face? The contractor just pulled up outside.”

  Even I had to admit that her enthusiasm was kind of cute. “Just a second,” I sighed.

  Aunt Tillie was halfway back through the kitchen door when she stopped and turned back to me. “If you get all fat and dumpy – and that’s what’s going to happen if you keep eating like that – then Landon’s not going to want to stay with you.”

  She wasn’t so cute anymore. I glanced over at Landon and saw him smiling as he continued to eat. “You think that’s funny?”

  “I think this whole family is funny.”

  “Give it time,” Thistle grumbled. “By the time this construction project is in full swing,
we’re going to be downright hilarious.”

  “I can’t wait,” Landon replied with an impish grin and a small wink.

  I could.

  Seven

  An extremely long two hours later, I found myself happy to be away from Aunt Tillie and at The Whistler. When my mom had said that Aunt Tillie had plans – she wasn’t kidding. She had drawn up her own blueprints – which had tickled the contractor to no end. When Aunt Tillie was out of earshot, he said he would take her plans home – work on them – and come up with something that was actually feasible. Since I knew absolutely nothing about construction, I decided to leave him to his work.

  Once I got to The Whistler, I was busily working my way through a schedule of spring events that had been provided by area businesses when Edith popped into view.

  “He’s on the phone again.”

  I knew whom she was talking about, but I decided to play the game anyway. “Who?”

  “Brian.”

  “Oh, yeah? What’s he talking about?”

  “He says he’s going to expand The Whistler.”

  “I know,” I frowned. “I don’t think he realizes that his plan isn’t really . . . feasible.”

  “You don’t think expanding the paper is a good idea?” Edith seemed surprised. “I would think you would jump at that.”

  “I don’t think that Hemlock Cove can sustain more than a weekly edition,” I said. “We’re talking about ten thousand people in the immediate area – and most of the locals don’t give a fig about the paper. It’s mostly for the tourists.”

  Edith considered what I said. “You’re probably right. Still, though, it could be exciting?”

  “Not if he overextends himself and runs the paper into bankruptcy,” I replied.

  “Well, that’s definitely true,” Edith said. “Why aren’t you trying to talk to him?”

  “He doesn’t want to hear what I have to say,” I said blithely. “I figure he’ll bring in a professional numbers guy and when that guy tells him it’s a bad idea, he’ll listen and I won’t be the bad guy.”

  “Well, he’s been on the phone since he got here – hours before you, I might add – and he’s like a kid on Christmas morning he’s so excited.”

  Come to think of it, Brian hadn’t been at breakfast this morning. He was currently the only lodger at The Overlook until the spring guests started making their presence known, so his absence should have jumped out at me. Since he and Landon generally loathed each other on sight – I had just been relieved to have a relatively peaceful meal.

  “Well, hopefully he’ll come back to Earth soon,” I sighed. “I can’t deal with anymore grand plans.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  I told Edith – who had known Aunt Tillie when she was still alive – about the big greenhouse construction. When I was done, she shook her ghostly head back and forth. “Your family really coddles her too much.”

  Let’s just say Edith hadn’t liked Aunt Tillie in life anymore than she did now in death. I had a feeling they had been something like rivals for my late Uncle Calvin’s affections – with Aunt Tillie obviously winning – but neither one of them would speak expansively on the subject.

  “It’s not about coddling,” I said. “It’s about distracting her. She’s obsessed with spying on my dad and uncles at the new inn. We’re just trying to keep her out of trouble – or, just keep the trouble localized, I guess.”

  “How is the new inn?”

  “It’s nice,” I said. “It’s still uncomfortable for everyone involved. I’m not sure how to fix the situation.”

  “Do you want to fix the situation?” Edith asked curiously.

  “Sure,” I shrugged. “Everyone wants their family to get along. I’m not sure that will ever be totally possible with Aunt Tillie around, though. I don’t think there are any grand family picnics in my future.”

  “Well, she can’t live forever,” Edith said brightly.

  “That’s not what Thistle says.”

  I went back to my work after that, burning a few hours without even realizing it. I looked up when there was a knock on my door. Brian was there – and he wasn’t alone. He had another man with him.

  “Bay, are you busy?”

  “No,” I stood up and moved around to the other side of my desk. “What’s up?”

  “This is Sam Cornell,” Brian introduced the stranger.

  I plastered a smile on my face and extended my hand to the man. “Nice to meet you.”

  “Sam is a financial expert from the Detroit area,” Brian said excitedly. “He’s going to put together a plan for us to expand The Whistler.”

  Oh, goody. “Well, coming to Hemlock Cove must be a shock for you,” I said amiably. “Coming from the big city and all.”

