“Unlike you,” Bay mused. “You like to do naughty things, but Mom says you have a good heart. She says you have the best heart sometimes. She just wishes you weren’t so naughty.”
“I guess you get that from me, huh?” I teased, my eyes flashing. “I don’t generally consider myself naughty. It’s more that I’m … active … and I work faster than most people think. That makes me a genius of sorts.”
Thistle giggled so hard I thought she was going to snort her tea through her nose.
“I was being truthful,” I said.
“You’re so funny,” Thistle said. “I want to be just like you when I grow up … only meaner.”
I shot her an appraising look. “I think that’s the nicest thing you ever said to me.”
“Yeah? Well, don’t get used to it,” Thistle said. “I want a mean reputation like you.”
I stilled, the admission catching me off guard. “Do you really think I have a mean reputation?”
Thistle nodded. “People are afraid of you. I want them to be afraid of me, too.”
“I don’t think you have much to worry about there,” I said. “I heard the principal called your mother in at the end of the semester and told her that everyone in your class is frightened of you.”
“They’re easy, though,” Thistle said. “All I have to do is threaten to knock them down and make them cry to get them to do what I want. I need to start scaring adults. That’s what I’m really looking forward to doing.”
For the first time I realized exactly how much she reminded me of myself. I make jokes about it sometimes because I find it amusing, but perhaps her mother is right. I would never admit it to my nieces, but Thistle was clearly getting close to crossing a line from which she might not be able to return.
“Listen, mouth,” I said, choosing my words carefully. “I know you think it’s all fun and games to terrorize people – and it does have its merits, I’m not going to lie – but you don’t want to be so mean that you chase everyone away. It’s good to have a few people in your corner no matter who you are.”
Thistle didn’t look convinced. “You don’t have people in your corner.”
I arched a challenging eyebrow. “Oh, really? What about your mothers? What about the three of you? What about Officer Terry?”
“But … you fight with all of us,” Thistle said.
“Fighting is not the same as scaring everyone away,” I said. “Think about it, do you really want to go through life without the rest of us? If you continue down this path, you’re going to scare everyone away. You might not care about those twerps in your school, but I’m guessing you would be pretty sad if you scared away Bay and Clove.”
Thistle rubbed her cheek as she tilted her head and considered my words. “I don’t want to scare everyone away,” she said finally. “I also want to terrify people when I hate them and they’re evil. Can I do both?”
I smiled. “It’s a balancing act,” I said. “Something tells me you’re up to the challenge of balancing two worlds, though. Just … think about it.”
“Okay, but I’m still going to be mean to you when I feel like it,” Thistle hedged.
“I would expect nothing less.”
“IN THE name of the Goddess … what in the hell happened here?”
I lost track of time hanging out with the girls in the kitchen and before I realized what was happening I found Winnie, Marnie and Twila staring at the trashed room with what can only be described as outright fury. They held shopping bags in their hands as they gaped at the flour-covered counters and greased cookie sheets. Bay and Clove were just as messy as the counters.
“It’s not what you think,” I said hurriedly, racking my brain for an acceptable excuse. “We were attacked by a … flour gnome and it was so out of control I had to vanquish it. We just got through fighting it. Yeah, that’s it.”
Winnie made a disgusted face as she dropped her grocery bags on the floor. “A flour gnome? Do you really expect me to believe that?”
Was that a trick question? “Um … you tell me.”
“We know what you were doing,” Marnie said, resting her bags on the dining room table as she wrinkled her nose and stared at the mess. “You conned them into making you cookies for the contest. I just … what were you thinking?”
“Well, I certainly didn’t bribe them, if that’s what you’re asking,” I said. Wait … should I have said that? Probably not. That’s what happens when you add bourbon to your tea when no one is looking. This wouldn’t end well.
“She bribed you?” Winnie’s eyes widened as she locked gazes with Bay. “What did she give you?”
Bay looked caught. “Um … .”
