Thistle While You Work
A Wicked Witches of the Midwest Short
Amanda M. Lee
WinchesterShaw Publications
Contents
Copyright
1. One
2. Two
3. Three
4. Four
5. Five
6. Six
7. Seven
8. Eight
9. Nine
10. Ten
Mailing List
About the Author
Books by Amanda M. Lee
Copyright © 2017 by Amanda M. Lee
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
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One
“I’m confused. If we’re supposed to do what the police say because we have to follow the rules but we’re also supposed to make sure ‘The Man’ doesn’t win, what happens when the ‘The Man’ tells us to do something?”
I arched an eyebrow as I glanced at Annie. She stood next to the antique shelf in the library, a book in her hand, and stared out the window at the blowing leaves. Nine years old and full of energy on most days, today she seemed more contemplative than anything else. She’s been dealing with a lot – including the fact that she can see and talk to ghosts – so I’ve been going out of my way to spend time with her whenever possible.
People say I’m hard to deal with – and they’re right – but for some reason I feel a maternal pull whenever I look at Annie. It’s a sobering thought, because before she came on the scene I wasn’t sure I ever wanted kids. She makes me doubt my earlier assertion … er, well, at least some of the time.
“I’m not sure what you’re asking,” I admitted, sliding a bookmark in the leather-bound book on my lap and turning my full attention to Annie. It was a cold and windy fall day – Halloween was only weeks away – and I was more than happy to be on babysitting duty instead of braving the elements to go work in the magic store I own with my cousin Clove.
“I’m saying that ‘The Man’ is out to get us, but he’s also the boss of us, Thistle.” Annie’s expression was somber. “What is it that Aunt Tillie says? There’s a flaw in the logic.”
She’s young, but she’s got the mind of a girl twice her age.
“How am I supposed to know?” I asked, hoping I didn’t sound cross. “I’m not as worried about ‘The Man’ as you and Aunt Tillie seem to be.”
“Yes, but you’re a witch.”
“I am a witch. That doesn’t mean I care about ‘The Man.’”
“You’re also my babysitter,” Annie pressed. “My mom always says that I’m supposed to ask an adult if I’m confused, and you’re the only adult around.”
Yup. That’s me. My name is Thistle Winchester and I’m a witch, storeowner, babysitter and apparently a fountain of useless information for young girls with endless amounts of curiosity. That’s if Annie Martin is to be believed, that is. She’s been living at the inn my mother and aunts run for months – ever since I found her on the street one day, dazed and confused from a car accident – and she’s as much a member of the family as the individuals I share genes and bloodlines with.
“I’m starting to regret agreeing to babysit,” I teased, poking her side and grabbing her around the waist so I could wrestle her to the couch. “You’re asking some really annoying questions.”
“Is that because you can’t answer them?”
I frowned. “You spend too much time with Aunt Tillie. You know that, right?”
Annie immediately started shaking her head. She adored Aunt Tillie. She loved everything about my cantankerous great-aunt, including her penchant for finding trouble and a mouth that refuses to quit even after the batteries have died. “Aunt Tillie is the bee’s knees.”
I stilled, surprised. “I’m sorry … what?”
“She’s the bee’s knees,” Annie repeated. “She told me that, so I know it’s true.”
In the grand scheme of things, being the “bee’s knees” was probably the most harmless tidbit Aunt Tillie had bestowed upon Annie since she joined our cozy family unit. The young girl was like a sponge, soaking up everything the women in my family said. Before joining us, she spent time on the run with her mother. It was a sad and lonely life. Now that she had people fighting to spend time with her she ate it up. She couldn’t get enough of everyone, and loved the fact that we all doted on her. She’d particularly taken a shine to Aunt Tillie. Sadly, my great-aunt can officially lay claim to the Worst Babysitter Ever title. She seems to derive great joy from filling Annie’s head with her version of The World According to Aunt Tillie. It’s turned into a problem once or twice … or ten times.
“Well, Aunt Tillie is more like Satan’s knees, but that’s hardly a cause for concern today,” I said, smiling as Annie rested her head against my shoulder. “Are you looking forward to Christmas? It’s only a few months away.”
Annie nodded. “I just hope Santa can find me here.”
“I promise that he’ll find you. He knows everything, right? He won’t forget where you live.”
“What if I don’t live here when it’s Christmas time?” Annie’s voice was so low I almost didn’t hear her.
I opened my mouth to ask where else she would live, but her mother, Belinda Martin, picked that moment to swoop through the front door and distract me. Bundled up, Belinda stomped her wet boots on the front rug as she removed her coat and hung it on the rack in the corner. It was only then that she noticed we were in the library and plastered a bright smile on her face as she shuffled into the room.
“I didn’t realize you were in here,” Belinda said. “I thought maybe you would be in the kitchen filling your face full of the cookies I saw Winnie baking when I left a few hours ago.”
“You said I couldn’t have any,” Annie reminded her mother.
