“Is that my only choice?” Aunt Tillie was nonplussed.
“It’s your best choice,” Thistle said, dejectedly moving to my side. “We’ll get Aunt Willa and Rosemary settled in their room and give them a tour. Hopefully when we’re done dinner will be ready.”
And then we can stuff food in our face as fast as humanly possible and retreat to the guesthouse, I silently added. “I think that’s a plan,” I said.
“WHAT is that smell?” Rosemary wrinkled her nose as she sat at the dining room table forty minutes later.
“It’s called food,” Landon replied, his irritation showing.
I sat in the chair next to him, instinctively squeezing his hand. He glanced at me a moment, his eyes hard, and then his expression softened.
“I’m sorry I left you with Aunt Tillie,” I whispered. “I thought you would prefer her to Aunt Willa.”
“I’m not angry with you, Bay,” Landon replied. “I’m just … tired.”
“I’ll give you a massage when we get back to the guesthouse,” I offered. It was a lame bribe, but I didn’t have much else to barter.
“I’ll only accept that deal if you’re naked.”
“Don’t talk about naked massages at dinner,” Aunt Tillie instructed from her chair at the head of the table. Mom wisely seated Aunt Willa and Rosemary in the middle so Aunt Tillie wouldn’t be tempted to stare anyone down during the meal. Instead, Clove and Sam moved from their regular spots, and Clove had to face off with Aunt Tillie throughout the meal.
The big worry of the evening was legitimate inn guests. My mother has a hard and fast rule: You are not to act up in front of paying customers. We’ve broken that rule so many times we’ve become known for our dinner theater. I worried this meal would switch us from the comedy category to horror.
Everyone at the table swiveled their faces in Aunt Tillie’s direction, assuming the show was about to start. My cheeks burned as my mother scorched me with a look that could’ve set an iceberg on fire.
“So, Bay, how did you and Landon meet?” Rosemary asked, trying to steer the conversation to a safer topic.
“Oh, well … .” I glanced at Landon, unsure.
“I was undercover on a case and I met her at a local corn maze,” Landon answered for me. “She was the prettiest woman in the field, and I couldn’t take my eyes off of her.”
He’s charming when he wants to be.
“How did you really meet?” Rosemary pressed.
Landon rolled his neck until it cracked. “That is how we met.”
“Oh.” Rosemary looked disappointed. Of course, given her face, that could’ve been her happy expression for all I knew. “I thought it would be under more exciting circumstances.”
“Like?”
“Like … I don’t know,” Rosemary said, shrugging. “I thought maybe you arrested her or something.”
Landon opened his mouth to say something I knew would make my mother melt down, but he didn’t get a chance to respond, because Mom appeared and started dishing pot roast, potatoes and fresh corn onto his plate.
“Landon and Bay have been inseparable for months now,” Mom said, pasting a fake smile on her face. “We’re very fond of him.”
“I only like him some of the time,” Aunt Tillie announced. “Right now would be one of those times.”
Mom narrowed her eyes. “Why? Where were you this afternoon that you suddenly like Landon?”
Aunt Tillie ignored her. “Generally my motto is that the only good cop is a dead one – I have that in common with N.W.A.”
“What’s N.W.A.?” Rosemary asked, confused.
“Don’t answer that,” Landon ordered.
“I happen to like Landon right now, though, so I’m giving that up as my motto,” Aunt Tillie said.
“Why do you like Landon now?” Aunt Willa asked, addressing Aunt Tillie directly for the first time since their uncomfortable meeting in the foyer.
“Anyone is better than you,” Aunt Tillie replied. “Where’s my dinner? If I’m going to get indigestion at least I should get dinner first.”
“I’m going to kill you,” Mom hissed as she dished a heaping slab of pot roast onto Aunt Tillie’s plate. “You shove that food in your mouth and behave.”
“That’s what she used to tell me when I was a kid,” I said, going for levity. “It works better with cake.”
The guests laughed while Aunt Willa and Rosemary looked annoyed.
