“Look, Dolores … .” Thistle started with an edge in her tone, but quickly recovered. “Your name is Dolores, right? I think that’s what you told me when you came in.”
The woman nodded. “That’s right.”
“The thing is … um … everyone in town is magical,” Thistle lied, adopting a hokey tone she pulled out only when telling little white lies and tall tales for the customers. “It’s true that Aunt Tillie’s gift is stronger than most, but she’s hardly a special case.”
I found Thistle’s response interesting. She was trying to deflect attention from Aunt Tillie, which seemed completely unlike her. Aunt Tillie was annoyed by her fan club, so normally Thistle would encourage the fan club to increase its efforts just so she could sit back and watch the show. This was a strange development.
“That’s not what Mrs. Little said,” Dolores argued.
I stilled, my shoulders tightening, and shifted my eyes to the woman. She seemed sincere, almost as if she was mired in a bout of celebrity worship rather than visiting a tourist town with fake witches and wizards. “Mrs. Little?”
“She’s head of the tourist committee,” Dolores explained. “She’s the one we spoke with on the phone. We were very clear that we wanted real witches and not fake ones. She swore up and down that Hemlock Cove has real witches.”
Crud. Margaret Little was Aunt Tillie’s sworn enemy. No joke. If Aunt Tillie were a superhero, Mrs. Little would be the villain she has to fight to save the world from evil death rays and the like. She’s the Lex Luthor to Aunt Tillie’s Superman, the Joker to Aunt Tillie’s Batman, the falling ratings to Aunt Tillie’s Kardashian.
“Hemlock Cove is full of real witches,” Thistle said, wetting her lips. “Did Mrs. Little point you in Aunt Tillie’s direction for a specific reason?”
“She said that Tillie Winchester is the most powerful witch in the land and she never conducts demonstrations unless people show her the appropriate worship,” Dolores replied. “I want to make sure that I show the appropriate worship for a witch befitting Tillie’s stature. I already missed out on staying at The Overlook because it was booked solid by the time I called, so I want to make sure I handle the rest in the correct manner.”
“Uh-huh.” Thistle glanced at me, her expression unreadable. “And did Mrs. Little provide the appropriate way to worship Aunt Tillie?”
“Well, it’s a secret, but since you’re family you probably know.” Dolores winked for emphasis, but the gesture came off as creepy rather than charming.
“Yes, we know all about worshipping Aunt Tillie,” Thistle intoned. “Tell me exactly what Mrs. Little said … and don’t leave anything out. It’s an important ritual and I would hate for you to miss a step.”
“Okay. That sounds reasonable. How much time do you have?”
I internally groaned as I pressed my eyes shut. This wasn’t good. Aunt Tillie would blow a gasket when she found out what Mrs. Little was up to.
I VOLUNTEERED to pick up lunch shortly before noon. I thought Thistle would put up a fight, but she’d grown to enjoy her role as an Aunt Tillie expert. Instead of using her powers for good, which is what I would’ve done, she opted to play both sides against the middle. That essentially means she turned the visitors against Mrs. Little while also encouraging them to do things that would drive Aunt Tillie crazy. I couldn’t help but be relieved I no longer lived on the family property, because it was going to be all out war by the time Thistle was done.
I hummed to myself as I shuffled down the sidewalk, scuffing the bottom of my boots as I walked and enjoying the way the falling leaves crinkled as I stepped on them. The diner was only a few blocks away, and I was so lost in thought I didn’t realize I was about to run into someone until it was almost too late.
I turned swiftly, my fingers brushing the coin in my pocket as I struggled not to tip over the curb. As if by magic I regained my footing – something of a miracle, because I’m known as a klutz – and landed squarely on both feet. I recognized the person I almost hit from the previous day. It was the woman who had been robbed. I was almost positive her name was Nancy Jarvis.
“I’m so sorry,” I offered, horrified. “I didn’t even see you. Are you okay?”
The woman’s eyes were sad and vacant as she lifted them to my face. “I’m fine.” There was absolutely no life to her demeanor.
“I recognize you,” I said, my voice soft. “You probably don’t remember me, but I’m one of the people who found you on the sidewalk right after you were robbed.”