“I said you couldn’t go overboard,” Belinda clarified. “One or two cookies won’t hurt you.”
“Now she tells me,” Annie grumbled, crossing her arms over her chest and causing me to smirk.
“How was your errand?” I asked, focusing my full attention on Belinda. In truth, I only got involved in her plight because I felt responsible for Annie. Finding her on the street, dehydrated and injured, jolted me. I was obsessed with helping her, and that meant helping Belinda as well. After her time in the hospital, though, I’d grown quite close to Belinda, too. She was a good person with a wonderful heart.
“It went well,” Belinda said, averting her gaze as she rubbed her hands together to warm them. “In fact, it went exceedingly well. It … was everything I hoped it would be.”
That was an odd reaction … especially because I thought she was running to the grocery store. “What’s going on?” I asked, leaning forward. I couldn’t help but be intrigued.
“Um, why do you think anything is going on?” Belinda is a terrible liar, and her lack of talent in that department was on full display.
I pushed Annie to a standing position with my hands on her waist. “You should go get those cookies before you forget,” I prodded.
Annie’s eyes were suspicious as her gaze bounced between her mother and me. “But … .”
“Your mom might change her mind,” I warned. Belinda would do nothing of the sort, but I wanted to talk to her alone in case Annie’s presence was holding her back. You had to be careful about what you said in front of the young girl b
ecause she repeated almost everything … and often at the worst possible time.
“Okay, but I know you just want to talk when I’m not around to listen,” Annie said.
I snorted. “How do you know that?”
“I’m not stupid.”
“You’re definitely not stupid.” I playfully swatted her arm as she scurried out of the room, waiting until I was sure she was far enough away that she couldn’t eavesdrop before continuing. “What’s going on, Belinda?”
Belinda heaved a weary sigh. “How do you know something is going on? Is that one of your witchy gifts?”
Belinda was aware of the family secret – the truth came out rather recently – but she didn’t seem bothered by our magical abilities. That didn’t mean she was entirely comfortable with them. She did seem happy to have us around when it came to Annie’s burgeoning ability, though. My cousin Bay has the same gift, and she’s been a miracle worker when it came to helping Annie navigate the uncertainty that goes along with talking to spirits that only a handful of people can see.
“I can tell by the way you’re acting.” I hoped I sounded kind rather than accusatory. I can never tell when I’ve crossed a line until it’s in my rearview mirror, and my go-to reaction is often snark. For some reason, that rubs people the wrong way. I have no idea why.
“And how am I acting?”
“Nervous.”
Belinda rubbed her forehead and cast a quick look into the hallway before shutting the door and sitting on the chair across from the couch. Whatever she was keeping to herself was big … and for some reason it filled my stomach with dread. What did Annie say about not being here for Christmas again? Could Belinda’s big secret be that she’s leaving? I know she’s been looking for a house, but … it’s too soon. Oh, crap! This is going to suck. I just know it.
“It’s just … I’ve been on a waiting list to take a class,” Belinda admitted, her expression rueful. “I know this might sound stupid to you because you’ve been running your own business since shortly after you graduated from high school, but I’ve been giving it a lot of thought, and I want to start my own cleaning business.”
I didn’t bother hiding my surprise. “That doesn’t sound stupid at all,” I argued. “In truth, given the fact that Hemlock Cove caters so heavily to tourists, it’s probably a great idea. I know everyone is always looking for help when it comes to cleaning their shops. There are a bunch of inns in the area, too, and they often need deep cleaning before a big event.”
“That’s exactly what I thought,” Belinda enthused. “I thought I could do a steady business and arrange my hours so that I work while Annie is in school. It will be an issue in the summer, but that’s months away and … well … I figured I would work that out later.
“I mean, I can always take her along on some shifts as long as the customers allow it,” she continued. “I might be able to find a responsible and reasonable babysitter, too.”
“Or you could leave her with us,” I suggested. “We’ll watch her for free and enjoy it. Everyone here loves her. We love you, too. Why are you so worried about bringing this up? Why are you hiding it?”
Belinda shrugged, holding her hands palms up. “Because I already have a job and you guys have been so kind to me that I don’t know how to put into words how grateful I am. I feel somehow … disloyal … for even considering this.”
“You can’t live your life based on what you think my family needs,” I pointed out. “You have to do what you think is best for yourself and Annie. What’s your plan?”
“Well, they’re holding a special class for small-business owners in Traverse City next week,” Belinda explained. “It’s at the college and it’s geared toward women. I was on a waiting list and got a call that I’d been accepted into the class after someone else dropped out.”
“That’s great.”
“But … how do I tell your mother and aunts that I’m considering leaving?” Belinda looked shredded at the prospect. “I love this place. I love all of you. What would’ve happened to me if you hadn’t been kind of enough to take us in? What would’ve happened to Annie if you didn’t watch her while I was in the hospital? I would’ve died in that car if you didn’t go out of your way to find me.”
