Witchin' USA

by Amanda M. Lee

  “He was going through a chest in my office,” he continued. “When I asked him what he was doing, he fumbled through an answer that made absolutely no sense. He said he was looking for toilet paper because they were out in the barn.”

  “What happened then?”

  “I fired him on the spot and told him not to come back,” Wesley replied. “I want to help, but my giving spirit only goes so far.”

  “Was that the last time you saw him?” I asked.

  Wesley nodded. “He hasn’t been around since. I thought there was a chance he might try to break in, so I made sure the security system was up and running, but he never did. Er, well, at least to my knowledge.”

  “So he was unemployed at the time of his death,” Booker mused. “Maybe he was desperate for money. Just out of curiosity, what was in the chest? What did you find him looking at?”

  “It was just some of my ex-wife’s stuff,” Wesley said. “Some old photographs and a few folders full of divorce documents. There was nothing in there worth stealing.”

  Mention of an ex-wife stirred my curiosity. “Who is your ex-wife?”

  “May Potter.”

  I stilled, my stomach doing a somersault. I heard him wrong, right? “I’m sorry?”

  Booker blinked several times in rapid succession, his face draining of color. “I thought you knew.”

  “Knew what?” My heart pounded so hard I thought I might pass out. “Is he saying what I think he’s saying?”

  “He’s saying he’s your grandfather,” Lilac supplied happily. “Congratulations! It’s a really crabby bear.”

  I did my best to ignore the joke and looked to Booker for help. “But … why didn’t you say something?”

  Booker held his hands palms up and shrugged. “I thought you knew.”

  Right. That should be the new Moonstone Bay motto. Crap on a cracker.

  17

  Seventeen

  “You’re my grandfather?”

  The question felt alien coming off my tongue, like I was stuck in a dream and part of the rules included saying the most absurd thing that comes to mind. Sadly, I’ve had dreams like that.

  Wesley didn’t look nearly as flummoxed as me. “You’re Hadley, aren’t you?”

  That wasn’t much of an answer. “But … .” I broke off, unsure what to say or feel. This wasn’t what I expected. This entire place wasn’t what I expected. I needed time to decompress and do … something, though I had no idea what that something entailed.

  Booker leaned in my direction, his eyes unnaturally wide as he waved a hand in front of my face. “You’re not overloading are you? If you think you’re going to pass out, sit down.”

  “I think we broke her,” Lilac announced. “She couldn’t take another surprise, yet you insisted we come out here so she could get one. I blame you, Booker.”

  “I thought she knew,” Booker hissed. “I just assumed she didn’t want to talk to Wesley because May and Wesley hated each other.”

  “I hated May,” Wesley corrected. “She deserved it. She was bitter about our breakup and hid her broken heart in mean statements and name-calling. There’s a difference.”

  Lilac snorted. “Okay, if that’s what you need to tell yourself. She’s the one who dumped you.”

  “Who told you that?” Wesley challenged. “It happened thirty-five years ago. That was long before your time.”

  “I know things.”

  “You don’t know jack,” Wesley fired back.

  Booker ignored their argument and focused on me. “Would you like me to help you sit down?”

  “Not in the least.” I found my voice and slapped his hand away. Wesley stood with his arms crossed over his chest as he waited for me to get my bearings. “Did you know who I was when I came in here?”

  Wesley shook his head. “Not at first. It’s not as if I recognized you with my heart and soul or anything. I realized a few minutes in who you were.”

  “Why didn’t you say something?”

  “Because I didn’t know if you wanted me to do that,” Wesley replied. “You were playing it cool.”

  “I didn’t know!” I barked out, frustration bubbling up. “How could I possibly know that?”

  “How could you not know that?” Lilac challenged. “I mean … he’s your grandfather. My papa is one of my favorite people. He wears black socks and sandals no matter how hot the day is. He also sexually harasses random waitresses when they wear short skirts and actually yells at kids to get off his lawn. He’s hilarious.”