“She told us she would help us find the dead body if we helped her make cookies,” Thistle replied, moving down a stool when I lashed out to slap her arm. She expected the move. “We thought it was a fair trade.”
“We?” Bay challenged. “You drank tea. You didn’t help with anything.”
“I was super … super … .” Thistle often grappled to find the right word to express what she was feeling.
“Supervising?” Twila suggested.
Thistle snapped her fingers. “Yeah, that’s it. I was supervising. Someone had to make sure Clove and Bay didn’t make a mistake.”
“I’m pretty sure that was my job,” I said dryly.
“Says the woman who thought we should use half a cup of salt,” Bay grumbled.
“I heard that,” I said.
“I wasn’t whispering,” Bay shot back.
“Okay, that’s enough of that,” Winnie said, grabbing Bay’s arm and tugging her away from the counter. “You need to go upstairs and take a bath. Wash all of that flour off. Dinner will be ready in an hour, so make sure you’re not late.”
“But we’re not done with the cookies,” Bay said. She’s something of a perfectionist, which I find fascinating. I never met a project I didn’t want to abandon halfway through it. Bay is the complete opposite. “We still have to put them in the oven.”
“I’ll finish the cookies,” Winnie said, her smile stretched and tight as she glanced at me.
“You need to go upstairs, too, Clove,” Marnie said. “Make sure you put those dirty clothes in the hamper instead of leaving them on the floor. You might draw mice in there if you’re not careful.”
Thistle moved to hop off the stool and follow her cousins, but Twila stopped her before she could take more than a couple of steps. “Where are you going?”
“Upstairs to get cleaned up,” Thistle replied.
“Oh, no,” Twila said, shaking her head. “You’re not dirty. Do you know what’s dirty?”
“Aunt Tillie’s mind?”
Twila pressed her lips together and shook her head.
“The kitchen is dirty,” Marnie said. “The kitchen is filthy, in fact. You two need to clean up the mess you made so we can cook dinner.”
I glanced over my shoulder. Who was the other half of the “two” she referenced? “Which two?”
“You and Thistle,” Winnie replied. “This was your idea and you sat there and watched them make a mess. You need to clean it up.”
Yeah, that really sounded nothing like me. “I’m good,” I said blithely.
“You’re not good,” Winnie countered. “If you don’t pick up this mess, you’re not getting any dinner. Do you understand?”
“Yes, but … .”
Marnie shook her head to cut me off. “No buts.”
“I’m not in the mood to clean,” Thistle said. “I think Aunt Tillie should do it alone.”
“We just had this discussion,” I growled.
Thistle ignored me. “I’m small and tired. I need a nap.”
“You need to clean if you want dinner,” Twila corrected. “Don’t you want dinner?”
Thistle shrugged. “It depends,” she replied. “What are we having?”
“What does that have to do with anything?” Winnie challenged.
“If it’s someth
ing I hate I’m going to choose the nap,” Thistle replied, not missing a beat. “If it’s something I like, I guess I’m going to clean. I won’t like it, though.”
Winnie made a disgusted face. “We’re having chicken legs marinated in red wine, mashed potatoes and corn.”
Thistle screwed up her face into a strange expression as she thought. “I think I’ll take a nap.”
“We’re also having red velvet cake,” Marnie added, causing Thistle’s smug smile to slip. “I believe that’s your favorite.”
“It is my favorite,” Thistle said. “Crap.”
“Yes, crap,” I agreed, reluctantly taking the towel Winnie handed in my direction. “I blame you for this, Thistle. You were supposed to be watching the clock.”
“And I blame you,” Thistle shot back. “You were supposed to be watching us.”
“And I blame both of you,” Winnie said. “I want this kitchen clean in twenty minutes. If it’s not, you guys aren’t going to get any cake.”
Well, that was a low blow. “I’m not going to put up with much more of this lip,” I warned. “You’re going to be sorry if you continue to cross me.”
“Me, too,” Thistle intoned.
Winnie didn’t look worried in the least. “Clean!”
