“It’s nice when I’m not the most hated one in the house,” Thistle drawled as she placed a martini in front of me before moving to the opposite end of the table.
“Where’s my drink?” Landon asked, annoyed.
“You know where the drink cart is.”
For her part, Melanie made a big show of stripping out of her coat and handing it to Chief Terry so he could hang it on the rack. She was clearly unhappy about the turn of events, even though she forced a smile for Chief Terry’s benefit when he mixed her a drink and delivered it to the table.
“This is a lovely room,” Melanie said after a drawn-out silence. “Who was your decorator?”
“They didn’t have a professional decorator,” Clove answered as she sipped a martini, Sam beside her. “They put it together themselves.”
“Well, they did a marvelous job.”
“I was technically their decorator,” Aunt Tillie announced. Mischief swirled around her like a tiny tornado as her eyes gleamed. She looked like a bird of prey about to swoop in and gobble up her squawking dinner. Unfortunately for Melanie, she was very clearly going to end up as nothing but a picked-over carcass. “I think I have a certain pizazz when it comes to picking accents for a room.”
Melanie rolled her eyes. “Right.”
“You didn’t decorate this room,” Thistle argued as Marcus delivered a drink to her. The men present could clearly sense that the evening was about to veer off the rails. They would try to keep things in check ... and fail miserably. That was the norm in this house. “I remember when they were decorating this room. You wanted to hang shrunken heads from the chandelier.”
“I still maintain that was a viable decorating choice,” Aunt Tillie challenged.
“You wanted them to talk, too,” I remembered, smirking. “You had a plan for allowing them to have conversations to entertain the guests.”
“Yeah.” Clove involuntarily shuddered. “Our mothers put the kibosh on that.”
“Mostly because they thought you would have nightmares,” Thistle supplied. “Bay and I were fine with it ... but we don’t freak out over stupid stuff.”
That was a gross exaggeration. I didn’t remember being fine with it. Of course, during the construction period when the old bed and breakfast was upgraded to the new inn I was in Detroit doing other things. I fancied myself as a big-time reporter who would tackle important stories. After a few years, I realized living the big life was nowhere near as fun as being close to my family and I returned home.
“I actually remember the great shrunken heads debate,” Chief Terry offered. “I believe Tillie was outvoted by a sound number that day.”
“Yes, you didn’t take my side either, Terry.” Aunt Tillie’s eyes darkened. “I haven’t forgotten.”
Melanie swallowed hard as her gaze bounced between faces. “I gather you guys are especially close. When Terry mentioned that you eat together four or five nights a week I thought he was exaggerating.”
“Oh, it’s no exaggeration,” Landon said as he returned to the table with a bourbon and soda. He sat in his usual chair between Aunt Tillie and me and immediately started rubbing my back, a soothing habit he’d picked up not long after we started dating. He had magic hands and knew it. “Everyone in this family is tragically co-dependent.”
“Does that include you?” Melanie asked pointedly.
“I’m the worst of all,” Landon answered without hesitation. “My life revolves around Bay. Everything she does is a maddening joy.”
Oh, geez. I didn’t bother to hide my eye roll. “That’s a lot of manure you’re shoveling,” I offered. “It won’t get you out of the doghouse.”
“Why is he in the doghouse?” Chief Terry asked.
“Because he’s got it coming.” I shifted on my chair and focused on Aunt Tillie. Anything was better than talking to Melanie. I didn’t care what Landon said, or how he pleaded with those big eyes of his, I was never going to accept Melanie. We were way beyond that. “I know you’re going to be getting your greenhouse going in the next few weeks, Aunt Tillie. I can carve out some time if you need help.”
Instead of reacting with gratitude, Aunt Tillie blinked several times in rapid succession. “You’re volunteering to help me garden?”
“I figure with Annie and Belinda moving to their new house you won’t have Annie as a sidekick until the school year is over with. I’d like to help.”
“Who are Annie and Belinda?” Melanie asked.
When none of us answered, Chief Terry filled the silence. “Belinda was involved in a car accident months ago. She almost died. Thistle and Bay found Annie wandering around dazed, and took care of her while Belinda recovered.
“After that, Belinda needed a job,” he continued. “She’s been living in the attic room with Annie and working here, but she’s saved up enough for her own place. She’ll still be working here while going to school, but they’re moving out. I think that’s soon, right?”
“They already moved out,” Thistle replied. “They’re spending this week setting up their new place.”
“I miss Annie,” Marcus noted. “She’s always so happy to see me.”
“I’m happy to see you,” Thistle shot back.
“Yes, but you don’t screech my name and throw your arms around me.”
“I could do that.”
“Maybe we’ll play that game later,” Marcus teased.
“Oh, man.” Chief Terry stared into his drink. “I remember when you guys were ten and hated boys. I think we should go back to that.”
“I never hated boys,” Clove announced. “I was always a fan of love.”
“You were,” Chief Terry agreed. “But Bay and Thistle weren’t, and they managed to keep you from going on and on about whatever boy you happened to have a crush on at any particular time. I miss those days.”
“It sounds like you spent a lot of time with them,” Melanie said. “You built forts for them ... and took them fishing.”