“And what do you do, Bay?” Rosemary asked. I had no idea why she kept returning the focus to me. We were the same age, so I was expected to entertain her on the rare occasions we were in the same place while growing up. It was never fun, and I knew now would be no different.
“I’m editor at The Whistler.”
Aunt Willa snorted. “I can’t believe that newspaper is still in business. Is it as pathetic as it used to be?”
Landon stiffened next to me, annoyed on my behalf. “It’s a weekly newspaper in a small town,” he said. “Bay does an amazing job, considering what she has to work with.”
“I’m sure she does,” Aunt Willa said.
Mom must have sensed the tension growing to “red alert” levels and decided to change topics. “How is your dinner, Aunt Willa? Is the pot roast good?”
“You set a lovely table.”
I narrowed my eyes as my heart rolled and my foot itched to kick someone in their bony behind. No matter what you say about my mother and aunts, their cooking is beyond reproach. Aunt Willa was intent on being as obnoxious as possible … and I was pretty much at my limit.
“The pot roast is fantastic as usual,” Sam said, flinching when Aunt Willa turned her attention to him.
“And you own a lighthouse?” Aunt Willa asked.
Sam sighed. “I do.”
“Is there much money in that?”
“There’s more than enough for me to live on,” Sam replied. “I haven’t been in town all that long. I love the atmosphere and people, though. I wanted to stay, and I thought the Dandridge was a great opportunity. Plus, I met Clove. I think it was a good move.”
Clove beamed. “He’s done amazing things out there.”
“Clove has helped a great deal,” Sam said, patting her hand. “She put in all of my gardens.”
“And what do you do, Clove?”
Clove swallowed when the conversation shifted to her. “I own a magic shop downtown with Thistle. It’s called Hypnotic.”
“A magic shop?” Rosemary chortled. “Do you read tarot cards and palms, too?”
“We do a little of everything,” Thistle replied. “In case you haven’t noticed, Hemlock Cove is a magically-branded town. People come here because they like the fantastical and supernatural. That’s what we offer.”
“And you make a living doing that?”
“We do well. Thank you.”
“If you do so well, why are you all living in the guesthouse on the family property?” Aunt Willa asked. “I would think you’d want to strike out on your own.”
“That guesthouse is just sitting there,” Mom said, annoyance flashing in her eyes. “It’s perfect for the three of them until they decide to change things on their own. There’s no reason they should move if they don’t want to.”
“Why wouldn’t they want to?” Rosemary asked. “Aren’t children supposed to want to get away from their mothers and … great-aunts?”
“In your case I think that would be a given,” Landon said.
“What did you say?” Aunt Willa asked.
“He said you’re a witch with a B,” Aunt Tillie replied, spearing a hunk of pot roast and popping it into her mouth.
“I love the show,” one of the guests enthused. She was a middle-aged woman and her eyes sparkled as she glanced around the table. “Do you guys perform at every meal?”
“Only if you’re lucky,” Thistle answered, reaching for a slice of bread. “You picked a good week to be here, if that’s your thing, though.”
“Yay!” The woman clapped her hands.
>
“You know what, Tillie?” Aunt Willa gripped her knife so tightly her knuckles whitened. “You haven’t changed a bit since we were children. You were awful then and you’re still awful.”
“I can live with that,” Aunt Tillie said.
“Yes, but can everyone else?” Aunt Willa asked. “Look around. These people hate you.”
“I think you have Aunt Tillie confused with you,” Thistle said.
“Thistle,” Mom barked. “You’re being rude to your aunt.”
“So what?” Thistle tossed her napkin on the table and pushed back her chair. “I’m sorry, Winnie. I know this farce is important to you. It’s not important to me, though. I don’t know these people. I don’t want to know them. I just … it’s summer. We’re supposed to be having fun. This isn’t my idea of fun.”
Mom glanced to me for help, but Thistle’s words were greater motivation than my mother’s silent pleading.