Yeah, I’ve definitely been off my game when it comes to doling out punishments this week. I need to take a long look at my naughty list and start handling the biggest trouble spots. Unfortunately, I have to clean first. Blech.
I cast a curious look in Thistle’s direction as she packed the baking ingredients to carry to the pantry. “I think my eyes might start leaking soon,” I admitted.
“Join the club.”
Seven
I found the girls leaving their bedroom the next morning. They were instantly alert upon seeing me in their part of the house two days in a row. Suspicion runs deep when you have Winchester blood flowing through your veins. You’re born with it. You can’t hide from it.
“Are you going to punish us for yesterday?” Clove asked, her brown eyes reflecting worry. “If so, you should know that what happened yesterday wasn’t our fault. We did what we were supposed to do.”
“We did,” Bay said, bobbing her head.
“I didn’t, but you didn’t really think I was going to do it so it doesn’t matter,” Thistle said. She was strangely blasé for so early in the morning. Usually she’s grumpy and you can’t talk to her until she has some juice and food in her stomach. She gets that from me.
“No, I didn’t really expect you to do anything and you definitely held up your end of the bargain,” I said, following the girls down the hallway. “You did help clean the kitchen, though, so I guess that should count for something.”
“The only reason I did that was because Mom wouldn’t stop staring at me,” Thistle admitted. “It was as if she knew I was just waiting for her to look away so I could escape. I hate that about her.”
“Yes, that’s a mom thing,” I said. “My mother was the same way. I always thought I could put one over on her, but she managed to catch me every time.”
“What was your mom like?” Bay asked. She looked legitimately curious. “We’ve heard stories, but never got to meet her. We’ve seen photos, though. You don’t look like her.”
“No, your grandmother looked like her,” I said, my mind briefly drifting back to my childhood. I was genuinely fond of my sister Ginger and missed her a great deal. I saw some of her mannerisms reflected back at me when I looked at her daughters – Winnie, Marnie and Twila – but they had a lot of me in them, too. I wasn’t sure which traits were stronger – or better, for that matter. “It’s too bad you girls didn’t get to meet your grandmother. You would’ve liked her.”
I was surprisingly wistful this morning. My melancholy mood wasn’t lost on the youngest Winchesters.
“Do you miss her?” Clove asked.
“I do.”
“I wish I could’ve had a sister,” Clove said. “I would’ve been a great older sister. I would’ve tortured my little sister only fifty percent of the time.”
I smirked. “You have sisters,” I countered. “What do you think Bay and Thistle are?”
“Cousins.”
“Technically I guess you’re right,” I conceded. “You haven’t been raised as cousins, though. You’ve been raised as sisters. It doesn’t matter that you don’t share the same mother and father. You share the same heart.”
“That’s kind of gross when you think about it,” Clove said, descending the stairs. “If we all shared the same heart then we would be stuck together and that would give me nightmares.”
“Would it make your eyes leak?” I teased.
“Definitely.”
I found Marnie, Twila and Winnie standing behind the counter when we reached the kitchen. The usual morning cooking activities seemed to be underway – egg carton open on the counter, bread sitting next to the toaster, a slab of bacon in Marnie’s hand as she stared at the stove – but without the normal bustle that accompanied the items. I pursed my lips when I saw the blank look on Winnie’s face and feigned confusion. “What’s going on?”
“Why don’t I smell breakfast?” Thistle asked, alarmed. “Are your hands broken?”
“No,” Twila answered hurriedly, reaching for the bread. “We’re getting everything ready. We’re just running late today.”
“Really late,” I said, shuffling toward the coffee pot on the counter and pouring myself a mug of steaming caffeinated goodness as I made a big show of staring at the empty frying pans and toaster. “Are you girls sick?”
“Oh, I hope not,” Clove said. “If you all get sick, who will cook for us?”
“Not Aunt Tillie, that’s for sure,” Thistle intoned. “If you get sick, we’re going to starve.”
“And no one wants that,” I said, biting the inside of my cheek as Winnie’s puzzled expression turned to frustration. “Do you think you’re getting the flu?”
