Witching You Were Here (Wicked Witches of the Midwest Book 3)

by Lee, Amanda M.

  “It’s fine,” my mom gritted her teeth, placing her hand over Aunt Tillie’s to make sure she stayed seated. I couldn’t help but notice that Aunt Tillie was gripping her knife a little too tightly. Thankfully, it was just a butter knife. I didn’t think she could do too much damage with such a dull weapon.

  Ted looked around the table for an open place to sit. The only available spot was between Thistle and one of the slackers. Ted slid into the seat and started doling food out onto his plate immediately. It was a nervous gesture. “This smells great,” he said.

  I realized that my mom and aunts hadn’t said anything yet. They hadn’t greeted Ted. They hadn’t started him on fire either. That was a good sign. I think. Despite that fact, though, the silence at the table was deafening.

  “So,” I turned to the slackers. “What are you guys doing in town? Snowboarding?”

  “Yeah,” one of them nodded. “They have some gnarly hills out this way. How did you know?”

  Who says gnarly anymore?

  “I think your clothes tipped her off,” Aunt Tillie said unhappily. “And the fact that you call yourself Fudge.”

  “Sludge,” the kid corrected her.

  “That’s better?” Aunt Tillie didn’t look convinced.

  “Well, that sounds fun,” I said hurriedly, hoping to cut any more of Aunt Tillie’s insults off before they exited her mouth. I turned to the older couple. “What are you guys planning on doing while you’re in town?”

  “We’re antiquing,” the man said. “We like antiques.”

  “In the winter?”

  “We’re retired,” his wife explained. “We can antique all year.”

  That sounded fairly hellish. “Well, there are lots of great stores around here.”

  “That’s what we’ve heard,” the woman nodded happily.

  Back to silence. I glanced over at Landon for help. “Say something.”

  “I’m good,” he said, shoveling another forkful of food into his mouth. “This is really good, by the way.”

  “Yeah, Twila makes really good pot roast.”

  “She always did,” Ted said from his spot at the table. He didn’t raise his head when he spoke, but I couldn’t help but admire him for having the guts to not only show up at dinner but actually say something as well.

  “Thank you,” Twila said warily. She was quiet for another second and then turned to look at Ted with a bright smile. Sure it was a fake smile, but she was trying, at least. “How are you?”

  “I’m good,” he said.

  “That’s good,” Twila said. “That’s really good.”

  “What are you doing in town?” Aunt Tillie asked.

  “I’m helping some business partners find a piece of land for a new venture. They’ve been looking all over the area and I’ve been helping.”

  “What kind of venture?” Thistle asked curiously.

  Ted swallowed and took a sip from his glass of water. I couldn’t help but wonder if he was buying time so he could think of an answer. I pushed the thought out of my mind, though. That was ridiculous. Why would he do that?

  “They’re not a hundred percent sure yet,” Ted said. “I’m just supposed to find a bunch of empty buildings and show them to them when they come to town in a week or so.”

  “That doesn’t sound like a good way to run a business,” Marnie said pointedly.

  “I agree,” Ted said. “I wouldn’t be very successful if I told my clients that, though.” He winked, and I flashed back to the charming man I remembered from my childhood.

  “And are you? Successful, I mean?” Twila asked.

  “I’d like to think so,” Ted answered. “I’m not rich or anything, but I do okay.”

  “Well, how great for you,” Aunt Tillie said sarcastically. “Too bad you didn’t have the same success with your marriage.”

  “That was a long time ago,” Twila said. “Let’s not bring it up now.”

  “In front of guests,” Marnie muttered.

  My mom turned to Landon with a big smile – and an obvious agenda. “And how are you, Landon?”

  Landon paused with his fork halfway to his mouth. “I’m good,” he said warily.

  “That’s good,” my mom said. “I hear you’re working on a case here in town.”

  “I am.”

  “So you’ll be sticking around for awhile?”

  “I should be,” Landon replied. “I don’t live that far away anyway.”