  “I should’ve realized that you didn’t know him,” Booker lamented, scratching at his five o’clock shadow. “If you didn’t know May, how could you possibly know about Wesley?”

  That was a very good question. I locked gazes with Wesley, trying to find a bit of him in me. Other than the shape of his nose, there was nothing. “I’m not going to pretend to understand any of this,” I said, keeping my voice low and even. “I didn’t know May Potter existed until her will showed up three months ago. I guess I never gave a grandfather much thought because … well … I figured anyone alive who loved my mother would’ve tried to get in touch with me.”

  “Do you honestly think I didn’t try to see you?” Wesley challenged.

  My stomach flipped at the implication. “Are you saying my father kept you away?”

  “I’m saying May kept me away,” Wesley replied. “We split up before Emma was out of high school. After that I was cut out of every decision. I didn’t get a say in where Emma went to college. I didn’t get a say in who she married. I was just some guy who provided sperm at the right time.”

  That was an unsettling image. “But you could’ve approached me on your own.”

  “Yeah, well, it’s not that simple, dolly.” Wesley forced a smile for my benefit. “You look a little pale. Do you need some water?”

  “Sure. Thank you.”

  Wesley shuffled over to a small refrigerator in the corner of the barn and grabbed several bottles, handing one to Booker before donating one to my pitiful emotional breakdown. He ignored Lilac and kept the third for himself.

  I mechanically cracked open the bottle and drank, not stopping until it was completely empty. I hoped the water would serve to fill the hole inside of me, but all it left me feeling was cold.

  “Are you okay?” Booker asked after a beat.

  “Yeah, I’m just groovy.”

  “Do you want to go home?”

  Where was home? I didn’t feel as if I belonged anywhere right now. “I want to finish this,” I replied, squaring my shoulders. “Did Mark Santiago take anything from the chest?”

  “Not that I saw,” Wesley said. “He wasn’t in there very long. I’m not sure what he was looking for, but at the time I thought maybe he was searching for old jewelry. I even considered that May hired him to infiltrate my house to steal back an old pair of earrings or something, but I didn’t have anything like that.”

  “So what’s in the chest?”

  “There’s a quilt my mother made May when we first got married,” Wesley replied. “It has all of these interlocking patterns on it. My mother said it was supposed to signify a life spent together. May packed it with my stuff when we split.”

  “That’s all?”

  “There are copies of divorce documents and a few things regarding Emma’s custody. Those wouldn’t come into play now, and it’s not as if there was bank information on anything. The divorce documents specified that May got the lighthouse and I got this parcel of land. That was before the farm was here – which I started right after the divorce – but it was basically a property split and we only had two pieces of property.”

  “You didn’t want the lighthouse?” I was naturally curious.

  “The lighthouse belongs to May’s family,” Wesley explained. “I never had a claim to it and no matter how rough things got between us, I never would’ve made a play for what belonged to her. My grandfather left this land to me.

  “For years before the divor
ce it was used for herd grazing,” he continued. “There was another farmer back then, Robert Baxter, and I leased the land to him for grazing. Once the divorce was finalized, I was looking for something to do and realized that farming might be my future. It turns out it was.”

  “What happened to the other farmer?”

  “He stayed in business until the end,” Wesley replied. “When he died I bought out his land and doubled my parcel. Farming turned out to be something that was in my blood. Perhaps it’s in yours, too.”

  I doubted that very much. Still, he seemed as if he was trying to be kind and attentive. I couldn’t ask for much more than that given the circumstances. “I had an ant farm as a kid.”

  “Yeah, how did that go?”

  “The glass broke and they got out and infested the kitchen. I could never have another pet after that.”

  Wesley tilted his head to the side, something I did on occasion when trying to figure out how to respond to something ridiculous. “Ants aren’t pets,” he said finally.

  “No. Definitely not.” I handed him the empty bottle. “Thank you for your time and the information. I’m sorry we dropped in without calling.”