  “It’s definitely different,” Sam laughed, running a hand through his brown hair. Up close, he was an attractive man. His face was all high angles and his dark eyes were piercing. I guessed he was in his early thirties, and he was dressed up – at least for Hemlock Cove – in black pants and a blue button down shirt. “I’m not used to all the quiet.”

  “Yeah,” I nodded. “Living in the city, you don’t realize all the ambient noise you absorb.”

  “You lived in the city?”

  “I was down in the Detroit area for a few years after college,” I replied.

  “And you gave it all up for this?” Sam looked dubious.

  “My family is here,” I replied simply. “Sometimes, you just want to come home.”

  “Well, this is a beautiful home to come back to,” Sam said, although there was a certain edge to his tone that I couldn’t quite identify.

  “It is.”

  “I thought we could talk a little,” Brian interjected. “Sam wants to get to know you and get your thoughts on the expansion.”

  “Uh, sure.”

  I sat back down at my desk and waited until Brian and Sam got situated in the two chairs on the other side of it. I wasn’t surprised to see Edith pop back in. She was nosy by nature.

  What did surprise me is that I could have sworn that Sam reacted to her arrival by turning in her direction. He focused his eyes back on me, though, after a quick moment and I realized that he must have just been checking out my office. That had to be it, right?

  “So, what do you want to know?”

  “I was just curious if you thought expanding to three days a week was a good idea?” Sam asked the big question right out of the gate.

  “I don’t know,” I hedged, glancing at Brian. “I think that expanding the paper is going to be a difficult process.” I was trying to be diplomatic.

  “How so?”

  I blew out a sigh. There really was no way around this. “This is a small area, Mr. Cornell.”

  “Please, call me Sam.”

  “Sam,” I continued. “Even if we had unprecedented growth, which is possible down the road, we still won’t get enough people to warrant the expansion of the paper, in my opinion.”

  “So you don’t think that this is a good idea?” Sam was blunt, which I respected.

  “That’s not what she’s saying,” Brian interjected hurriedly.

  “No offense, Mr. Kelly,” Sam turned to him carefully. “But you don’t handle the news side of the business and Ms. Winchester does. I really need to hear her thoughts – and I need to hear her honest thoughts. That’s going to help me come up with the right plan.”

  Brian looked properly chastised as Sam turned back to me. “Please continue.”

  “This is a very small town,” I explained. “The people that actually live in town only amount to about seven thousand. Then you have the outlying district. There’s about another three thousand in the twenty miles in any direction. I don’t see how that translates to a lot of news.”

  “No,” Sam looked serious.

  I glanced up at Edith, who was watching the two men closely. I had no idea what she was thinking, and it wasn’t like I could ask her.

  “T
here’s also not a lot of actual news here,” I continued.

  “Try none,” Edith snorted.

  I ignored her. “There’s just very little news to fill the editorial hole three times a week. I struggle to fill it – and I mostly use fluff – one day a week.”

  “There has been an increase in crime in the area,” Brian said desperately.

  Sam looked interested. “How so?”

  “Last fall there were two bodies found in a cornfield. Then, a month later, there was another body found in the middle of town. The man who is believed to have did that murder is still on the loose.”

  “He’s not on the loose,” Edith scoffed. “Your Aunt Tillie incinerated him.”

  Now, this time I’m almost positive, Sam’s ears twitched at the sound of Edith’s voice. He didn’t turn in her direction, though. He kept his gaze focused on Brian.

  “And then, just this past winter, there was a crazed drug dealer on the loose,” Brian finished up excitedly.

  Sam turned to me, his dark eyes unreadable. “That sounds like exciting stuff.”

  “Yes,” I agreed. “It was. However, we can’t keep hoping that crime finds a way to Hemlock Cove three times a week. Those were all . . . flukes. Sure, there’s going to be some level of crime from time to time, but it’s been quiet for months.”

  “Once the tourists get here, though, that will change,” Brian said defensively.

  “You don’t know that,” I challenged.

  “Ms. Winchester – may I call you Bay – is right,” Sam plowed on. “You can’t count on anything like that.”

  I raised my eyebrows in Brian’s direction. Of course I was right.

  “That doesn’t mean that we can’t come up with alternative news copy ideas,” Sam continued.

  “See,” Brian said triumphantly.

  “What are you working on this week?” Sam asked curiously.

  “A list of all the spring activities planned by the area businesses,” I replied blandly.

  “Really?” Sam looked surprised. “That’s it?”

  “You have other suggestions?” He was starting to bug me.

  “I noticed you have two new businesses in town, why not do stories on those?” Sam didn’t seem to notice that I was starting to get aggravated with him.