“I remember you,” Nancy said, forcing a tight-lipped smile. “You were very kind.”
“I wish I could’ve done more.” I chewed my bottom lip, uncertain. “Chief Terry said all of your Christmas gifts were stolen … along with your money.”
“Yes.” Nancy nodded. “I’m sure it didn’t seem like a lot of money to other people, but that five-hundred bucks was very important to me.”
“I’m sure it was.” My heart went out to her. She looked lost. “I can’t help you out with the money, but I could offer you kind of a trade. If you’re interested, that is.”
Nancy lifted an eyebrow, suspicious. “What kind of trade? I’m a mother and I don’t do anything kinky.”
“Not that,” I said hurriedly. “And ... eww. Do I look like the kind of person who does kinky stuff?”
Nancy shrugged. “It takes all kinds. I didn’t think a guy in a hoodie would rob me yesterday, and look how that turned out.”
“You have a point,” I conceded. “It’s just … I know that you were shopping for your daughter and that she likes gothic things. I own the store down that way. Hypnotic. It’s a magic shop, but we have a lot of different items for sale.”
“Yes, I saw it when I was shopping yesterday.” Nancy followed my finger with her eyes. “I was going to go in before … well, I guess that doesn’t really matter now. I have no Christmas gifts and no money.”
“That’s just it. I can help you with the Christmas gifts.”
“How?”
“I own that shop with my cousin and it’s supposed to be absolutely slammed this week because of a tour group,” I replied. “I figured if you worked a few shifts for us you could pick out some items for your daughter for Christmas and still have plenty of time to enjoy the festivities while you’re visiting Hemlock Cove. We have cool homemade candles and tarot cards. We have unique mortars and pestles, and hand-painted Ouija boards. It’s full of things teenagers would love.”
Nancy widened her eyes, her expression thoughtful as she glanced at the store. “You would do that?”
“I don’t see why not. You need Christmas gifts and we need help. It’s a nice trade-off.”
Instead of smiling, as I expected, Nancy’s eyes filled with tears. “I don’t know what to say.”
“Oh, please don’t cry.” My stomach twisted. “It was just a suggestion. I’m not trying to force you into doing anything you’re not comfortable with.”
“I’m not crying because I’m sad,” Nancy supplied. “I’m crying because that’s the nicest offer I’ve had in days. I would love to take you up on it.”
“Oh, well, great,” I said, recovering. “How about you come to the store tomorrow – let’s say about nine in the morning – and we’ll get started.”
“I can’t tell you how grateful I am for this.” Nancy grabbed my hand and gripped it tightly. “You’re a wonderful woman. You have a blinding flash of karma coming your way for this. I’m sure of it.”
I smiled as I watched her leave, amused. I know it’s wrong to pat yourself on the shoulder, but I couldn’t help but feel good about brightening Nancy Jarvis’ day. The emotion lasted only until I turned and found Chief Terry standing on the sidewalk behind me. He wasn’t alone. Landon Michaels, Bay’s boyfriend, stood next to him.
I found myself feeling defensive without understanding why. “What are you looking at?”
Chief Terry snorted as he shook his head, amused. “You.”
“I �
�� why?”
“Because we heard the tail end of that conversation,” Landon replied, his long dark hair brushing his shoulders as his eyes flashed with warmth. “You’re a very good person.”
I tilted my head, considering the words. “I try to be. I couldn’t offer her much, but I did my best.”
“I think what you offered her is plenty,” Chief Terry said, resting his hand on my shoulder. “You always were the sweetest member of your little trio. Er, well, other than when you went through that stretch of time where you constantly claimed your eyes leaked so you could manipulate me.”
Landon barked out a laugh, delighted. “Oh, I’ll bet she was cute when she was using her witchy powers of persuasion on you.”
Chief Terry made a disgusted face. “Picture her as an eight-year-old. She was even smaller then, and she could muster tears out of thin air. It was beyond frustrating.”
“I didn’t fake those tears,” I said. “I was really that sensitive.”
“Who do you think you’re snowing?” Chief Terry asked, tapping my nose. “I’m on to your shenanigans.”