  Wesley’s expression was hard to read. “You don’t have to leave if … .”

  I held up a hand to still him. “I need to do some thinking. It seems that’s all I’m doing these days, but I really need a little air and space. I’m not sure what to make of all this.”

  “Fair enough.” Wesley bobbed his head. “If you want to talk in a few days – or even a few weeks – I’ll be out here. I’m sure you’ll have questions.”

  “The problem is, I’m not sure you can come up with satisfactory answers.”

  “Maybe not, but every story has multiple sides.”

  “I guess.” I shook my head to snap myself out of an imminent case of melancholy. “I need to think a bit. I hope that’s okay.”

  “It’s fine. Come out when you need to talk.”

  “What if I never need to talk?”

  Wesley took me by surprise when he chuckled. “Dolly, you might not be all me, but you still have a dose of my genes. You’ll need to talk.”

  Oddly enough, I was pretty sure he was right. For today, though, I was talked out. “Thank you for your time. If we have more questions, we’ll give you a call.”

  “DO YOU WANT to talk with us about it?”

  We were back in the minibus before anyone spoke. I would’ve been happy to make the entire trip in silence, but Lilac had other ideas.

  “I don’t know what there is to talk about.” I focused outside of the passenger window as Booker drove down the winding driveway. “It’s just more of the same.”

  “How can you say that? You have a grandfather you’ve never met. That must be exciting.”

  “You’d think so, wouldn’t you?” I was anything but excited. “To me it’s just another person who knew who I was, knew I existed, yet did nothing to get to know me.”

  Lilac remained optimistic despite my dour mood. “I’m sure he had good reason.”

  “Shut up, Lilac,” Booker ordered, making a clucking sound with his tongue as he pulled onto the highway that led back to the city. “Can’t you see that she needs time to decompress?”

  “No.”

  “Then maybe you need glasses,” Booker charged. “Give her some space.”

  “Yes, sir.” I could hear the pout in Lilac’s voice but didn’t shift to see if her expression matched the tone.

  “As for Wesley, he’s a difficult and obnoxious man at times – but I’m sure you’ve figured that out yourself,” Booker said. “That doesn’t mean he’s not a good man. If he volunteered to answer questions for you, spend time with you, that means he really wants it to happen, no matter how gruff he appeared.”

  “That’s true,” Lilac said. “He’s not a very good conversationalist, but you’re not either at times, Hadley, so you probably get that from him.”

  “I’m totally going to thump you,” Booker growled.

  Lilac continued talking, unbothered. “What you need is a nice dinner and some friendly conversation. I’ll help you cook, and then we can talk about our next plan of action.”

  That sounded like a completely terrible idea, especially because I wanted to be alone. “Maybe … .”

  “I have to finish your upstairs window, too,” Booker added. “Galen said he would stop by. You promised him dinner.”

  It was as if he knew I was going to beg off and kick everyone out.

  “Fine.” I blew out a sigh. “We’ll have dinner and chat and pretend that I didn’t find out about zombies, witches and neglectful grandparents. It sounds like a fabulous evening. What could go wrong?”

  “THE KEY TO great steak is to marinate it in red wine for a bit before putting it on the grill.” Lilac was in full chef mode as I sat at the picnic table an hour later and watched her rub four huge hunks of meat with a mixture of salts before shoving them in a bowl surrounded by ice and using plastic wrap to cover it. “Now we’ll let them sit for a bit and they’ll be delicious when we grill them.”

  “I’m glad to know the key to a great steak,” I said, reaching for the remainder of the wine Lilac didn’t use for her marinating project. I considered pouring it into a glass, but that seemed a waste of manual labor when it came to dishes later. “I always thought the best way to get a good steak was to go to Outback Steakhouse.”

  “You’re cute.” Lilac patted my head as if I were a small child who needed comfort. “But I’m starting to think that you’re losing your mind. I have tranquilizers if you want them. I think you need a good night’s sleep tonight no matter what. They’re very mild and go great with wine, so … .”

