I pursed my lips as I stared at his swinging hand. He didn’t automatically reach for me as he usually did. “I’m sorry.” I had no idea why I was apologizing. I didn’t say it, after all. I still felt guilty. “Don’t be angry.”
Landon’s expression softened. “I’m not angry. I’m just … tired. I think we should make a pact. We’re in this together. Fighting won’t do us any good. We need to remember that this isn’t real. This is simply something Aunt Tillie dreamed up to mess with us.”
“I believe I said that before we left the guesthouse.”
“Yeah, you’re kind of a know-it-all when you want to be,” Landon noted. “Let’s try to refrain from saying stuff like that, okay?”
I wanted to argue further, but my attention drifted to the backyard of The Overlook as we crested the final hill. I knew things would change a little, after all, but the sight that greeted me was straight out of a Star Trek episode.
“You have got to be kidding me.”
Landon snorted, amusement returning. “Oh, now this is more like it.”
There was so much going on it was hard to describe – and even harder to latch onto a memory so I could bring it up later when yelling at Aunt Tillie for forcing us through another night of literary hell. The inn looked relatively the same, though I was fairly certain the spinning thing on the back corner of the patio was a transporter of some kind. It made the same noise as the device in Aunt Tillie’s favorite Star Trek episodes, that’s for sure.
The greenhouse had tripled in size and featured a bevy of robots tending to the plants. Yes, robots. They looked like androids from a science fiction movie, but I wasn’t sure which one Aunt Tillie plucked them from. Thankfully they didn’t wander outside the greenhouse, instead remaining indoors to perform their tasks.
“It’s like she has robotic slave labor,” I muttered, rubbing the back of my neck.
“She has drones, too,” Landon said, pointing to the sky next to the inn. “Do you see those floating things? They’re drones.”
“I wonder why she thinks she needs them,” I mused.
“I’m almost afraid to find out,” Landon said. He grabbed my hand as we crossed the lawn, a familiar dark head drawing me toward a picnic table. Even though we were both at risk of losing our tempers, I was determined to do my very best to get out of this unscathed. And, if that wasn’t possible, I needed to minimize casualties.
“Clove?”
The woman at the end of the table turned, her expression quizzical as she looked me up and down. I’d recognize her anywhere, the dark hair and upturned nose never changing from when we were kids. The years had been kind to Clove. The look she shot me was not one of friendship, though.
“Do I know you?”
I faltered, unsure how to answer.
“This is Lois and Clark,” Grandma volunteered, causing me to grimace as I tried to refrain from groaning at the names.
“Well, at least I’m a superhero this time,” Landon murmured.
I squeezed his hand. “Yes, well … I don’t even know what to say about it, so I’m going to pretend it doesn’t bother me and hope that I actually start feeling that.”
“It’s better than Maude.”
“I actually prefer the name Maude.”
“You’re weird.”
I poked his side. “You’re weird.”
Landon smiled, the expression filling me with relief. “It’ll be okay,” he repeated. It was as if he sensed my worry. “I promise. Don’t get all … freaky … on me.”
“I’ll do my best.”
“That’s all I ask.”
Clove, her disdain evident, made an annoyed face. “You must be from the Upper Peninsula contingent. I believe you guys will be seated over there.” Clove vaguely waved to a picnic table across the way. She was so superior I wanted to punch her. Of course, she seemingly didn’t recognize me, which I was having trouble wrapping my head around.
“Are you here alone?” I asked, glancing around. If I ended up with three kids, odds were that Clove ended up with ten. Aunt Tillie said she was always in love with the idea of being in love. Besides that, Clove was always the most motherly of our little trio. I tended to ignore my dolls, and Thistle occasionally set hers on fire. At least Clove’s were always clean and clothed.
“Why do you want to know?” Clove narrowed her brown eyes suspiciously. “Who sent you over here? Was it Thistle?”
No, but I was really hoping she would pop up soon so I could get some answers. “I was just interested.”