  “You must have been busy then,” my mom said.

  “It’s been a busy couple of months,” Landon glanced over at me. I shrugged. I had no idea where she was going with this either.

  “That must be why you haven’t been able to get a haircut,” my mom said.

  “I like his hair,” Thistle interjected.

  “You would,” Twila said. “Look at your hair.”

  “Look who’s talking,” Thistle grumbled.

  “I like it, too,” I interjected.

  Landon slid me a lazy smile. “You like my hair, huh?”

  “It’s nice,” I said noncommittally. “It’s very hair like.”

  “If you’re about to steal something,” Aunt Tillie scoffed.

  Landon frowned. “I’m not generally the law-breaking type. No arrests on my record. No bootleg DVDs. No illegal wine-making endeavors.”

  “Just the heart-breaking type,” Aunt Tillie countered, ignoring his wine jab.

  I sucked in a breath.

  Landon put down his knife and fork and turned to Aunt Tillie brazenly. “Is there something you want to ask me?”

  Aunt Tillie looked surprised by his boldness. “I haven’t decided yet.”

  “Well, until you do, let’s go back to talking about Ted here,” Landon said.

  Aunt Tillie smiled – the first real smile of the meal. “That’s probably a good idea,” she said. “You’ll be around long enough for me to torture next time. If history holds, Ted will disappear when no one is looking and slink away.”

  Everyone at the table turned to watch Ted curiously. This was dinner theater at its finest for them, possible disaster for Thistle. They probably didn’t realize that, though.

  “You look really good, Tillie,” Ted said finally. “I’m glad to say that you’re holding up so well. You’ve helped take care of my daughter in my absence, and I’ll always be grateful for that.

  Well, that was an interesting tactic. It wouldn’t work, but he was obviously trying to distract her.

  “Someone had to take care of them,” Aunt Tillie said obstinately.

  “Even if you helped drive him away,” Thistle muttered.

  Uh-oh.

  “What did you say?” Aunt Tillie looked incensed.

  “I said, even if you helped drive him away,” Thistle repeated.

  “Who told you that?” Aunt Tillie turned on Twila as she asked the question. “What did you tell her?”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Twila said uncomfortably, never moving her eyes from her empty plate.

  “It’s no one’s fault but Ted’s that he left,” Marnie swooped in. “Blaming Aunt Tillie isn’t fair.”

  “Don’t you blame her for Warren leaving?” Thistle challenged.

  “No, I do not,” Marnie said stiffly.

  “That’s not what the family gossip mill says.”

  Landon leaned in closer to me. “This is about to get ugly, isn’t it?”

  “You have no idea.”

  “Really?” Aunt Tillie raised her eyebrows. “You all sit around and blame me for your husbands leaving?”

  My mom shot me an angry glare. “This is your fault,” she hissed.

  “How?”

  “You invited him here.”

  “It wasn’t just me,” I protested. “He’s Thistle’s father. She has a right to spend time with him if she wants to.”

  “And you thought a family dinner was the best way to reintroduce him?”

  “I certainly didn’t think it would be this bad.”


  “I think you just invited him so we wouldn’t focus on Landon.”

  A pang of guilt tugged at my heart. Is that what I had done? Pretty much. “Fine, this is all my fault,” I threw up my arms in defeat.

  “Oh, it’s not her fault,” Aunt Tillie protested. “It’s my fault. Everything that goes wrong around here is my fault. That’s why you took my wine closet. You’re trying to drive me to an early grave.”

  “You’re eighty-five,” Thistle shot back. “It’s not an early grave when you’re eighty-five.”

  “Well,” Aunt Tillie got to her legs shakily. “Maybe I’ll just end it all now and make everyone happy. I’ll put myself out of my misery and you can all go on your merry way.” She turned on her heel and strode angrily into the kitchen, leaving a wake of uncomfortable silence behind her. “You better get me a nice coffin,” she screeched form the kitchen when she was out of sight. “No particle board.”

  “She’s not really going to kill herself, is she?” Brian looked horrified.

