A Witch of a Time Read online

  “Really?” Marcus looked hopeful.

  “Really,” I said. “Thistle isn’t afraid of hard work, and she has respect for people who work hard. Why don’t you tell her what you have planned and go from there.”

  “That’s probably the best way to go.” Marcus ran a hand through his long, blond hair. “What happens if we start fighting because we’re spending too much time together working?”

  Now that was something I could see. “Then gag her.”

  Marcus barked out a harsh laugh. “That’s an idea.” He sobered. “Are you really going to ask Bay to move in with you?”

  “Not right now,” I said. “She’s not ready. We’re still … feeling each other out on some stuff. I’m hoping that Clove pulls the trigger first and moves in with Sam. That will make things easier for me.

  “As the oldest, Bay feels she needs to take care of Clove and Thistle sometimes,” I said. “She doesn’t, for the record. I still think, because they were so close growing up, they’re always going to be close.”

  “You know, if Clove moves in with Sam, and Thistle and I do get engaged, you two could have the guesthouse all to yourselves,” Marcus said. “That might work out for both of you.”

  Well, that was an interesting thought, one I quickly pushed out of my head. “We’re not there yet. I’m happy with the way things are.”

  “Bay seems happy, too,” Marcus said. “She was sad a lot of the time when she was a kid, but she’s happy now. I think a lot of that is due to you.”

  “I forget you knew Bay as a kid,” I said. “You didn’t grow up here, though, did you?”

  “Kind of,” Marcus said. “I was here in elementary and middle school, and then my mother moved us south. I came back to town because I wanted to buy the stable from my uncle when he retired, and Mom wanted to move back to town, too. It seemed a natural fit.

  “Even when I was away from Hemlock Cove, though, I was still here over the summers,” he continued. “I would see Bay, Clove and Thistle running around town. They were always up to something, and it always looked fun.”

  “Did you hang out with them?”

  “Me? No way. I was too shy. Even then Thistle frightened me.”

  “You finally got the courage to ask her out, though,” I pointed out.

  “That was my bravest moment,” Marcus agreed. “It was also the smartest thing I ever did.”

  “I think you have a good head on your shoulders,” I said. “I believe you know exactly how to get what you want. Just … don’t push things. I have faith that things happen when they’re supposed to.”

  “Like meeting Bay?” Marcus teased.

  “Exactly like meeting Bay,” I said. “If I hadn’t gone undercover when I did, I never would have met her. If she hadn’t happened to be at the corn maze that day, she probably would have been only the odd woman I saw going into a corn maze in the middle of the night and didn’t follow.”

  “I don’t believe that,” Marcus said. “I think some things are destiny. I think Thistle and I are destiny, and I think you and Bay are, too.”

  “Destiny? I’m not sure I believe in destiny.”

  “Really?” Marcus arched an eyebrow. “You’re in love with a witch who talks to ghosts and who comes from a family of women who can make things happen out of thin air. If you don’t believe in magic, what are you doing here?”

  He had a point, and it was one I was reluctant to tackle. “I believe in magic,” I said. “It’s just … do you really believe there’s only one person out there for everyone?”

  “I don’t know,” Marcus said. “I do know I can’t imagine being with anyone other than Thistle. Can you imagine being with anyone other than Bay?”

  “No.”

  “Isn’t that destiny?”

  “I guess it is,” I said, considering the question. “I’ve never thought of it that way. You’re pretty smart sometimes.”

  “I know,” Marcus said, winking. “Don’t tell Thistle, though. I like her to think she’s in charge.”

  “Oh, please,” I said, laughing. “Thistle is definitely in charge.”

  “Or do I just let her think she is?”

  Now I wasn’t so sure. “You’re starting to scare me, man.”

  “I’m starting to scare myself,” Marcus admitted. “Come on. The house is this way. It’s abandoned now, so we should be able to look around without anyone bothering us.”

  “Are you going to tell Thistle about your business plans?”

  “I am,” Marcus said. “I just need to decide how I’m going to do it.”

