“Well, guess what?” Clove said. “From now on, I’m going to be the one that’s right and you two are going to be the ones that are wrong. Get it?”
Thistle and I exchanged a wary glance.
“Got it?”
“Yeah, we got it,” Thistle replied.
Clove turned and stalked to the storeroom, pulling the curtain shut behind her as she did.
“Well, she’s in a snit,” Thistle said.
“She has a point,” I said. “We do kind of tell her what to do.”
“She needs direction,” Thistle countered.
“Maybe we should try being, I don’t know, nicer to her,” I suggested. “She seems a little frazzled lately.”
“Fine,” Thistle blew out a sigh. “When this blows up, though, and she gets crushed – again – I’m blaming you.”
“I would have it no other way.”
Fifteen
I was happy to leave a pouting Clove and a wallowing Thistle to their own devices and head to The Whistler for the rest of the afternoon. Unfortunately for me, when I got there, both Brian and Sam were wandering around the building and talking about their “grand” plans.
“Bay,” Brian greeted me when I walked in. “I was starting to wonder if you still worked here or not.”
Jerk.
“I’m sorry,” I apologized, although I put absolutely no truth behind my words. “I was actually out scouting a story for next week.”
“And what story would that be?” Sam asked curiously.
“A man named Dean Browning is moving to town,” I explained. “In addition to taking a part-time position at the docks, he’s also going to be refurbishing the Dandridge.”
“What’s the Dandridge?”
“It’s an old lighthouse that’s been abandoned for years,” I said. “He’s going to turn it into a haunted lighthouse attraction.”
“That’s cool,” Brian brightened. “That’s a whole other advertiser.”
“Yeah,” I agreed. “He seems really enthusiastic. He’s going to give me a tour next week. Clove, Thistle and I just ran out there to take a look around. I hadn’t been there in a long time, I had kind of forgotten about it. It’s going to be really nice when he gets it done.”
“You found a story all on your own,” Sam said enthusiastically. “That’s great.”
Could he be any more condescending?
“Yeah, Chief Terry brought him by Hypnotic,” I said blithely. “The story just kind of fell into my lap.”
“Hey, a source is a source,” Sam said.
“I have to make a quick call from my office,” Brian said suddenly, glancing at his watch. “Bay, will you keep Sam company while I’m on the phone? It shouldn’t take more that fifteen minutes.”
“Sure,” I smiled thinly. “It sounds like fun.”
It sounded like hell.
Once Brian was gone, Sam turned to me, plastering a friendly smile on his face. “So, you had a busy morning, I guess.”
He had no idea. “Not really. You never really have busy mornings in Hemlock Cove.” I was going for levity, but it came out a bit whiny.
“Well, hopefully that will change,” Sam said. “I think Hemlock Cove could be a tourist Mecca.”
“I don’t think you can use Mecca in the same sentence with Hemlock Cove and be realistic,” I admitted.
“I just don’t think you’re looking at the big picture,” Sam said. “That’s okay, you’re from a small town. You don’t see things the same way I see things.”
I was really starting to dislike him. “What is the big picture? And please use small words so my small-town brain doesn’t implode under the effort of understanding them.”
“This is a tourist destination and it keeps growing,” Sam said, ignoring my snarky comment. “We could really have something special here.”
“We?”
“Well, the town.”
“The town is run by a commission,” I reminded him. “You’re not the town.” The statement had come out a little harsher than I had meant for it to.
“You don’t like me, do you?” Sam asked the question bluntly, his gaze focused on me. There was a certain coldness to it.
Well, if we were telling truths . . .
“I don’t trust you,” I said honestly. “You swoop in here, with your condescending nature and these big proclamations but you have no way to make any of it work. You’re feeding Brian’s big dreams, even though you know they’re not even remotely feasible. I just haven’t figured out why.”
