Witch Way Round (Witch of Mintwood Book 6)

by Addison Creek

Unhappy with the scrutiny, I was about to go inside when she walked sternly over to join me on the porch.

  “Don’t look so happy to see me,” she said, pulling the shawl more closely around herself. Yeah, I thought to myself, as if ghosts get cold. Nice performance.

  “That won’t be too hard,” I assured her.

  “You know he’s pulling your leg, right?” she asked sharply.

  “What do you mean?” I said.

  There was no one near me and I hadn’t been talking to anyone. What was she talking about?

  “Your grandmother loved getting official notices from the Witches’ Council. She kept them all together, and the collection was her pride and joy. That and her antique pens,” said Karen.

  For a split second I listened to the ringing in my ears, then my voice exploded into the night as I yelled, “PAWS!”

  Chapter Two

  I turned around and glared at the crate where my ghost cat usually lounged. Unsurprisingly, he was still nowhere to be seen.

  Then I got hold of myself enough to realize that it might be useful to pick Karen’s brain for more information.

  “So, this isn’t a big deal?” I asked in what I hoped were measured tones.

  “It isn’t a little deal. Your first official notice shouldn’t be celebrated by drinking a witch’s potion or anything like that, but it doesn’t mean you’re going to be deposed as the Witch of Mintwood,” she said.

  After a pause she added, as if for good measure, “You aren’t that cool.”

  Feeling ridiculous, I tried to play it off. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. That’s not what I thought at all.”

  “Sure it isn’t,” Karen said.

  “Just out of curiosity, where did Evenlyn keep her slips?” I asked.

  “How should I know?” said Karen, and she turned around and marched back to the tea ladies.

  I went to bed that night with more questions than I’d had when I got up that morning. Hopefully tomorrow I’d find some answers.

  Sleep is important and to be appreciated, but not when there were mysteries afoot! I had a hard time resting that night, and when I woke up with the sun I couldn’t fall back to sleep.

  It turned out to be a long day, but a busy one. Greer and Charlie were both off at work, and since that left me to my own devices, mischief was of course to be conducted.

  I resumed my search for information where I had left off the night before, kept it up all morning, and started right up again after a quick lunch. Whenever I paused and thought about Meredith Munn for too long, I got nervous.

  The Witches’ Council felt like it must be a big deal. Why couldn’t I find more information about it and what it did? What rules governed it? How could I possibly have broken one? I mostly kept to myself here in Mintwood, just as my grandmother had told me to do.

  After lunch Charlie texted me to ask about my progress “on that question I’d had,” and I was forced to tell her that I was no further along than when we’d gone to bed the night before. She promised to help after she finished work for the day.

  Several hours and a lot of overturned drawers later I had to admit it to myself: I was not going to find my grandmother’s Witches’ Council notices without help from Paws.

  I went down to the living room at last and found that Charlie and Greer were home. I’d been so caught up in searching through my grandmother’s things that I hadn’t even heard them come in. Greer was reading a book and Charlie was perusing articles in the various newspapers she kept track of every day.

  “I didn’t even know you’d come home,” I said wearily.

  “Sorry, but I needed a few minutes of quiet after a long day,” Greer apologized. She was stretched languidly on the couch with her eyes half closed.

  I assured her that it was okay. She wasn’t the only one who’d had a long day.

  “I’ve never seen that look on your face before,” said Charlie, standing up as soon as I walked into the room.

  “You’ve never seen me about to Poof a ghost before,” I said, marching toward the porch. Paws had avoided me until now, but no longer. My information-hunting wasn’t getting anywhere without him; the cat had to come clean.

  “Do you know, I don’t think she’s kidding,” Charlie said to Greer.

  “What tipped you off?” Greer asked.

  “The angry face,” said Charlie.

  “Me too,” said Greer

  They both scrambled to follow me.

  Paws was on his crate looking comfortable, but even he realized something was wrong when he caught sight of the look on my face.

  “What’s wrong?” he asked, the picture of innocence.