“Well, I’m not here alone.” Clove had an arrogant way of carrying herself, and I didn’t miss the way she turned her purse so I could read the “Coach” label while she dug inside. “My husband and daughter are here.”
“Oh, really? Where?” Even though I knew it wasn’t real, I was mildly curious what Aunt Tillie did to Sam while dreaming up this scenario. He was her least favorite of our beaus – even preferring Landon to him – although she’d come around a bit in recent months.
“There.” Clove focused on her reflection as she pointed toward the patio. “He’s over there.”
“Where?” All I saw was a bald waiter with a tray. “Are you sure?”
Clove ripped her eyes from the mirror, made an impatient noise in the back of her throat and focused on the spot she indicated. “He’s right there. Are you blind?”
Agitation bubbled up. “What are you talking about?”
“Um … Bay.” Landon stared at the waiter. “Look closer.”
“At what?”
“The waiter.”
I did as instructed, frowning when I realized that the waiter – all two hundred and fifty pounds without a stitch of hair – was Sam. “What the … ?” I turned to Clove, accusatory. “You made Sam act as the waiter?”
“What?” Clove was barely interested in my part of the conversation. She was far too interested in her looks. “He’s not the waiter. He’s just hungry.”
Sure enough, when I risked a glance back at Sam he wasn’t delivering the hors d'oeuvres so much as shoveling them into his mouth.
“And you thought I was fat,” Landon said.
“I didn’t think you were fat. I didn’t care anyway. I’ll love you no matter what. If you didn’t notice, the other Bay was all wrinkled.”
“I didn’t notice.”
I shifted my eyes to him, convinced he was lying. He remained focused on Sam, though. If he was lying, he showed no sign of it. “You didn’t notice my wrinkles?”
Landon forced his eyes to me, amused. “No, sweetie. I did notice your hair was really long and you were still really pretty despite how mean you were.”
I pursed my lips. “That’s kind of sweet.”
“Thank you.” Landon pressed a kiss to the corner of my mouth. “Now is not the time to disappear into our mutual admiration society. We need to figure out what exactly is going on here. I mean … Sam is eating his weight in stuffed mushrooms and Clove is … I have no words for what she is.”
He had a point. Clove was … well … hmm?
“Horrible,” Landon supplied finally, finishing his own thought. “She’s horrible. In fact … .” He didn’t get a chance to finish his sentence because our daughters – er, the other Landon and Bay’s daughters – made a minor scene as they showed up at the edge of the property.
“Look who’s back,” I said, pointing.
Landon followed my finger, cringing when he saw they were dressed in matching teal dresses. “I think those dresses are a little skimpy.”
“They’re also incredibly ugly.”
“I can’t believe we let them out of the house like that.”
I didn’t think the dresses were all that skimpy. Ugly? Absolutely. Landon was a new father and being thrown into the deep end right off the bat, so I decided to let it slide. “What kind of party is this?”
Landon shrugged. “I think it’s a birthday party. There are balloons.”
“Where?”
Landon pointe
d. “They look like witches.”
“That makes sense.” I rolled my neck until it cracked, frowning when I saw another girl – this one about five feet tall with brown hair and dark eyes – approaching our girls. “You don’t think … .”
“I see you managed to find dresses at the thrift store, Sage,” the girl snarled dismissively.
“Who is that?” Landon asked, flabbergasted.
“It’s better than your dress from the short strippers collection at Macy’s,” Sage drawled. “How is your job as lead prostitute, Cinnamon?”
I raised my eyebrows, dumbfounded. “Cinnamon?” I risked a glance at Clove. “You named her Cinnamon?”
Clove didn’t seem bothered by the potential cat fight on the lawn. “Who are you again?”
“Lois and Clark,” Grandma offered helpfully. I’d almost forgotten she was with us.
“Don’t you think you should do something to stop that?” I asked, pointing at the girls. “They’re about to fight.”
“I believe you fought with your cousins when you were that age, didn’t you?”
“Yes, but … it wasn’t this sort of fight. In fact … .”