“I’m with Thistle,” I said, tossing my own napkin on the table and glancing at Landon. “I know you love pot roast, but … .”
“The pizza is on me,” Landon said, hopping to his feet. He sent an apologetic look in Mom’s direction. “I really did try.”
“No, you didn’t,” Mom replied, folding her hands into her lap.
I focused on Aunt Tillie. “Do you want to come with us?”
Her answered surprised me. “Of course not,” she said. “I can’t torture Willa if I’m not here. I’m powerful, but that would suck the fun right out of my night.”
Oh, well, I should’ve seen that coming. “Just try to keep yourself from burning the house down,” I said, moving from the table and stopping at my mother’s side. “We’ll stop by for breakfast, but if things aren’t better … .”
“Just go,” Mom ordered. “I can’t even look at you right now.”
Seven
“What are you thinking about,” Landon murmured the next morning, tugging me closer to him as he situated the covers more snugly around us. “I can hear your mind working from here.”
I generally hate mornings – except when I get to wake up next to Landon. He’s always warm and cuddly. “I’m thinking that my mother is probably really upset.”
Landon sighed. “Bay, I love your mother, but … you can’t live your life on her terms,” he said. “Those women are horrible. You can see on their faces that they’re here to stir up trouble.”
“That’s what worries me.”
“You’re worried that they’re up to something? Join the club. I know they’re up to something. Until they make their intentions known, though, we’re in the dark. Being nice to those women isn’t going to propel them to tell us what they want. Being nice to them only hurts us.”
“You really hate them, don’t you?” I asked, running my finger down his cheek.
“I really hate anyone who goes after you,” Landon replied. “In case you missed it, I think you’re pretty great. I love you. You make me smile and I enjoy watching you laugh.”
“That’s pretty sweet.”
“I have my moments.”
“It’s also schmaltzy,” I said. “I didn’t know you were that schmaltzy.”
“I think you make me schmaltzy,” Landon said, tickling my ribs. “Don’t let your head get too big, though. You’re also a pain in the ass, and your family gives me heartburn.”
I sobered. “I’m sorry about all of this,” I said. “You came here for a relaxing weekend, and it’s been anything but relaxing. We have only two days left together before you have to leave again.”
“I don’t like leaving either,” Landon said. “I don’t really have a choice. I’ve been trying to get over here at least one day during the week, too. That’s how much I miss you.”
“What we really need is a case here in Hemlock Cove. Then you could stay and work at the same time.”
Landon grinned. “Please don’t go out and kill someone simply because you want me close,” he said. “As flattering as that would be, I would prefer not having to lock you up.”
“I’ll consider it. You’re pretty cute, though. It might be worth a murder to keep you around.”
Landon rolled on top of me, pressing his lips to mine to let me know what he had in mind. He pulled back long enough to study me for a moment. “Are we going up to the inn for breakfast?”
“Do you want to try to subsist on the crumbs in the toaster? That’s all we have for food.”
“Fine. We’ll go up there. Breakfast had better be good, though.”
“Isn’t it always?” I asked.
“Generally,” Landon said. “I’m going to need something to entice me to put up with those horrible people, though.”
“I gave you a naked massage last night.”
“And that was a nice start,” Landon said. “Now I want to give you a naked massage.”
“I guess I can live with that.”
“That’s good,” Landon said, moving his mouth to my neck. “This would be so much better if you smelled and tasted like bacon, though.”
Wait … was that an insult?
“I CAN’T believe Thistle and Marcus abandoned us,” I muttered, entering The Overlook through the back door an hour later. “Thistle said she actually would rather eat toast crumbs than risk breakfast up here.”
“Clove was the smart one,” Landon said. “She spent the night at the Dandridge, so she has a ready-made excuse for not being at breakfast.”
“Yeah, she lucked out there.”
“I’m just glad the inn is still standing,” Landon said. “Do you think we cut it close enough to mealtime to avoid an uncomfortable meeting with your mother in the kitchen?”
“Probably not.”