“That doesn’t mean you’re beholden to us forever,” I told her. “You don’t owe us anything. You’re part of the family. I’m guessing you’re going to want to stay here while you work out the details in this – and everyone wants you to stay here, so don’t worry about that – and then you’ll decide how to progress once you’ve got a few months of work under your belt.”
“Yes, but how can I afford to stay here? I won’t have the money for that.”
I tilted my head to the side, confused. “I’m not sure I understand,” I hedged. “Why would you have to pay to stay here?”
“Because this is an inn,” Belinda replied. “I work here. Part of my wages go toward the room you gave us on the third floor. You girls also help with babysitting … and feed us … and have made it so Annie has the run of the house and never gets bored.”
“Why would that change?”
“Because I won’t be able to work here.” Belinda showed signs of frustration. “If I can’t work here, how am I going to afford the room?”
Things clicked into place, but I couldn’t help but wonder how long she’d twisted herself into knots over this scenario. “They can’t rent that room out anyway,” I reminded her. “It’s on the third floor. They’ll be fine with you starting your own business and staying here until you’ve saved up enough money for a down payment on a house.”
“But … will they really?” Belinda’s expressions warred between hope and misery. “What if they kick me out?”
I leaned forward, sympathetic, and gripped her hand. “I understand why you’re worked up about this, but I think you’re making yourself sick for no good reason. Has my mother done something to make you think she would kick you out for any reason? Have my aunts?
“Heck, Aunt Tillie doesn’t like anyone, but she’ll be devastated when you finally do move away because she adores Annie,” I continued. “You’re twisting yourself in knots over nothing. Trust me.”
“But … how am I supposed to tell them?”
“Tell them the truth,” I answered. “They’ll be happy for you. They’ll think this is a great idea. They’ll help you the best way they know how. That’s what they do. In truth, they’re probably going to help you so much that you’ll get annoyed with all of the help, no matter how well-meaning they all are.”
“I think they’re wonderful,” Belinda gushed. “You’re so lucky to have them in your life.”
“Yes, well, imagine being a teenager with them and then repeat that statement,” I teased, sobering as I returned to the topic at hand. “I promise everything will be okay. You can stay here as long as you want. Once you tell them what’s going on they’ll help no matter what.”
Belinda laughed sheepishly and pressed the heel of her hand against her forehead. “Do you think that will include watching Annie while I’m out of town for a few days? I don’t want to take her to Traverse City with me because she’ll be bored.”
“I think we can all take shifts with Annie and make it work,” I said. “I can take her to the store with me some afternoons. Aunt Tillie is annoyed that it’s cold, and she’s always looking for a partner in crime.
“The woman is a mean old bat when she wants to be, but she’s also loyal,” I continued. “She’ll never let anything happen to Annie. You know that.”
“I do know that.” Belinda sucked in a deep breath as she gripped her knees. “I probably should tell them now, huh? The longer I wait, the harder it’s going to be.”
“I’ll go with you,” I offered. “I think you’ll be surprised at how easy this is actually going to be.”
“I hope you’re right.”
I mustered an evil smile. “Haven’t you realized it yet? I’m always right.”
Belinda snorte
d. “You sounded like Aunt Tillie just then.”
My smile slipped. “That’s the meanest thing you’ve ever said to me.”
Now it was Belinda’s turn to beam. “I guess I really am part of the family, huh?”
“Most definitely.”
Two
“What a crock of crap!”
I arched an eyebrow and glanced over my shoulder as my cousin Clove showed Annie how to weigh herbs before bagging them. Belinda had left town for her conference the day before, which meant we were on Annie duty. In typical fashion, my Aunt Winnie stepped in and made up a chart so Annie was covered every moment of her day. Winnie is nothing if not organized. The problem with that approach is that nothing ever happens in a normal fashion when it comes to the Winchester witches, so the odds of sticking to the schedule were slim. It was still the first full day, though, which meant Annie headed to our magic shop, Hypnotic, as soon as she finished school for the afternoon. To keep her busy, Clove suggested giving her a few tasks. I thought it was a great idea. Annie, apparently, had other thoughts.
“Who taught you to say that?” Clove asked, leaning back as she widened her eyes. She sat cross-legged on the floor, her hand resting on her knee. The light caused the large stone in her engagement ring to glimmer, constantly catching my attention. I think she planned it that way. No, I’m not making it up. She’s annoying like that, and she’d been able to talk about nothing but her wedding plans since her boyfriend, Sam Cornell, popped the question several weeks ago.
“Say what?” Annie asked, her tone reflecting annoyance.
Clove has infinite patience sometimes – this being one of them – and she refused to engage the child in a snark competition. “That crock of crap stuff?”
“Who do you think?” I asked, snorting.
Clove ignored me and remained focused on Annie. “Who?”
“Aunt Tillie says it all of the time,” Annie said, adopting a tone of petulance. “I heard her say it last night when Landon stole the last cookie off the tray.”
Thistle While You Work: A Wicked Witches of the Midwest Short Page 1