  “No,” I said, shaking my head vehemently. “She’s just going to make us all wish we were dead instead.”

  “I’m opening the aspirin bottle right now!” Aunt Tillie was still screaming from the kitchen.

  Everyone watched the sliding door for a sign of her return – or another instance of Aunt Tillie drama -- but neither happened. “You’re sure, right?” Landon looked worried, despite himself.

  “Trust me, she’s been threatening to off herself since I was a kid,” I said. “When I was twelve she actually threatened to throw herself in the river if Thistle, Clove and I didn’t shut up. She said she wanted to drown out the sound of our voices.”

  “That’s a little different, I think,” Landon said.

  “Not really. She actually walked us down to the river and jumped in. We thought she was dead. “

  “Where was she?”

  “She swam to the other side of the river and hid in the reeds and watched us freak out.”

  “That sounds mean.”

  “It was. Once we had screamed ourselves hoarse she walked us back to the inn. She said it was worth it because we couldn’t talk anymore.”

  “So, you’re sure that she’s not killing herself in the kitchen?”

  “Absolutely.”

  “I’m taking six aspirin at the same time!” Aunt Tillie yelled from the kitchen again. “With a bottle of wine!”

  “She sounds serious,” Landon laughed. “Six aspirin couldn’t hurt her, right?”

  My mom exchanged glances with Marnie and Twila. We were all pretty sure this was just another attention grab. The problem was, Aunt Tillie was known to take things to extremes to prove a point.

  “Isn’t anyone going to come in here and make sure I’m not dead?” Aunt Tillie’s voice echoed from the kitchen.

  “See, I told you.”

  Landon chuckled to himself. “Have you guys considered putting her in a home?”

  “No home would take her,” I said as I watched my mom and aunts reluctantly get to their feet and go into the kitchen. “Her reputation precedes her, believe me.”

  “You wouldn’t really put her in a home, would you?” Landon watched me curiously for a reaction.

  “Not today,” I said grimly.

  “But some other day?”

  “Probably not,” I blew out a deep sigh. “It’s just one of those threats we pull out from time to time.”

  “So, it’s an empty threat.”

  Mostly.

  I glanced down the table and saw that everyone else was just sitting there and watching the door expectantly. I figured they thought more dinner theater would follow.

  “So,” one of the slackers finally spoke. “What’s for dessert?”

  “I’m guessing a big slice of humble pie,” Clove replied irritably.

  “Does that have apples?”

  Twelve

  The end of dinner couldn’t come fast enough. My mom and aunts managed to wrangle Aunt Tillie back to the table for dessert – but it sounded like a few things had been broken during the melee in the kitchen that followed their “intervention.”

  When she got back to the table, I couldn’t help but notice that Aunt Tillie seemed a little too happy with herself – which wasn’t an uncommon emotion coming from her.

  When most of the guests had cleared out, Thistle walked her dad to the front door. I couldn’t hear what they were saying, but Thistle didn’t look happy with the direction of the conversation. Whenever she used big gestures you just knew things were going downhill.

  Landon moved up behind me, watching the scene in the next room unfold for a few minutes before speaking. “Are you trying to read lips?”

  “No,” I scoffed. “Thistle will tell us what happened once she gets back to the house.”

  “Then what are you doing?”

  “Just making sure that everything is okay.”

  “Are you going to rush in there and beat him up if it looks like things are going south?”

  “I haven’t decided yet,” I said honestly.

  Landon chuckled. “I think Thistle is capable of taking care of herself.”

  “Yeah, maybe I’m here to make sure Uncle Teddy actually leaves the house,” I said. “There’s snow outside. It’s not so easy to hide a body when there’s snow.”

  Landon shook his head. “Come on. I’ll walk you home.”

  “I live on the property,” I reminded him.

  “It’s dark,” Landon countered.

  “Clove and Thistle will probably walk back with me.”

  “Thistle looks busy,” Landon replied smoothly. “And I don’t see Clove.”