The back of the inn serves as private quarters for my mother and aunts. It’s accessible only through the kitchen, and guests wouldn’t dare enter. I wasn’t surprised to find Aunt Tillie sitting on the couch watching a morning news program. Her outfit did surprise me – although at this point nothing she wears should give me pause.
“What are you doing?” Landon asked.
Aunt Tillie, her combat helmet firmly in place, glanced up. “I’m deciding whether the world is going to end today.”
“Oh, well, I’m glad you’re not taking this to extremes or anything,” I said, smirking. “Where did you get those pants, by the way? I thought you gave up yoga pants.”
“These are not yoga pants,” Aunt Tillie countered. “They’re active wear.”
“That’s the same thing.”
“No, it’s not,” Aunt Tillie argued. “Yoga pants can be used only for yoga. I read it online somewhere. Active pants can be worn anywhere you want to be active.”
“I see,” I said, pursing my lips to keep from laughing. Her “active pants” had zombie faces on them. I looked a little closer and realized they also had faces of The Walking Dead heroes. That was her favorite show these days – she fancied herself the Daryl of our group – and she was biding her time until it came back on the air. “Is there a reason you’re wearing zombies on your active pants?”
“They fit my mood.”
“Are you saying you’re one of the walking dead or that you’re going to make Willa and Rosemary part of that tribe?” Landon asked. “I can’t hang around for breakfast if you’re going to kill someone.”
“He needs to give me time to hide the body,” Aunt Tillie said, winking.
“That’s exactly what I was thinking,” Landon said, widening his eyes to comical proportions.
I shifted my eyes to the kitchen door, my heart flopping. “Have you seen Mom this morning?”
“Are you asking whether she’s going to make you one of the walking dead?”
“I … .”
Aunt Tillie shook her head. “Your mother understands why you guys took off last night, even if she can’t admit it right now,” she said. “She doesn’t blame you. She’s not thrilled that you left her holding the bag – and by bag I mean that Willa has all the appeal of a bag of cat guts – but
she doesn’t blame you for leaving.”
That didn’t sound at all like my mother. “Did anything happen after we left?”
“It was a perfectly normal meal.”
That could mean anything. “What did you do?”
“I didn’t do anything,” Aunt Tillie protested. “I was on my best behavior.”
Landon barked out a laugh. “She did something,” he said. “Let’s go in and find out what it is. I want to eat as fast as possible and get out of here.”
“What do you want to do after breakfast?”
“Isn’t this town having a festival? In fact, isn’t this town always having a festival?”
I nodded. “We’ll go to the festival,” he said. “I’ll win you another stuffed animal. I think that story of no guy ever winning you a stuffed animal at a carnival is pathetic and now I want to win you one at every festival. We can eat junk food until we throw up. Then we won’t want to eat dinner, and we’ll have a handy excuse to live like monks for the rest of the night.”
“I see you have this all figured out.”
“He’s a pervert. Of course he has it all figured out,” Aunt Tillie supplied.
Landon glared at her. “You’re starting to bug me.”
“Then I haven’t been doing my job correctly,” Aunt Tillie shot back, climbing off the couch and shuffling toward the kitchen. “I should’ve passed the ‘start’ mark yesterday. Come on, pervert. I’m sure they have bacon, and you have a busy day planned.”
Landon watched her go, his face unreadable.
“I kind of like that you’re a pervert,” I offered.
He fought to keep a straight face … and ultimately lost. “What do you think your mother is going to say about those pants she’s wearing?”
“I think my mother is already overloaded. The pants might do her in.”
“Well, come on,” Landon said, grabbing my hand. “I need to see Willa’s face when she sees those pants.”
He wasn’t the only one.
We were the last to arrive in the dining room, and Mom scorched me with a look – which I decided to ignore – as the rest of the guests happily chatted. Aunt Willa was another story. She and Rosemary were quiet and composed, but there was a definite air of tension in the room as they stared at Aunt Tillie’s ensemble.
Life's a Witch Page 6