“They never liked the fishing. They did hunt for frogs for Tillie, so the outings were still fun.”
“I think you spoiled them.” Melanie’s gaze was pointed when it landed on me. “That’s probably why they think they can enter another woman’s place of business and order her around.”
“That’s not what happened,” I snapped, my temper coming out to play. “If you think your little games are going to work on Chief Terry, you’ve got another think coming. He’s too smart for that. He can see right through you.”
Chief Terry looked shocked. “Listen ... I don’t think now is the time for this conversation.”
“Then you shouldn’t have brought me here.” Melanie shoved back her chair and stood, her voice climbing as she glanced around the room. “I understand that Landon was simply trying to ease some of the tension from earlier, but that’s not going to work. You girls were out of line and I think I — along with Margaret and the others — deserve an apology.
“Now, I’ve heard enough stories about Ms. Winchester to know that she’s not the type to apologize no matter what,” she continued. “That’s probably dementia given her age, so I’m willing to let it slide. You girls are another story.
“I’m not going to sit by and watch you run roughshod over Terry,” she said. “He’s a good man and you’re obnoxious girls. You might’ve gotten away with murder in the past, but those days are over. I demand respect.”
She moved away from the table and fixed Chief Terry with an expectant look. “Well?”
Chief Terry’s face flushed with color. “Well, what?”
“She wants you to demand an apology,” I supplied. “She expects you to force us to do her bidding.”
“I don’t believe that’s what I said,” Melanie said dryly. “I do demand respect, though. If you’re not going to give it, I’m not staying.”
Chief Terry shot me a pleading look, but I hardened my heart. I had no intention of letting this woman come into my mother’s home and dictate terms. Sure, my mot
her was hiding in the kitchen like a great big coward, but it was far too late to back down.
“I’m not apologizing to you.” I was firm. “You attacked us. We were minding our own business.”
“Your crazy aunt came in and accused Margaret of being a killer!”
“Did she just call me crazy?” Aunt Tillie sipped her wine as I nodded.
“She also said you probably have dementia,” Thistle offered helpfully. “You might have missed that.”
“Well, bless you!” Aunt Tillie shoved her middle finger in the air, causing Clove and Thistle to duck their heads as they burst into hearty guffaws.
Disappointment rolled across Melanie’s features. “Well, I can see you girls never had a chance if this was your role model.”
“You’d be surprised the things she taught us,” Thistle said, sobering. “We’re more well-rounded than we seem.”
“Well, at least you believe it.” Melanie tapped her foot. “Come on, Terry. I’m not staying here to be insulted.”
Even though he was clearly torn, Chief Terry did as instructed. He didn’t have a lot of choice. He was her ride, after all, and we’d been less than hospitable. His eyes briefly locked with mine and I felt his sadness. “I’m disappointed, Bay.”
I blinked back tears. “So am I.”
“We’ll need to talk about this.”
“I can’t wait.”
“Come on, Terry!” Melanie was furious as she tugged on his arm. “I want out of this freak show.”
Chief Terry and Melanie were barely out of the room when Mom appeared on the other side of the swinging door with a platter of bread in her hand. The first thing she heard was Melanie screeching before the front door slammed.
Confused, Mom tilted her head to the side. “What did I miss?”
Twenty-Four
Landon was quiet for most of the walk back to the guesthouse. We’d left our vehicles at The Overlook, where we could claim them the following morning, and opted to enjoy the pleasant evening.
“You can smell spring,” I noted, my nose lifted. “It’s almost here.”
“Yeah.” His fingers were intertwined with mine, but Landon seemed distracted. “Can I ask you something, Bay?”
Bay, not Sweetie. That meant he was about to ask a serious question. “I feel guilty about what happened,” I announced. I knew exactly what he was going to ask. “I don’t feel guilty because of her. I maintain she’s not a good person. I feel guilty about him.”
Instead of chastising me, Landon sighed. “Bay, you have too good of a heart to not feel anything. I feel bad for him. I think he had grand plans for introducing Melanie to your family.”
“Like ... you think he sat around imagining how things would go?”
“Pretty much.”
“I didn’t realize Chief Terry was a middle-school girl.”
“It’s not just teenagers who imagine where they’ll end up,” he countered, refusing to back down. “I know you’re agitated, but there’s no reason to get insulting.”
I slowed my pace. “Does that mean you imagine where you’ll end up?”
Landon cocked an eyebrow. “Did you think I didn’t?”
I shrugged. “I guess I didn’t think about it. In case you haven’t noticed, I’ve been a bit self-absorbed of late.”
“You’ve been overwhelmed with other things,” he corrected. “No one blames you for that.”
I blamed myself, but that wasn’t germane to the conversation. “What do you dream about?”
“It’s usually pretty simple.” If Landon was embarrassed to talk about his dreams, he didn’t show it. “You and me. A bigger house. A kid or two.”
I pursed my lips. “Is the kid a boy or a girl?”
Landon snickered. “One of each.”
“You know that boys are kind of rare in our family, right?” I felt the need to explain that to him. If his heart was set on a son, that might not be an option.