  “I suggest chocolate martinis and candles.”

  “They’re already on my list.”

  I laughed. “And don’t get on Aunt Tillie’s list before you propose, and I think you’re golden.”

  “You’re not going to tell Bay, are you?”

  “Of course not,” I said. “I love Bay, but she’s got a huge mouth. There’s no way she wouldn’t let it slip to Thistle. Your secret is safe with me.”

  “Thanks,” Marcus said. “Your secret is safe with me, too.”

  “I don’t have a secret,” I said. “Not yet. I’m not asking Bay to move in until I think she’s ready, and I know she’s not ready yet. It will happen, but I’m content with the way things are. When it’s time I’ll know it.”

  “That’s because it’s destiny,” Marcus said.

  “Sometimes you talk like a woman,” I said. “How close are we?”

  “Close,” Marcus said. “This way.”

  I watched him move ahead of me on the path, my mind busy. Who knew Marcus was a dreamer at heart?

  Five

  “You didn’t find anything?”

  I studied Peg Mulder’s file, only half listening to Bay as she rummaged around the guesthouse kitchen with Thistle and Clove a few hours later. I muttered a reply. In my mind, I formed words. Apparently Bay didn’t think so. She stepped in front of me, hands on hips, and flicked the file.

  I ignored the first two times she did it. By the third, I was officially annoyed.

  “What?” I didn’t mean to snap at her, and the look on her face told me I’d surprised her with my harshness. “I’m sorry. What do you want?”

  “I wanted to know whether you found anything,” Bay said, her voice low.

  “No. I already told you that.” I waited for her to say something else. When she didn’t, I turned back to the file. “Is that all?”

  “I’m sorry to bother you,” Bay said, glaring at me. “I’ll leave you to … whatever is so very important to you.”

  Women drive me crazy. At work, there’s only one woman in the office. All the men there make sense. They understand when you need quiet to read something. Women are another story. On weekends, women surround me – well, Sam and Marcus, too – and the things they think or say rarely make sense. “Give me five minutes.”

  “Fine.”

  I recognized the tone. Sighing, I reluctantly closed the file and fixed Bay with my full attention. “Sweetie, do you need something?”

  “Why would I possibly need anything?”

  Great, now she was going to play petulant. “Because you seem to think I’m not paying attention to you.”

  “How can you possibly know that’s what I was thinking?” Bay asked.

  That was a trick question. “Because … I think I’ve been wrapped up in the file for too long when I clearly should be listening to what you’re saying.” That sounded like a safe answer.

  “Smooth,” Sam said, glancing up from the magazine he was reading. “Good answer.”

  “It was inspired,” Marcus agreed.

  Sam and Marcus may be men, but they know which specific woman they don’t want to upset: the one they’re dating. Marcus constantly lives on the edge with Thistle, and Sam has it easy with Clove. I’m somewhere in the middle – which makes Bay the really dangerous one. There was only one way to handle this. I needed to distract her. I reached up and snagged her around the waist, tumbled her into m
y lap and tickled her ribs until she giggled. “What were you saying, my queen?”

  “What do you want for dinner?”

  “Aren’t we going up to the inn?”

  Bay and Thistle exchanged a look.

  “What am I missing?” I asked, pinching the bridge of my nose.

  “You’re not missing anything,” Bay said. “It’s just … Aunt Tillie is really on the warpath about the kiln.”

  “So? Aunt Tillie is always on the warpath.”

  “We don’t want to be in her line of fire,” Thistle said. “If she’s going to curse someone, we feel it’s only fair to sacrifice our mothers. They’re the ones who refuse to have her committed.”

  I rested my cheek against Bay’s forehead for a moment, considering. “We could go out to one of the diners in town.”

  “We thought we would just order pizza and have chocolate martinis,” Clove said. “That’s what we were talking about when you were ignoring Bay.”