“You take that back, Sage,” Cinnamon snapped. “I am not a prostitute. I hear your mother is, though. Oh, and word on the street is that your father will do almost anything for a slice of bacon, so … .”
“Hey!” Landon glared at Cinnamon. “Bacon happens to be the best of all the breakfast foods.”
Cinnamon rolled her eyes. “You’re part of the Upper Peninsula group, right?”
“Absolutely not,” I shot back.
“Why do people keep asking us that?” Landon was genuinely curious. “Why do you keep having a negative reaction when they do?”
“Because it’s an insult.”
“Why?”
“Just … it is. Trust me.”
“Fine.” Landon blew out a sigh. “I can already tell I’m going to hate having teenagers, by the way. Just look at the way these girls treat each other. I can’t believe you survived this with Thistle and Clove.”
I balked. “We didn’t talk to each other that way. We fought a bit and there was a lot of dirt eating going on, but we never spoke to one another like that.”
“So what’s the deal here?”
I held my hands palms up and shrugged. “I have absolutely no idea.”
“I won’t take it back, no matter what you say,” Sage exploded, her fingers lighting with wisps of colored fire as she shot a bolt of magic in Cinnamon’s direction. “I hope you get fleas!”
“What the … ?” Landon moved toward the girl, his face twisted.
“Don’t.” I grabbed his arm and dragged him back.
“She’s going to hurt Cinnamon.”
“Wait.” I focused on Clove’s daughter, cringing when I saw her lift her own fingers, a bit of blue magic kindling. “Oh, crap! This isn’t going to be good.”
“What?” Landon instinctively covered my head. “What is it?”
“Just … watch.”
“I hope you get chlamydia!” Cinnamon bellowed, whipping the magic at Sage and puffing out her chest in triumph when it smacked the other girl in the chest. “I will make you pay for every terrible thing you’ve ever done to me.”
“Oh, stuff it,” Sage shot back. “You’re on my list!”
“And mine,” Sumac interjected. “You’re on my list, too.”
Cinnamon made a face. “Oh, no one cares.”
“What the heck is this?” Landon was beside himself. “It’s like Witch War III out here.”
“This is what happens when you don’t spend Christmas with your family,” a solemn voice said from behind us. I recognized it right away.
“You’re in big trouble, Aunt Tillie!” I swiveled, my finger extended, and then did the biggest double take imaginable. “Are you kidding me? You look exactly the same. How is that even possible?”
Gifts are nice, but I would rather have an entire day with nothing but your company … and bacon. We both know I can’t have Christmas without bacon.
– Landon getting romantic under the mistletoe
Fifteen
“Good afternoon,” Aunt Tillie said, her grin evil. She wore a pair of metallic cargo pants with a matching garden hat instead of the hat she usually wore, which had scissors sticking out of it. This one had what looked to be a laser gun firmly affixed to the brim. “Thank you so much for attending my birthday celebration.”
“You look exactly the same,” I repeated.
“She actually looks younger,” Landon commented. “In fact, she looks as if she’s aging in reverse.”
“That’s because I get stronger with age,” Aunt Tillie explained. “Soon I’ll look better than Bay.”
“Hey!”
“You have to admit, the years haven’t been all that kind to you,” Aunt Tillie noted. “You should’ve listened to me and embraced your evil side while younger. It’s too late to reverse the signs of aging now.”
Landon leaned closer. “Is she saying that evil makes you younger?”
I nodded. “Pretty much. She’s always told us that.”
“Look at me.” Aunt Tillie did a little twirl for our benefit. “I clearly know what I’m talking about.”
“Oh, whatever.” I crossed my arms over my chest.
“I hope you get a club foot!” Sumac screeched in the background. I had no idea who she was cursing, but it was a good bet Cinnamon would be a walking disease factory by the end of the afternoon. “Aren’t you going to do something about that?”
