Actually, the week felt endless. This wasn’t right, though. I couldn’t possibly have slept for eighteen hours. “I don’t understand,” I said, slowly moving to the table and lowering myself into a chair. “How did I sleep for eighteen hours?”
“I believe it was on a pillow,” Aunt Tillie said. “It might have also been because I put a sleeping spell on you to make sure you got some rest. Quite frankly, you’ve been really testy, and we all agreed you needed sleep to recharge.”
“But … omigod!” Realization washed over me. “We have so much to do! The guests will start arriving in a few hours. I didn’t finish the pies. What happened with Constance? Ugh, when will Winnie get here?”
“Calm down,” Twila chided, pouring coffee into my mug. “Everything is under control.”
How could she possibly say that? “Everything is not under control,” I snapped. “Everything is pretty far from under control. I … this is a disaster.” I buried my face in the crook of my elbow. “I’ll never live this down. Winnie will never leave town again.”
“Everything is done,” Thistle announced.
I sucked in a breath. “What did you just say?”
“Everything is done,” Thistle repeated. “We did it all.”
“But … how?”
“After you went upstairs yesterday, I had a talk with the girls,” Twila said. “We realized after the fact that you’ve had far too much responsibility heaped on you over the past few days and it wasn’t fair.”
“Notice she’s leaving me out of that equation,” Aunt Tillie interjected. “I didn’t think you had too much responsibility. I was outvoted, though.”
“Since when do you let people outvote you?”
“Since I decided to be the better person in this family,” Aunt Tillie replied.
Bay snorted. “Don’t you mean since Chief Terry threatened to confiscate all of your wine and hold it in evidence at the police station if you didn’t help instead of hinder this weekend?”
“No one likes a fresh mouth,” Aunt Tillie warned, wagging her finger in Bay’s direction. “That’s not what happened at all.”
“That’s exactly what happened,” Twila said, doling two slices of French toast onto a plate and sliding it in front of me. “We know you’ve been running yourself ragged to make sure everything is perfect. The thing is, nothing is ever perfect. You have to understand that.”
“This is an important celebration,” I reminded them. “We have to do things the right way or Winnie will be really upset.”
“Do you want to know something?” Aunt Tillie prompted. “Winnie will be upset if everything is perfect. She wants to think she’s the only one who does anything right around here – Goddess knows where she gets that – so she’ll be more upset that we got everything finished than she would be if everything was in tatters when she arrives.”
She had a point. Still … . “How did you guys get everything finished on time?”
“I handled the baking and cooking, with Thistle and Clove’s help, of course,” Twila supplied. “Once they got their sight back it took only thirty minutes to talk them off the ledge and get them in gear.”
“I’m still going to make you pay,” Thistle said, leaning closer to Aunt Tillie and locking gazes with her. “I’m going to be your worst nightmare.”
“You’re cute when you’re full of it,” Aunt Tillie said, patting her head and chuckling. “I look forward to our upcoming war.”
“No wars until after all the guests leave Sunday night,” Twila warned. “You two agreed yesterday. Don’t forget that.”
“We won’t forget,” Thistle said. “The second the last car leaves our driveway, though, bam! I’m going to crush you like a bug.”
“Sometimes you really are my favorite,” Aunt Tillie said. “You make me laugh. You should be a comedian.”
“I’m not joking.”
“I know you’re not,” Aunt Tillie said. “That’s what makes it all the funnier.”
“You’re not going to be laughing when I win,” Thistle said. “I will win someday. Just you wait. I have a feeling it’s going to be Sunday.”
I had a feeling this conversation was going to get out of hand if I didn’t put a stop to it. “I think everyone is looking forward to your war,” I said. “It’s not until Sunday, though, so retreat to your neutral corners.”
“Yes, ma’am,” Thistle said, taking me by surprise with her term of respect.
“So the food is taken care of,” I said. “What about the ritual site? We need to get all of those chairs out there.”
“That’s taken care of, too,” Twila said. “Aunt Tillie did it.”
I narrowed my eyes. The mere idea of my aunt carrying thirty chairs into the woods was laughable. “Really?”
“She made them fly,” Clove said, giggling. “It was like being in Fantasia.”
“You definitely watch too much television,” I said, although I was happy she seemed so tickled with Aunt Tillie’s solution. “No one saw, did they? How long were the cops and coroner out here?”
“They were here until it was almost dark,” Twila answered. “Aunt Tillie waited until it was completely dark to move the chairs. She even gave the girls rides.”
“It was great,” Thistle enthused. “It was like being on a roller-coaster.”
“I didn’t like it,” Bay said. She had a weak stomach when it came to fast rides. “I did like watching Aunt Tillie chase Thistle with five chairs all at once, though. She made them bark.”
“Yeah, that was annoying,” Thistle said, her face falling.
I was sorry I missed that. “What about Constance?”
“She’s gone,” Aunt Tillie said, averting her eyes. “She’s passed on. She’s at rest now.”
“How did that happen?” I was genuinely curious.