Sam looked like I had just hit him with a truck instead of verbally unloading on him. “Well, at least you’re honest,” he said finally. “Now, let me tell you what I know. I know that this town has a unique niche. There’s a lot of growth that can happen here, even if you don’t want to see the bigger picture.”
I opened my mouth to argue but Sam didn’t give me the chance.
“Since the moment I met you, you’ve had attitude with me,” Sam continued. “At first, I just thought you were leery around new people. That’s a weird trait for a journalist, but it’s been known to happen. Then I realized it’s just me you have a problem with. Me specifically. I want to know why?”
“I think you might be a little paranoid,” I said evasively.
“Okay, let me ask you something else then,” Sam said. “Why did you tell your Aunt Tillie what I said about the dementia?”
I smirked. “She deserved to know.”
“No, you told her to be vindictive,” Sam corrected me. “You told her to be mean.”
“See, that’s where you’re wrong, Sam,” I said. “You see my Aunt Tillie is the vindictive one. She’s been fixated on causing trouble for my father and uncles at their new inn. She wants them out of town and she doesn’t care how she does it. And, yes, I have a complicated relationship with the man, but he is my family and I’d like him to stay around a little longer. I told her what you said because I wanted to distract her from spying on the Dragonfly and I thought fixing her attention on Brian – Brian, not you – would be a good way to do it.”
Sam looked properly abashed. “I’m sorry, I thought . . .”
“I don’t care what you thought,” I snapped. “You need to realize that not everything is about you.”
“I said I was sorry.”
“What are you really doing here, Sam?” I asked suddenly.
“Excuse me?”
“What are you really doing here?”
“My job,” Sam narrowed his eyes in my direction. “I don’t have some big plan of Hemlock Cove domination, no matter what you think.”
“Then why don’t you focus on doing your job and leave my Aunt Tillie out of things,” I suggested. “Just stay way from her.”
“From what I’ve seen, your Aunt Tillie can take care of herself,” Sam said stiffly.
“I wasn’t warning you away from her because I was worried about her,” I replied. “If you want to take her on, you’ll deserve what you get.”
“What makes you think I want to have anything to do with your Aunt Tillie?”
“I don’t,” I said. “I do think you have more on your mind than just expanding The Whistler, though,” I said.
“And what would that be?” Sam was trying to pretend he was nonchalant, but my words had thrown him.
“I have no idea,” I admitted. “Just know that I know that you’re up to something. That’s enough for me for right now.”
“I’ll keep that in mind,” Sam said dryly.
“You do that.”
Sixteen
I headed straight for The Overlook when I left work that evening. Landon had texted me to tell me he would be there for dinner. I had no idea if he was mad about breakfast, but I figured I would find out the minute I saw him.
Thankfully, for me, Sam had wisely given me a wide berth the rest of the afternoon. If Brian sensed the tension, he didn’t say anything.
I let myself into the family quarters, finding only Aunt Tillie present. She
was watching a Modern Family rerun. “Why aren’t you watching Jeopardy?”
“It’s a rerun.”
“Does that matter?”
“I already know all the answers from that episode, there’s no need to watch it,” Aunt Tillie said from her new easy chair. My mom and aunts had bought it for her a few weeks ago, when she had finally agreed to let them throw away the old one she had been practically living in for two months in the kitchen. It had picked up a weird smell. Maybe the scorpion had died in it or something?
“You know all the answers?” I had my doubts.
“All the ones I care about.”
“Well, that’s good, I guess,” I sighed wearily and dropped onto the couch.
“What’s wrong with you?”
I was about to say nothing when, instead, I shifted gears. I unloaded three days of anger, frustration and worry into a three-minute diatribe and then sat back and watched Aunt Tillie process everything.
“I knew that Sam Cornell was bad news,” Aunt Tillie said.
“He’s the least of my worries,” I admitted. “What do I do about Erika?”
“What can you do?”
“What?”
“With the information you have, what can you do?” Aunt Tillie wasn’t being mean, she was genuinely curious.
“I’m going to tell Landon, after dinner tonight,” I said. “I need help.”