“Of course not,” Winnie said, snapping her head up and glaring at me. “We don’t get sick. We take care of ourselves.”
“We definitely take care of ourselves,” Marnie agreed.
“Then why isn’t breakfast ready?” I pressed, tugging a strand of Bay’s hair behind her ear and smoothing it into place. The girls take care of their own morning hygiene but sometimes they gloss over their hair in the winter because they know they end up wearing hats. “Breakfast is always ready when we come down. I mean … is something wrong?”
I knew I was in danger of overplaying my hand when Winnie narrowed her eyes and fixated on me. Her hand rested on the egg carton and I couldn’t help but wonder if she planned on hurling one at me. I knew she wouldn’t cook anything in the carton. I’d taken care of that. They couldn’t cook today no matter how hard they tried. In fact, the harder they tried, the more likely it would become that the knowledge of how to cook – even the basics – would seep out of their brains.
“What did you do?” Winnie hissed, the reality of the situation finally sinking in.
“What makes you think I did anything?” I asked, pasting my best “I’m innocent and you can’t attack me without proper proof” smile on my face.
“Because we can’t seem to remember how to cook breakfast,” Marnie answered. “Do you see those eggs? We know they’re eggs. We even know we’re supposed to cook them. We can’t remember how, though. It’s as if we’ve forgotten everything we know how to do.”
“That is terrible,” I clucked, sliding a sly look in Thistle’s direction. Her eyes were fixed on her mother’s face and she seemed to be in awe. “Did you fall and hit your head?”
“We didn’t hit anything,” Twila shot back. “We were absolutely fine last night. We made dinner and did the dishes. Everything was perfectly normal when we went to sleep.”
“Then we woke up and things still seemed fine,” Winnie said. “That lasted until we hit the kitchen. We pulled all of the food out of the refrigerator like normal and then … well, then we go
t stuck.”
“Oh, this is a total travesty,” I said, swallowing the urge to giggle. I wouldn’t truly be able to get under their skin if I didn’t play it straight. “Do you think it was something you ate?”
“I’ll bet it was the memory monster,” Clove said. “I think he lives in our closet.”
“The only thing living in your closet is the mess monster,” Marnie snapped. “It wasn’t something we ate. Aunt Tillie did this.”
“Oh, now, that’s a serious accusation,” I said, studying my stubby fingernails. “Do you have any proof?”
“We know it was you,” Winnie spat. “We’re not stupid. You gathered the girls before coming down. That means you didn’t want to risk running into us without backup. Do you think I’m stupid?”
“Now probably isn’t the time to ask me that question,” I replied. “I mean, with you forgetting how to cook eggs and all. Perhaps you should go to a doctor.”
“You’re in big trouble!” Winnie screeched, grabbing a spatula from the bin on the counter and brandishing it in my face. “You cursed us, didn’t you? This all comes back to us refusing to make you cookies to pass off as your own at the baking contest. Admit it.”
Gladly. “I warned you guys something bad was going to happen if you turned your back on your loving aunt,” I said. “Think about it. I raised you. I loved you. I took care of you. I paid for everything. What did you give me in return? Grief. That’s what.”
“Oh, that’s such a crock of crap,” Marnie said. “We love and take care of you just as much as you love and take care of us. This is a reciprocal relationship. It’s not all about you.”
Yeah, sometimes I think they don’t know me at all. What they do know they seem to twist to their own designs for some unknown reason. “I think this is probably a great lesson on karma,” I said. “What do you think, girls?”
“I think I’m hungry,” Bay said, rubbing her stomach.
“I think it’s funny, but I’m with Bay,” Thistle said. “What are we going to eat?”
“There!” Winnie waved the spatula in Thistle’s direction. She appeared to be growing more and more deranged by the second. “Did you hear that? What are they going to eat? You can’t let them starve, and we all know you’re not going to cook for them.”
Merry Witchmas: A Wicked Witches of the Midwest Short (Wicked Witches of the Midwest Shorts Book 10) Page 6