“Aunt Tillie talked to her for a long time,” Bay said. “She said I could go with her and see how it was done.” That sounded about right. “She was really nice to Constance. She never lost her temper.”
“That didn’t work, though,” Aunt Tillie added. “Finally I had to enlist the girls to help me cast a release spell.”
“What’s that?”
“Aunt Tillie had us call to the four corners with her and put Constance’s mind back as it was supposed to be,” Bay explained. “She knew who she was at the end. She thanked Aunt Tillie for what she did and even apologized for cheating at cards.”
“It seems she was lucid for that,” Twila said. “Aunt Tillie wanted to undo the spell when she found out, but we talked her out of it.”
“What about Terry?” I asked. “Is he going to show up with questions about the body being found here?”
“He’s already asked all of his questions,” Bay replied. “He said the case is closed. Constance’s body is already at the funeral parlor.”
“He said the coroner took a brief look at Constance and said she died of a heart attack,” Twila said. “He called us with the news last night because he didn’t want us to worry. She probably went pretty quickly.”
“She would’ve been scared, though,” Bay said, her eyes darkening. “She was trapped in that ravine and had no idea who she was. Then she died all alone.”
“It is sad, Bay,” I agreed. “She’s where she’s supposed to be now, though. That’s the important thing.”
“She’s happy, Bay,” Aunt Tillie added. “She knows who she is and she’s moved on. She didn’t have much life left to live here anyway. Don’t be sad. Be happy because Constance is happy. That’s the way it should be.”
Bay nodded.
“So everything is done?” I said, amazed. “I can’t believe you all worked together to do this … for me.”
“I don’t know why you’re surprised,” Aunt Tillie said. “That’s what a family does. We torture each other until the last possible second and then we band together. That’s always the way it has worked in this family. That’s the way it always will continue to work.”
“Even a
fter I beat Aunt Tillie on Sunday,” Thistle said.
“Dream on, smart mouth,” Aunt Tillie said, arching an eyebrow.
I opened my mouth to thank them, a hundred different ways to express myself on the tip of my tongue, but a car honking out front ruined the moment. That’s what I’m telling myself, at least.
“Mom’s home,” Bay said, wiping her hands and pushing herself up from the table. “I hope she brought me something.”
“Winnie’s here,” I said. “Winnie’s here and everything is done and on schedule.”
“Exactly,” Aunt Tillie said, smiling.
“I’m the best boss ever. Don’t you think?”
“Don’t get a big head,” Aunt Tillie chided. “No one likes it when a person gets a big head. In fact, it’s really annoying.”
“She should know,” Thistle said, giggling as she evaded Aunt Tillie’s swat and skipped toward the front of the house. “I’ll see you Sunday, old lady.”
“I’ll be waiting with curses on,” Aunt Tillie shot back.
THE SOLSTICE celebration was a hit. I knew it would be. What? I did.
After a picnic full of laughter and funny stories on the back lawn – Thistle and Aunt Tillie entertaining everyone with their antics – we moved to the clearing for our annual ritual. Technically, the Winchester family performs multiple rituals every year, but this was a special one. We were calling on the four corners to bless everyone with luck and love. The solstice made us strong, and we were stronger as a group.
“So, it seems everything went okay,” Winnie said, moving up to my side. “I have to say that I’m impressed.”
“You didn’t think I could pull it off, did you?” So far, no one had spilled the beans about any of the week’s trouble. I wasn’t holding my breath that would last, but I was hopeful I would get a few days to bask in it before I had to own up to all of the … um … problems. Let’s face it, no one wants to explain drunken curses and blind girls. Oh, and that’s on top of the ghost with dementia and whatever Aunt Tillie had planned for that box of spell supplies. Whew! I’m tired just thinking about it.
“It’s not that,” Winnie said. I could tell she was lying by the way she averted her gaze and fixed it on the revelers as they danced around the clearing. “I was merely worried that I gave you a lot of responsibility. Most people wouldn’t be able to handle that much responsibility.”
“Would you have been able to handle it?” It was a pointed question.
“I think it would have been a definite chore,” Winnie said. She was always so diplomatic. It made me want to wrestle her down and fill her mouth with dirt. What? The girls didn’t think that little gem up on their own.
“What you’re saying is that you would’ve handled it better than I did,” I prodded. “Admit it.”
“I’m saying nothing of the sort.”
Why didn’t I believe her? Oh, that’s right, I know her. Humble isn’t in her wheelhouse. “You’re very good at the responsibility thing, Winnie,” I said, choosing my words carefully. “I don’t envy all of the organizing you have to do. Things still came together like they were supposed to. You can’t possibly be unhappy with the outcome.”
“Who said I was unhappy?” Winnie was all faux innocence and light. She actually wanted me to believe she was hurt by my assumption.
“You would’ve been happier if things were in chaos and you had something to fix when you got home,” I said. “It’s okay. I know you and the way you think. I don’t take it personally.”
“That’s not true at all,” Winnie said, smiling when she saw Clove turning cartwheels. “The girls all look happy. I was definitely worried they would get into it with Aunt Tillie and make your life difficult.”