  My jaw worked, but nothing came out.

  “Cat got your tongue?” he asked.

  I growled and Paws’ eyes flared.

  “Evenlyn loved getting official warnings from the Witches’ Council, did she? She took it as a joke? I’ve been in a panic that I’m in big trouble and I’ve ruined everything, and really it’s not a big deal at all?” I seethed.

  At first Paws looked alarmed, but once he listened to what I was saying he relapsed into smug silence. When he had watched me seethe for a sufficient amount of time he said, “It’s true that your grandmother took it as something of a joke when the Witches’ Council chided her.”

  “So how could you let me get into such a panic about Miss Munn?” I demanded.

  “You aren’t your grandmother,” said the cat simply. “Your grandmother was a feared and respected witch. She’d been at it for decades. No one has the slightest idea who you are. You’re unproven and you’re breaking rules right and left. Evenlyn knew when she was breaking rules. You do not.”

  “He has a point,” said Greer, who had sat down on the porch steps to watch the spectacle.

  Charlie chose the rocking chair, and when she settled into it the porch let out a large belch, then a cough and a groan.

  “The porch is fine,” I huffed when Charlie flinched.

  “Sure it is,” said Greer, giving a fearful look at the side that tilted.

  Just then Tank went scampering past. The ghost dog Funnel loped after him, having come over for a visit this evening from his usual home base at the cemetery. At the sight, Paws jumped off his crate and started chasing them, snarling, “I’ll get you if it’s the last thing I do, you mangy, inferior animals!”

  I braced my elbows on my knees and rubbed my temples.

  “I have to get out of here,” I said, shaking my head.

  “Whatever could you possibly mean?” Greer asked sweetly.

  “Mintwood. I need to get out of Mintwood for real. Just for a vacation. I haven’t had one since I came back here, and I’m just realizing that it matters,” I muttered to the porch step.

  “Don’t know why you would possibly think you needed one of those,” Charlie joked.

  “Me neither,” said Greer.

  “Want to come with me?” I asked.

  “Yes,” they chorused.

  “Where are we going?” Charlie wanted to know.

  I lifted my head and bit my lip.

  We’d had the same question when we’d talked about it the night before, and I still didn’t have an answer.

  “The stars aren’t going to tell you,” said Greer. When I glared at her she closed her mouth with a snap. “You’re right. Of course they might.”

  “We could rent a cottage on a lake. This is Maine, after all,” suggested Charlie.

  “It’s too early in the spring for most places to be open,” said Greer.

  “We could get suggestions from Miss Violetta and go to New York City,” was Charlie’s next idea.

  Miss Violetta ran Mintwood’s only hair salon, proudly situated on Main Street across from the Daily Brew. Coffee and a trim were the order of the day. The business was successful and thriving, and no one was happier about it than Mintwood’s previous hairdresser, Mrs. Barnett. She had hated cutting hair with a passion, a fact that she’d confessed to me in a whisper whe
n Miss Violetta showed up in town. After hearing how much Mrs. Barnett disliked cutting hair, I counted all of us in Mintwood lucky that we hadn’t been given bowl cuts on a regular basis.

  “That doesn’t sound relaxing,” said Greer.

  “Why are you pooh-poohing all my ideas?” Charlie demanded.

  “Get a better idea and I’ll agree with it,” said Greer.

  “Why don’t you come up with something?” said Charlie.

  Greer was quiet for so long that Charlie and I started to think something was wrong.

  “I might have an idea,” said Greer.

  “Are we not going to like it?” Charlie was so curious she was leaning toward Greer as if she could hear the idea sooner that way.

  “No, I’m the one who doesn’t like it,” said Greer, looking unhappy. “This weekend is the Iriswood Country Club’s annual retreat, only this year is extra special because it’s the club’s hundredth anniversary.”

  “Duh! Everyone knows that,” said Charlie in frustration. “We’ve been doing articles about what a big deal it is for months. The dresses alone are going to be incredible, but there’s also going to be food and dancing and high-class entertainment. The wealth in that room . . .”