“Well, at least you admit it.”
“Admit what?”
“Everyone needs help, Bay,” Aunt Tillie said. “It took you a long time to be able to admit that. You and your cousins tend to close ranks around each other and try to solve every crisis yourselves. That’s not always possible.”
“So you think I should tell Landon?” I was surprised. Aunt Tillie’s usual mantra was that the only good law enforcement official was an absent one. Okay, she actually usually said the only good law enforcement official was a dead one – but I was cleaning it up for her so she didn’t looks o bad.
“Yes, you should tell Landon,” Aunt Tillie said. “The boy has more gumption than I initially gave him credit for. He took our secret and he kept it and he’s still around. He doesn’t look like he’s going anywhere. He might actually be able to help.”
“He’s going to be mad.”
“He’ll be fine,” Aunt Tillie said. “I don’t think you’re giving him enough credit. It’s not like the three of you have done anything especially dangerous.”
Not yet.
“I hope you’re right,” I said, glancing up at the wall clock. “We should probably get to dinner. We’re late.”
“They’ll live,” Aunt Tillie said. “I was really good today. I’ve built up some good will.”
“How were you really good?”
“I didn’t terrorize the contractors and I didn’t terrorize the guests, that’s a good day in my book,” Aunt Tillie said.
That was a good day.
We entered the dining room together, and I was relieved to find Landon already sitting at the table. I was surprised to see Chief Terry was also there, and he’d brought Dean Browning with him.
“There you are,” my mother chided. “What have the two of you been up to?”
“Nothing,” I protested.
“None of your business,” Aunt Tillie challenged her. “We were just talking. Is that a crime?”
“It depends on what you were talking about,” Landon said suspiciously, his eyes trained on my face.
“Family stuff,” Aunt Tillie shot back, slipping into her chair at the head of the table.
“What kind of family stuff?” My mom asked curiously. I couldn’t help but notice that Chief Terry was sandwiched between her and Marnie, both of whom were continuously patting his arm to get his attention fixed on them.
“What is this? The Spanish Inquisition?” Aunt Tillie barked. “Mind your own business.”
“See, now I know you’re up to something,” my mom frowned.
“We’re not up to anything,” I said, slipping into the seat next to Landon and fixing him with small smile. He didn’t return the gesture.
“I’m glad you showed up,” he said. “After breakfast, I wasn’t sure you were even still alive.”
I knew his words were meant to be facetious, but they cut to the quick. “I’m sorry,” I said honestly. “Something came up.”
“What?”
Chief Terry was watching our exchange with a mix of consternation and curiosity. My mom dragged his attention back to her, though, by sliding two huge slabs of meatloaf onto his plate.
I glanced down to the end of the table, where Sam and Brian were also watching me with a certain level of interest and shook my head. “You know, work stuff,” I said evasively.
Landon saw where my gaze had traveled and eased up. “Sorry,” he said stiffly. “I was just worried.”
“She’s a big girl, she can take care of herself,” Aunt Tillie said.
“I didn’t say she couldn’t,” Landon protested. “I was just worried.”
“Well, I’m sure Bay will tell you all about it later,” Aunt Tillie said evasively. “Now, where’s my food?”
“It’s right in front of you,” my mom said blandly.
“Well, good then,” Aunt Tillie sniffed. “Where’s my wine?”
“You don’t need any wine,” Marnie said.
“I want some wine.”
“Oh, just give her some wine,” Thistle groaned. “I like her better when she’s drunk.”
“You keep out of this,” Aunt Tillie pointed her gnarled finger at Thistle. “I’m not in the mood for any of your nonsense.”
“You tell her, Aunt Tillie,” Clove chimed in.
“You stay out of this, too,” Aunt Tillie said, but then she turned to Clove. “Why are you mad at her?”
Every set of eyes at the table turned to Clove, waiting for an answer. “She was just mean to me this afternoon.”
“She’s always mean to you. What happened today that was so different?”