I shrugged. “You were on to them even then, but you still let me cry.”
“You seemed to enjoy it,” Chief Terry said. “You were a good girl, for the most part. And I can chalk up almost all of your bad behavior to Tillie’s influence. I don’t blame you.”
“That was our intention.” I beamed when Chief Terry scowled and then focused on Landon. “Does Bay know you’re here? She’s been a little sad the past few days.”
Landon’s smile slipped. “What’s wrong with her? Is she sick? I just got into town. I haven’t seen her yet.”
“She’s not sick. She’s just … a girl.”
“I have no idea what that means.” Landon tugged a hand through his hair. “She’s been a girl since I met her.”
“She’s missed you, that’s all.” I didn’t bother hiding my smirk. “She’s lonely when you’re not around, especially ever since I moved out and Thistle is … well … Thistle.”
“Yes, Thistle is a true joy,” Landon muttered, shifting his eyes to the newspaper building. Bay’s car was parked in front, and he looked almost relieved to see it. “My boss sent me to help with The Hoodie Bandit, so I’ll be in town for a few days.”
I couldn’t help but be dubious. “The Hoodie Bandit? Seriously? The FBI sent an agent because a dude in a hoodie robbed a woman?”
“That’s what I said,” Chief Terry muttered dryly. “We all know Captain Fussypants here begged his boss to let him visit. He can’t seem to stay away from his blonde.”
“You say that like it’s a bad thing,” Landon replied. “I happen to love my blonde. I’m an independent person, though. I don’t need her constant companionship to function.”
I snorted, amused. “That’s almost exactly what Bay said. Then she proceeded to pout for what felt like days.”
Landon sighed. “I’ll go see her right now. We’re okay for a few minutes, right?”
Terry shrugged. “I don’t know. I think this hoodie bandit is clearly gearing up for a terrorist attack on Hemlock Cove. I think I need your constant attention. I’m not sure I can spare you.”
Landon’s knit his eyebrows, frustrated. “You only saying that to torture me.”
“I’m only saying that because I’m mildly curious what you’ll do,” Chief Terry admitted. “I’m fairly certain nothing will keep you from that newspaper building – or the editor inside – but I’ve always had a scientific mind and I enjoy conducting experiments.”
Landon heaved an exaggerated sigh. “Do you want me to beg?”
Chief Terry tilted his head to the side, considering. “Yes.”
Landon worked his jaw, his eyes flashing. He had a choice, and I couldn’t help but wonder which way he would go. Finally Landon gripped his hands together and forced a smile. “Do you mind if I stop at the newspaper and question the editor about any information she may have gleaned on our robber?”
Chief Terry barked out a laugh. “That was pretty slick the way you phrased that. Go ahead. If she’s upset, I want you to make her feel better … just not in a gross way.”
“No promises,” Landon shot back as he moved toward the building.
I watched him go, amused at the spring in his step. After a few seconds I turned my eyes back to Chief Terry and found him watching me. “What?”
He shook his head. “Nothing. You’re a good girl. You’re genuinely happy for Bay even though the situation has nothing to do with you. I like that about you. I always have.”
I blushed at the compliment. “I … thank you.”
“Oh, you’re still cute,” Chief Terry said, grinning. “Even when your eyes leak.”
I ignored the teasing and forced my mind to important matters. “Any leads on The Hoodie Bandit?”
“None so far. We have the Feds here now, though. Surely a crack agent like Landon Michaels can solve the case in no time flat.”
“You’re enjoying this far too much,” I chided him. “I think it’s cute.”
“Oh, I think it’s cute,” Chief Terry said. “That doesn’t mean I don’t like making fun of him. He makes it very easy.”
He did indeed.
Six
“You did what?” Thistle made a face as she crossed her legs at the ankles and glared at me.
“I offered to let Nancy Jarvis work for us in exchange for items from the shop.” I’d been proud of myself for going out of my way to help a person in need … right up until the moment Thistle made me feel like an idiot. She does that often, just for the record. Bay says I should stand up to her more often, but Bay makes me feel like an idiot on a regular basis, too, so I’m not sure I should trust her.