  When Greer and I looked at her as if she was crazy she explained, “It’s the social event of the year. Everyone who’s anyone will be there. The connections you could make and the gossip you could hear . . .” Charlie shook her head as she imagined the opportunities for an enterprising reporter. “Greer, I’m surprised you’re even mentioning it. I would have thought your family was a mainstay there.”

  Greer cleared her throat. She was looking less happy by the second.

  “They are. That’s why I’m bringing it up. We’re all invited.”

  Charlie ceased all movement. She’d just heard the most important words of her life.

  She was tickled pink.

  Chapter Three

  Charlie sat forward, her eyes gleaming gold like torches on a dark night. “You want me to go spend a weekend with the most powerful people in the county? The movers and shakers? The decision-makers?”

  “That’s not exactly how I look at it,” grumbled Greer.

  “Don’t you worry your pretty little head about that. That’s how I’ll look at it for both of us,” said Charlie.

  “I’m not saying I want it. I’m saying I was invited, and my mother knew I wouldn’t come so she tried to sweeten the deal by extending an invitation to my roommates,” Greer explained. “She thought you could be bought. Turns out she was right.”

  “The woman is a master,” said Charlie, shaking her head in appreciation.

  “You have no idea,” sighed Greer.

  “I can only aspire to be like that one day,” said Charlie.

  “That’ll be fun,” Greer muttered. Then she looked at me, trying to read my silence. “You’re the one who needs a break from Mintwood. What do you think?”

  Charlie sucked in her breath in suspense.

  I bit my lip, thinking. Greer looked resigned, while Charlie was doing her best not to look desperate.

  “I think if you don’t mind taking us, I’d like to go. The Iriswood Country Club is supposed to be beautiful,” I said.

  “It is that,” said Greer. “All the people who go there are snooty and think they deserve the best of the best, and they’re willing and able to pay for it.”

  Charlie clapped her hand to her forehead. “I don’t have anything to wear.”

  “That’s the other part of it,” sighed Greer. She looked like she was sinking into the floor, as if this was ordeal getting worse and worse. “My mother offered to take us shopping.”

  I had only seen Greer’s mother a handful of times in all the years I’d known Greer. For a woman Greer described as a master manipulator and the ruler of all that’s annoying, she was tiny. And that was about the only impression that had stayed with me.

  I hadn’t seen any of the Dices since Greer had moved into the farmhouse, but according to Greer that was about to change. In a few short days the three of us would be tossed in the deep end, with our own complicity. Greer was apprehensive, I was curious, and Charlie started taking swimming lessons three times a day.

  We agreed that we could spend the weekend at the Iriswood Country Club, forgetting about mysteries and celebrating the Club’s history. At least, that’s what Charlie and I would do. Greer would spend a lot of the weekend trying not to have a fight with her mother.

  “Seems like a pretty normal weekend to me,” shrugged Charlie. “Except that we’ll be in Iriswood!”

  The coastal town was close to Mintwood geographically, but that’s about where the similarities ended. I’d heard of their renowned Country Club, mostly because it was supposed to have a top-notch golf course.

  Not that I knew anything about golf.

  “According to Manners for all Situations, you only kiss on both cheeks if the person is from Europe,” said Charlie the next evening.

  I had been out all day helping Mrs. Ivy weed her garden, and Greer had been at work. Charlie had gotten back to the farmhouse first and was lounging on the porch with all the ghosts.

  Of the three of us, Charlie got along best with them. She’d told me once that she tried to get along with everyone; it was easier to get information out of people—and ghosts—that way.

  The tea lady Karen was sitting with Charlie when I pulled up in the Beetle, Greer coming in behind me. When the ghost caught view of me she lifted her chin, stood up, and floated back to the other ghosts.

  “What was that all about?” I asked Charlie, glancing in Karen’s direction.

  “She just came over to chat,” said my reporter friend, as if it was the most normal thing in the world. She was curled up on the porch, reading by the light coming through the living room window.