  “She’s in the kitchen helping with dishes.” Which is where I should probably be.

  “So I’m helping you out,” Landon smiled. “I’m saving you from another uncomfortable encounter with your Aunt Tillie.”

  He had a point.

  “My coat is in the back,” I said, a hint of mischief on my face.

  “Where in the back?”

  “The living room.”

  “Where’s the living room?” Landon looked confused, glancing around at the various rooms of the inn that were visible.

  “Through the kitchen, in the family living quarters,” I said sweetly.

  Landon remained stoic, but I thought I saw a hint of the color wash from his face. “I guess I just assumed everyone lived in the rooms upstairs. I think I knew better, but for some reason I blocked it out.”

  “Nope,” I smirked. “They have their own area that’s only accessible through the kitchen.

  “So you’re saying that if I want to walk you home I have to see your family again?”

  “Yup.”

  “Let’s go,” Landon said resolutely.

  “You still want to walk me home, even knowing that?”

  “I still want to walk you home.”

  I shook my head but started moving towards the kitchen anyway. Part of me was going to enjoy this.

  When I opened the kitchen door, no one looked up from what they were doing. Landon followed me. I could tell he was nervous, but he was also set in the path he had chosen to take this evening. You had to admire him for his determination – especially in the face of the Winchester witches.

  “So, this is where all the magic happens.”

  My mom paused from the pan she was cleaning and looked up. If she was surprised to see Landon in the kitchen, she didn’t show it.

  “I guess it depends on the kind of magic you’re referring to,” she said carefully.

  Landon suddenly realized what he had initially said. “I was talking about the cooking,” he said hurriedly.

  “Of course you were,” Aunt Tillie said from her recliner.

  “It’s okay dear,” Twila patted him on the arm as she walked past. “You’ll get used to it.”

  “If he sticks around,” Aunt Tillie said pointedly.

  Landon fixed Aunt Tillie with an unreadable gaze. “I’m just going to walk Bay home.�
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  “She lives on the property,” Marnie pointed out.

  “I’ve noticed,” Landon said dryly.

  “I think it’s nice,” my mom said with a knowing smile.

  I led Landon through the rest of the kitchen and into the back of the house. He cast a final look over his shoulder before the door swung shut and then turned to me. “Why is your Aunt Tillie getting ready to sleep in a chair in the kitchen?”

  “If she doesn’t, she’s afraid that they’ll throw her recliner out because it’s old.”

  “Have they threatened to do that?”

  “They had it out at the curb when she found it and dragged it back inside two weeks ago.”

  “She dragged it back inside herself?”

  “Yeah, she’s stronger than she looks.”

  “I guess so.”

  I shrugged into my parka, letting Landon look around the living room curiously. He had his immovable cop face on. The home was cozy, warm and inviting – at least when Aunt Tillie wasn’t around. I wasn’t sure what he was looking for, but he seemed to have found something of interest. I watched out of the corner of my eye as he walked up to the wall of photos on the far side of the living room.

  I wandered up behind him and looked over his shoulder.

  “Some of these are really old,” he said.

  “Yeah,” I said, pointing to a black-and-white photo of a blonde woman that looked suspiciously like my mother. “That’s my grandmother.”

  “And what happened to her?”

  “She died when we were all really little,” I said.

  “Do you remember her?”

  “Not really,” I replied. “Aunt Tillie was always kind of our grandmother.”

  “Your evil grandmother?”

  “She’s not evil,” I said. “She’s got evil tendencies, but she’s not evil.”

  “You love her,” Landon said with a knowing smile.

  “Most of the time,” I acknowledged.

  “You love her all the time, even when she’s being difficult.”

  “She’s always being difficult,” I said.

  “She wouldn’t be Aunt Tillie if she wasn’t. Right?”

  “Pretty much,” I agreed.

  The walk back to the gatehouse only took a few minutes, but it seemed longer in the brisk night air. When we got there, Landon waited at the door expectantly. “Are you going to invite me in?”