Aunt Tillie glanced over her shoulder, blasé. “What would you like me to do? They’ve been that way since they were little and Sage shoved a pile of dirt into Cinnamon’s mouth. That pile just happened to include some worms, which she accidentally swallowed. Then they laid eggs and Cinnamon had to be treated for an invasive worm infestation. It was in all the newspapers because the doctors briefly thought it was some sort of alien invasion. If you ask me, she’s right to take her revenge.”
Grandma’s mouth dropped open. “That is horrible! How did she survive such a trying ordeal?”
I didn’t bother to hide my eye roll. “That didn’t happen. She’s making it up.”
“You don’t know that it didn’t happen,” Aunt Tillie challenged. “It did happen. I know. This is the future. Are you from the future? I didn’t think so. I’m from the future. I know.”
I had my doubts. “I think you’re from the present, and the reason you sent Grandma to be our guide is because you have a special role to play in … whatever it is you have planned here.”
“And you’re a whiny whiner,” Aunt Tillie shot back. “No one cares what you think.” She turned her full attention to Grandma. “You look wonderful! I’m so happy to see you.”
“You look wonderful, too,” Grandma enthused. “I’m so happy to see you!” She threw her arms around Aunt Tillie’s neck.
Even though she wasn’t much of a hugger – when we were little she was more the pat-on-the-head type – Aunt Tillie returned the hug. “I’m glad you could be a part of this.”
I watched them a moment, wonder flowing through me. I always imagined what Aunt Tillie would be like if Grandma survived. I figured she wouldn’t be quite so cantankerous, quite so bossy and nowhere near as mean. Still, as great as the moment was, we had other things to deal with.
“Why are we here?” I asked. “What lesson are we supposed to learn from this?”
“You will drown in buckets of blood and an attack of genital warts,” Cinnamon screamed, ducking behind a tree as she let loose another bolt of magic.
“Oh, and why do they have the ability to conjure the equivalent of magic grenades to throw at one another?” I added.
“It’s the future,” Aunt Tillie explained dryly. “Things change when you go into the future.”
She sounded as if she was trying to convince herself as well as me. “Fine. Whatever. They’re not real anyway.”
“You’d like
to think that, wouldn’t you?”
“There’s no way I would ever name my kids Sumac and Saffron.”
“Those are lovely names!”
“They’re stupid names,” Landon corrected. “I kind of like the name Sage, though. It’s cute.”
I narrowed my eyes. “Don’t you think we should focus on the important stuff?”
“I’m just saying that Sage is kind of a cute name,” Landon said. “It’s … sweet. The dress she’s wearing is indecent, though. I blame the witch influence.”
“Oh, whatever.” Now he was just trying to be difficult. “Aunt Tillie, we’re here. We’ve played along with your games for hours. Just tell us what you want and we’ll do it. We’re ready to get out of here.”
“And here I thought we were having fun,” Grandma pouted.
“Oh, geez.” I pinched the bridge of my nose and stared at the sky, tilting my head to the side when I realized I was looking at multiple suns. “Why do we suddenly have two suns?”
“There was an explosion in space ten years ago,” Aunt Tillie explained. “Two alien races decided to help, but neither knew the other race was stealing an extra sun from an adjacent galaxy. They both arrived in the nick of time to save us. We didn’t want to be ungrateful, so we accepted them both. Now, instead of the Fourth of July we celebrate Twin Suns Day. It’s quite the planetary festival.”
“Oh, that’s not a thing,” I complained. “If the sun exploded we’d die right away.”
“Are you a scientist?” Aunt Tillie planted her hands on her hips.
“No. Are you?”
“I might as well be one,” Aunt Tillie replied. “I watch enough Star Trek to know what is and what is not possible. This is totally possible.”
“So you are kind of like a scientist,” Landon said.
“I could totally do it professionally,” Aunt Tillie agreed.
“This is like a hodgepodge of weird stuff that I don’t even know how to accept,” I muttered, rubbing my forehead. “Aunt Tillie, tell us what you want us to do.”
“That’s not how this works, and you know it,” Aunt Tillie argued. “You have to figure out why you’re here on your own.”
A Witchmas Carol Page 14