  “Karen never wants to chat with me,” I said.

  “She doesn’t like you.” Charlie blinked like an owl.

  “No kidding,” said Greer, who had arrived at the porch too. “What are you reading?”

  “Manners for All Situations,” said Charlie, holding up the library book.

  Greer looked irritated. “What are you doing that for?”

  “Preparation. Don’t be mad, because I won’t stand for it. This is officially the most important weekend of my life, and you can’t expect me to go in unprepared,” said Charlie.

  Judging by Greer’s expression, that’s exactly what she expected Charlie to do.

  “How else would you like to be more prepared?” Greer growled.

  “For good measure, I’m getting my eyebrows waxed tomorrow,” said Charlie.

  Greer rolled her eyes at that but turned her attention back to the books. Seeing her glance, Charlie plowed on. “My understanding is that people like the ones we’ll be hanging out with at the Country Club behave in special ways.”

  Greer’s cheeks puffed out and her eyes bulged. “What does that even mean?”

  “Like, there will be a lot of outfit changes, and you have to eat with the right fork.” Charlie trailed off, having finally realized that the ground she was treading on was more like thin cloth than solid wood or concrete.

  “You can use whatever fork you want,” said Greer, noticeably calming down. “I would agree that there are a lot of outfit changes. If we go Thursday and come back Sunday we should bring at least eight dresses. Apiece.”

  Both Charlie’s and my mouths fell open. I only owned eight dresses, and that was if you counted the ones I hadn’t gotten rid of since high school but never actually wore.

  “You don’t have to wear only dresses,” Greer said, misunderstanding the looks of horror she was getting. “It’d be a good idea, though.”

  “Fine. Soon we’re going shopping with my mother,” said Greer, “and then we can go to Iriswood.” Then she stomped into the house without another word.

  “I think she’s secretly excited,” said Charlie. “Deep, deep down.”

  “Yeah, if you say so,” I
said dryly. “How do you feel about Andy being there?”

  Charlie’s boyfriend Andy was on the guest list for the first time this year. Apparently his new girlfriend’s family was a mainstay of the Club, so they’d both be there. Greer had told Charlie as much the night before so Charlie could go into the weekend with her eyes open.

  When Charlie heard that news she looked upset, but she covered it well.

  “I don’t care,” she said now, tossing her blond hair backwards. “I care so little that before we go I’m going to get a manicure and a pedicure and buy a super-expensive dress and all new makeup and maybe get a blowout. See? Totally healthy.”

  I laughed. Charlie was trying to lighten the mood, but I knew she wasn’t entirely kidding. Andy’s presence would be an irritant at best, especially given that she was going to run into him and his new girlfriend for the first time while she was still single.

  “I admire your determination to have a good time,” I told her.

  She grinned at me and went back to reading her book.

  We all knew that Greer’s master plan and Charlie’s excitement were tempered by the fact that Greer’s family and Charlie’s ex-boyfriend were slated to be at the Country Club. Greer had two older brothers, both of whom had made their parents proud, while Greer had kept her distance and was working as a bartender. As for Charlie, she hadn’t dated since Andy, and her uptight ex had moved his new girlfriend into the same apartment he’d shared with Charlie an unconscionably short time after they’d split up.

  So far I didn’t know of any flies in my own ointment for the weekend, but given my luck, the head of the committee was probably Wolf, Sr.

  None of it mattered now, though, because we had committed ourselves to going.

  Iriswood Country Club here we come.

  Chapter Four

  As part of the Caedmon Chronicle’s ongoing series highlighting the strengths and talents of the Wolf Corporation, this article explores how the Wolfs are focusing on new development in Jadestone County.

  The Wolf Corporation always has numerous irons in the fire. As a testament to how busy the company is these days, soon after I arrived at Jasper Wolf’s office he was interrupted three times with questions about various business endeavors, until he was forced to close his door and disconnect his phone. (He is one of the few people in the world who still has a landline. I believe it’s so that his grandfather can get in touch with him when necessary.)