“Nothing,” Clove muttered.
Aunt Tillie turned to me. “Why is Clove upset?”
I pinched the bridge of my nose tiredly. “How should I know?”
“The three of you were together this afternoon, checking out the lighthouse, something must have happened?”
“You went to the lighthouse?” Dean looked surprised.
“We just wanted to check it out,” I explained quickly. “We hadn’t seen it in so long. We think you’ve got a great idea for out there. There’s a lot of potential.”
Dean smiled. “Yeah, I think so, too.”
“He’s fixing up the Dandridge?” My mom asked.
“Yeah,” Dean replied. “I’m going to turn it into a haunted lighthouse.”
“That’s a great idea,” Twila enthused.
“It’s a great idea,” Chief Terry agreed. “I don’t think the three of you should have been traipsing around up there, though. What if one of you had fallen and gotten hurt? That place needs to be fixed up.”
“We’re obviously fine,” Thistle said.
“Clove’s not fine,” Aunt Tillie said. “She’s upset.”
Crap on toast. This was spiraling out of control. “We just teased her about Bigfoot a little bit and scared her and she’s mad,” I lied.
“Why would you do that?” My mom asked.
“It seemed like a good idea at the time,” I said lamely.
Aunt Tillie didn’t look like she believed me. She wisely let it go, though. “So, Brian, tell anyone else I have dementia today?”
Chief Terry sucked in a breath and glanced down at Brian. His face had gone red under Aunt Tillie’s sudden scrutiny. “I didn’t say you have dementia.”
“So Sam is lying?” Aunt Tillie turned her attention to Sam.
“No,” Sam said hurriedly. “I probably just misheard him.”
“Yeah,” Thistle said around a mouthful of potatoes. “He really said you’re demented. That’s different.”
“You�
��re full of yourself this evening, aren’t you?” Aunt Tillie turned back to Thistle.
Thistle swallowed, leveling her gaze on Aunt Tillie. “No. Just trying to lighten the mood.”
“It’s not working,” I said.
“I noticed.”
“This is an excellent meal, ladies,” Chief Terry said. “I do love your meatloaf.”
“Thank you, Terry,” my mom said warmly. “I made it just for you.”
“I made it,” Marnie countered.
“I made it,” Twila complained from her spot next to Dean.
“No, I made it,” Aunt Tillie said.
“You didn’t make it,” my mom turned on her.
“It’s my recipe.”
“But you didn’t make it.”
“So, Landon, what do you have going on at work?” Clove decided to change the subject again.
“Not much,” Landon said. “It’s been really slow these last couple of weeks, not that I’m complaining. I’ve just been working on a few cold cases.”
“Nothing big?”
“No.”
“Well, that gives you more time to focus on Bay,” Aunt Tillie said. “She better than any cold case any time of the week.”
“Okay,” Landon said uncomfortably.
I rubbed my forehead, trying to ward off the headache that was building. “Landon has a job, Aunt Tillie. There’s nothing wrong with doing it.”
“You’re his job, too.”
“Yeah,” Thistle chimed in again. “He should just do Bay.”
Landon’s face colored while Chief Terry coughed uncomfortably. Aunt Tillie fixed Thistle with a hard stare. “That did it!”
“What?” Thistle looked confused.
“It’s lesson time.”
The color drained from Thistle’s face. “No, it’s not.”
“Yes, it is.”
“What’s lesson time?” Sam asked curiously.
“You don’t want to know,” Clove said, smiling flirtatiously at him. “Trust me.”
“Stop that,” Aunt Tillie ordered.
“Stop what?” Clove asked, dumbfounded.
“Flirting with that man. I don’t like it.”
“I wasn’t flirting.” Clove blushed furiously.
“It looked like it to me,” Aunt Tillie said.
“Well, you’re old, your eyesight isn’t great,” Clove shot back, although I could tell she almost immediately regretted the words.
4 Witching On A Star Page 11