“That’s coming Sunday.”
Winnie knit her eyebrows. “What’s coming Sunday?”
“Thistle and Aunt Tillie are going to war the second everyone leaves,” I explained. “I’m telling you now so you can prepare yourself.”
“Why are they going to war?”
I shrugged. “I think they like it.”
Winnie snorted. “And this in no way has to do with them getting drunk or stealing Aunt Tillie’s pilfered supplies and her cursing them to go blind, right?”
I stilled, my heart hopping. “Who told you?”
Winnie pressed her lips together in an effort to keep from laughing. “I know all and see all,” she said finally. “Haven’t I already told you that?”
“But … they promised.”
“Yes, but Terry didn’t,” Winnie said, putting me out of my misery. “I saw him in town when I stopped to pick up a few things before coming home. He gave me a real earful about curses … and ghosts … and dancing naked and setting a bad example for three impressionable teenagers.”
“Of course,” I muttered. “I can’t believe he turned on me.”
“He didn’t turn on you,” Winnie clarified. “He only wanted to make me aware that it was unfair to dump everything on you at such a busy time. If anything, he was standing up for you.”
That made me feel a little bit better. “That’s because he likes me best.”
“We both know he stopped me to catch up because he likes me best,” Winnie shot back. “Don’t kid yourself. I’m his favorite.”
“Neither one of you should kid yourselves, because I’m his favorite,” Bay said, giggling as she appeared at my side. I messed her hair, smiling despite myself.
“I think you’re right, Bay,” I said. “You’re definitely his favorite.”
“Does that mean I get to be the boss?” Bay asked, her eyes sparkling.
“I think you’re already the boss … of your particular trio,” I replied.
“Oh, puh-leez,” Bay said, rolling her eyes. “Thistle is the boss. We all know it. She’s too mean to be anything other than in charge.”
“You’re probably right,” Winnie said. “Are you having a good time?”
Bay nodded.
“Did you miss me?” Winnie pressed.
“Of course,” Bay said. I couldn’t tell whether she was lying. “Marnie took good care of us, though. You shouldn’t be angry. Things got out of control and she made sure we were safe. Don’t make fun of her.”
“When do I ever make fun of her?” Winnie asked.
“Every single day.” Bay shot me a winning smile.
“No one panic, but we have a problem,” Thistle said, racing up to me.
Uh-oh. I was waiting for this to happen. “What’s the problem?”
“I’ll fix it,” Winnie said, causing my stomach to twist. “Just tell me what it is and I’ll fix it.”
“You can’t fix it,” Clove said, trailing behind Thistle. “Only Aunt Tillie can fix it.”
Well, this couldn’t be good. “What’s wrong?”
Thistle pointed toward the clearing where ten witches were stripping down to finish their dance.
“Oh,” I said, laughing. “I see what the problem is.”
“No, the problem is that in three minutes we’re all going to see everything again,” Thistle said. “We need Aunt Tillie.”
“What do you think she’s going to do for you?” Winnie asked. “She’ll be naked within the hour as well.”
“We know,” Clove said. “We need her to take our sight again before it happens. If she doesn’t, we’ll be scarred for life.”
“We can’t see boobs flying in a million different directions again,” Thistle said. “It will turn us into deviants. We want to be blind again.”
“I think you’re just going to have to suck it up,” I said. “I … .” I tilted my head to the side as I saw one of our Flint witches, Maven Dempsey – who is ninety years old if she’s a day – removing her bra. “You know what? I want to be blind, too.”
“Let’s all be blind,” Bay said.
“Indeed,” Winnie added.
Everyone dissolved into laughter. All was right in the Winchester world – well, at least until Sunday. Then all bets are off.
&nbs
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Acknowledgments
I want to thank everyone who takes the time to read my novels. I have a particular brand of humor that isn’t for everyone – and I know that.
If you liked the book, please take a few minutes and leave a review. An independent author does it all on their own, and the reviews are helpful. I understand that my characters aren’t for everyone, though. There’s a lot of snark and sarcasm in my world – and I know some people don’t like that..
Special thanks go out to Heidi Bitsoli and Donna Rich for correcting the (numerous) errors that creep into a work of fiction.
If you’re interested in my future works, follow me on Facebook, Twitter or join my mailing list. I do not believe in spam. I only announce new releases or free promotions.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording or by any information storage and retrieval system, without written permission from the author, except for the inclusion of brief quotations in a review.
Books by Amanda M. Lee
An Avery Shaw Mystery
Who, What, Where, When, Die
If it Bleeds, it Leads
Buried Leads
Shot Off The Presses
The Preditorial Page
Misquoted & Demoted
Headlines & Deadlines
Misprints & Mistakes
A Wicked Witches of the Midwest Mystery
Any Witch Way You Can
Every Witch Way But Wicked
Witching You Were Here
Witching on a Star
Something to Witch About
Witch Me Luck
Life’s a Witch
A Solstice Celebration: A Wicked Witches of the Midwest Short Page 9