  “Don’t even think about it,” Booker ordered, strolling toward the table with two bottles of water in his hand. He set one in front of me, eyed the wine bottle as I drank straight from it for a moment, and then shook his head. “Are you in the mood to get drunk?”

  “I’m in the mood to get numb,” I corrected. “If I wanted to get drunk I’d be drinking straight from a rum bottle.”

  “She has a point,” Lilac said.

  “Nobody asked you.” Booker was clearly at the end of his rope and Lilac’s chirpy voice wasn’t doing much to stop him from metaphorically hanging himself. “Listen, Hadley, you suffered a hard blow today … .”

  “Are you talking about almost dying in the middle of the night, finding out I killed a man, discovering a grandfather I didn’t know existed – and who clearly doesn’t care that I exist – or realizing I’ve been cooking steaks wrong my entire adult life?”

  Booker blinked several times, his face unreadable. “You’re in a really bad place, aren’t you?”

  “Nope. I have wine.” I took another swig, pursing my lips as Lilac and Booker exchanged an obvious look.

  “Okay, forget what I said a few seconds ago about suffering a hard blow,” Booker suggested. “I have no idea where I was going with that and it obviously wasn’t going to help.”

  “Why do you think I have the wine?”

  “So you can forget,” Booker replied. “Is that really what you want?”

  “For right now or ever?”

  “Either.”

  “For right now the answer would be yes. Forever? I’m still debating.”

  “Oh, geez.” Booker pinched the bridge of his nose. “I am not good at this. I’m so not the guy you want around for an emotional meltdown. I can’t believe Galen talked me into staying.”

  “You don’t have to stay.” I took another gulp of wine and smiled as my mind began doing that floaty thing I was so fond of. I wasn’t drunk … or even tipsy … but at this rate it wouldn’t take me long, and absolutely nothing sounded better than hiding in a bottle for the next few hours. “I know you don’t want to. Leave your bill for the work you did on the counter and I’ll pay you tomorrow … just as soon as I remember where I put my checkbook.”

  “You’re not paying me for anything,” Booker argued. �
�I did the work because that’s what neighbors do.”

  “Not in Detroit.”

  “Yeah? Well, that sounds like a terrible place to live.” Booker’s patience wouldn’t last much longer. I could feel it. “Galen is paying for the supplies because he kicked in your door, and the labor is free.”

  “That’s so sweet.” I reached up and poked his cheek, surprised by my boldness. He didn’t look like a guy who enjoyed being touched in a teasing way, but I couldn’t seem to stop myself. “You’re very sweet.”

  “Are you already drunk?” Booker jerked the bottle from my hand, perplexed. “How much of this did she drink, Lilac?” His tone was accusatory. “You were supposed to be watching her.”

  “I was watching her,” Lilac protested. “I was also giving a cooking lesson. She couldn’t have imbibed all that much, because I used more than half of the bottle to marinate the steaks.”

  “Oh.” Booker furrowed his brow. “If you’re not drunk, what are you?”

  I held my hands palms up and shrugged. “High on life?”

  “You’re high on something,” Galen announced, appearing at the picnic table and shaking his head. “You guys have a lot of explaining to do. I heard where you went this afternoon, and I’m not happy.”

  His face was so stern I couldn’t help but smile as I snagged the bottle of wine back from Booker and patted the open spot next to me. “Do you want to get high on life with me?” I waved the bottle, teasing.

  Galen’s eyes darkened, something harsh passing through him. He recovered quickly and grabbed the bottle, taking a long drink before handing it back. “Why not? It’s always more fun to yell when you’re drunk.”

  “That’s my philosophy.”

  “Just great!” Booker’s eyes bounced between faces. “Apparently we’ve reached the crazy portion of tonight’s festivities.”

  I beamed at him. “It’s going to be so awesome.”

  18

  Eighteen