“I think we’ve discussed this before, but I’m fine with that.” His tone was easy, pleasant, and there was no hint of subterfuge in his words. “I don’t understand how you guys kept the name ‘Winchester’ for a hundred years if there were never any males, but I don’t care either way. I think a little girl would be fun, too.”
I decided to join him in his seriousness. “When do you see this happening?”
Landon’s chuckle was long and drawn out. “Are you asking me when I’m going to propose?”
“Of course not,” I sputtered, my cheeks flashing hot. “I would never ... you ... me ... we ... why would you assume something like that?”
“Oh, you really are a terrible liar.” He gripped my hand and tugged me closer and wrapped his arm around my back. “I know you’re not jealous of Clove, but you’re anxious about her getting married before you. At first I thought Aunt Tillie was making it up, but now I realize it’s true.”
“I am not ... whatever it is you think I am.”
“I don’t have a name for it either. At least we’re on the same page.”
I wanted to make him see things my way. Ultimately it felt like a losing endeavor, so I could do nothing but sigh. “Fine. I might feel a little sad that she’s getting married first. That’s not the same as being jealous.”
“No. People who are jealous want bad things to happen to others. You don’t want bad things to happen to Clove.”
“I’m the oldest,” I reminded him. “I’m supposed to be the one who gets married first.”
“You were all born within two years of each other. No one is really older than the rest.”
I balked. “That’s not true. I was born first, so I learned the rules first. I was expected to teach those rules to Clove and Thistle when we were growing up.
“Also, I was the first to drive ... and date ... and graduate from high school ... and leave home,” I continued. “It was expected of me, to lead the way, so to speak.”
“And you think you should still be leading the way now?” Landon’s expression was hard to read. He didn’t look upset, merely curious, but I couldn’t be sure.
“No. I don’t want you to think I’m marriage crazy or anything.”
“I don’t think that.”
“I just don’t want her to beat me.”
Landon offered a hearty chuckle as he pulled me against his side. “I think that’s a family thing. I don’t want my brothers to beat me either. The thing is, I know we’re going to get married. I simply don’t see the need to rush it.”
“I don’t either.”
“Are you sure?” His gaze was probing. “If you want to move faster, we can talk about it.”
He was so sincere it soothed the nerves I hadn’t even realized were frazzled. “I believe things happen when they’re supposed to happen,” I replied. “For me, the hardest part is knowing that others are going to be looking at me as if I’ve fallen behind. I know it’s ridiculous, but people have always held us up against one another for comparison.”
“And you were always first,” Landon surmised. “Even though you were close in age, you were always first and you grew accustomed to your place at the head of the line.”
“Pretty much,” I confirmed. “Do you think less of me because of it?”
“No. I like that you aren’t completely perfect. That’s a normal human response. It’s also good that you recognize it’s a bit ridiculous to worry about. That’s also a normal response.”
“So ... we’re not arguing, right?”
“Not even a little.”
“Can we still make up when we get back to the guesthouse?”
Landon’s grin was so wide it almost swallowed his face. “I like the way your mind works.”
We increased our pace and were practically breathless by the time we arrived. Landon’s hands were on my waist as he spun me, offering up a smoldering kiss as he grabbed the keys from my hand and tried to open the front door. We were so lost in each other I didn’t notice someone moving toward us until the figure was practica
lly on top of us.
“Landon ... !”
He must have sensed the interloper at the last moment because Landon abandoned his attempt to get the key in the lock and thrust me behind him as he turned to face our guest. Given the limited light, it took me a moment to make out the individual’s features.
It was a woman. I knew that right away. The shadow was too short to belong to a man. When she finally moved to a spot where I could see the angles of her face, I almost gasped in shock.
“Mrs. Little?”
“Oh, this is not how I wanted to spend the rest of our night,” Landon complained, his eyes narrowing. “What are you doing here, Mrs. Little? If you’ve come to lodge another complaint about what happened in your shop today, I’m not in the mood to take it. Bother Chief Terry.”
“I’ve tried bothering Chief Terry,” Mrs. Little sniffed, crossing her arms over her chest. She looked petulant ... and on edge. “I was hoping I could come inside so we could talk.”
She had to be joking. “What?”
“Inside.” She made an exaggerated face and pointed toward the door. “We need to talk, and it’s too cold to do it out here.”
“We were pretty warm before you showed up,” Landon complained.
“So it’s probably best that you invite me in,” Mrs. Little noted. “The sooner we hash this out, the sooner you can go back to your fornication.”
Landon slid me a sidelong look. “I know she meant that as an insult, but it sounds good to me.”
I was right there with him.
MRS. LITTLE HAD NEVER VISITED the guesthouse — at least to my recollection — so it felt weird for her to inconvenience us tonight of all nights. She sat in the chair at the edge of the room, the one Landon preferred when he was watching a game, and rested her hands on her knees.
“I would offer you something to drink, but I don’t want you to stay longer than necessary,” I supplied.
“That’s fine.” She waved off the comment with a dismissive gesture. “We both know I wouldn’t drink anything in this house anyway. I’m afraid of being poisoned. It’s a reoccurring nightmare.”
Witch, Interrupted Page 23