“But … why?”
“Because she was upset and I felt bad for her.”
“But we don’t even know her.”
“Last time I checked, I didn’t need to know someone to have empathy for them,” I pointed out. “She’s sad and afraid. If I can make her feel better, I’m going to do it. Besides, what does it matter? It’s a few candles and an Ouija board or something. It’s not as if it will break us.”
“I didn’t say it would break us.” Thistle’s eyes flashed. “I just … .” She broke off and held up her hands in defeat. I almost didn’t recognize the gesture because Thistle is the type of person who never admits defeat. “You know what? You’re right. We could use the help, and it’s a nice gesture. I don’t have a problem with it.”
I narrowed my eyes, suspicious. “Are you just saying that so you can turn it around on me later and make a big deal about it?”
“No. I’m saying it because it’s true.”
“It will mean good karma for us.” I’m an optimist at heart.
“And the Goddess knows I need good karma after the crap I pulled with those women earlier,” Thistle mused. “I wonder if Aunt Tillie has found out why those women are worshipping her.”
That was a pretty good question. “Are you going to tell her about Mrs. Little?”
Thistle answered without hesitation. “Yes.”
“Are you going to wait until those women drive Aunt Tillie around the bend and she’s threatening curses against people other than you?”
“Yes.”
“Are you enjoying this more than good karma rules allow?”
“Oh, yeah.” Thistle’s smile was lazy. “I can’t seem to stop myself from enjoying this. It’s like the perfect storm. Aunt Tillie is going to lose her mind and I’m going to swoop in at the exact right moment and tell her that Mrs. Little is responsible. She’ll be so furious she won’t be able to remember my part in all of this. It will be glorious.”
I had my doubts, but I didn’t bother admitting them to Thistle. It’s rare that she’s in a good mood, and I wanted to take advantage of the situation as much as possible. “So … you’re okay with Nancy working for us for a few days, right?”
“I am,” Thistle confirmed. “Perhaps this is your lucky coin coming i
nto play again. Maybe she’ll help us out of a bind when we’re busy, and we’ll help her make Christmas special for a teenager who probably doesn’t deserve anything more than a lump of coal in her stocking.”
“You don’t know that,” I protested. “For all we know Nancy’s daughter could be an absolute delight.”
“She’s a teenager.”
“So?”
“Think back to when we were teenagers.”
Crudsticks. I hate it when she has a point. “Fine. She’s probably a devil in disguise – if she even bothers to put on a disguise – but that doesn’t mean her mother doesn’t love her.”
“Of course not,” Thistle scoffed. “Our mothers loved us, and we certainly didn’t deserve it.”
“I always deserved it.”
“And that’s why everyone thinks you’re a kvetch.”
“No one but you thinks I’m a kvetch,” I snapped, my patience wearing thin.
“That’s not true. Everyone thinks you’re a kvetch.” Aunt Tillie appeared at the edge of the couch, almost as if teleporting to the location via magic – which is impossible, in case anyone is keeping score – and fixed me with a pointed look. “Why are you denying being a kvetch, by the way? That’s your thing. You should own it.”
I jolted at her sudden appearance, glancing over my shoulder to stare at the door. “How did you get in here?”
“I walked in through the front door.”
“But … the chimes over the door didn’t jangle,” I pointed out. “Shouldn’t they have jangled?”
Aunt Tillie held her hands palms up. “You’re asking the wrong person. I’m not an expert on wind chimes.”
“I guess we finally found something you can’t do professionally,” Thistle teased, her lips twitching. “Wind chime testing is out.”
“This one is a kvetch,” Aunt Tillie said, gesturing toward me. “You’re something worse, mouth. Now get off your lazy behind and lock the front door. I’m undercover. I can’t risk anyone stumbling across my location.”
Thistle didn’t make a move toward the door, instead furrowing her brow as she regarded Aunt Tillie. Our great-aunt has interesting taste in clothing, to put it mildly. She was dressed in muted colors today – black cargo pants and a matching T-shirt – and instead of standing out she faded into the background. That wasn’t like her at all.
Four-Leaf Clover: A Wicked Witches of the Midwest Short Page 5