  Did I say Clove was the easy one? In some ways she’s the most manipulative. At least when you’re dealing with Thistle she puts it right out there. Clove sneaks in with her guerilla verbal attacks. “I was not ignoring Bay,” I replied. “I was going over the file again. I could never ignore Bay. She’s too cute.”

  Bay rolled her eyes at the compliment. “You’re such a charmer.”

  “I have my moments,” I agreed. “Pizza and martinis sound fine.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “I’m sure.”

  “I’ll order,” Thistle said, reaching for her phone. “I’m starving.”

  Bay moved to climb from my lap but I stilled her by tightening my arm around her waist. “Where are you going?”

  “To the kitchen.”

  “Oh, no,” I said. “You demanded my attention. Now you have it. You have to entertain me until the food arrives.”

  “What do you want me to do?” Bay’s blue eyes were quizzical.

  “I want you to tell me about séances.”

  “What? Why?” Now Bay was outright confused.

  “If Peg Mulder was murdered, wouldn’t it make sense she’s a ghost?” I asked. “Isn’t that how it usually works?”

  “Most people don’t come back as ghosts,” Bay said. “The percentage is actually pretty tiny. Hemlock Cove is small. If Peg was a ghost, I think I would have seen her over the years.”

  “And you’re sure you haven’t?”

  “I’m pretty sure,” Bay said. “This case is really getting to you, isn’t it? When you first got here you didn’t care. Now, twenty-four hours later, it’s all you can think about.”

  “Don’t worry, I’m thinking about you, too,” I said, tweaking her nose, “but the more I learn about this story, the more frustrated I get.”

  “Because her husband was a rampant jackass?”

  “Partially,” I conceded. “It’s hard to imagine someone being there one second and gone the next. Someone has to know where she is.”

  “Maybe John killed her and dumped her,” Bay suggested. “We would have to track him down and get him to confess, which seems unlikely unless he’s feeling really guilty.”

  “I put in a call to the main office and asked them to start a search for John Mulder,” I said. “I’m not sure when it’s going to come through, but it shouldn’t take too long.”

  “Are you going to leave when you get the information?”

  “I’m not leaving here until Monday morning,” I said. “Don’t worry about that. It’s just that … going out to that house this afternoon was sobering.”

  “Isn’t it abandoned?” Thistle asked.

  “It is,” I replied. “It’s extremely run down. You can tell someone took care of it way back when, though. It didn’t look like a place someone would abandon.”

  “You’re really stuck on it being a murder, aren’t you?” Sam asked.

  “I should say ‘no,’” I said. “We have no proof that it’s murder. Still … there’s something off.”

  “That’s why you want to conduct a séance,” Bay said. “You want to talk to Peg’s ghost and figure out whether you’re right.”

  “It’s not about me being right.”

  “Oh, look who you’re talking to,” Thistle scoffed. “We’re the queens of having to be right.”

  “If Peg Mulder isn’t a ghost, it’s only a waste of time, isn’t it?”

  “Not necessarily,” Bay hedged. “We have managed to communicate with a few spirits on the other side, but only if they were willing to cross back over.”

  “Who?”

  Bay and Thistle exchanged another look. “We haven’t done it in a long time,” Bay said.

  “The last time was in high school,” Thistle said.

  “I’ve seen you guys conduct séances,” I argued.

  “You saw us conduct séances to call ghosts who were stuck here,” Bay clarified. “Those are easy.”

  “We still always screw them up,” Clove said.

  I smirked. She hated séances. Bay and Thistle had to drag her kicking and screaming when it was time to conduct one. “Can we at least try?”

  “We can,” Bay said.

  “I would rather not,” Clove said.

  “You’ll be fine,” Thistle said. “We’ll be there, and the guys will watch your back. Nothing bad will happen.”

  “That’s what you said when we conjured Patricia Norton’s ghost in high school,” Clove said, crossing her arms over her chest. “No one wants that to happen again. I smelled like dirty water for a week.”

  Bay shuddered in my lap.

  “Who is Patricia Norton?” I asked.

  “She was this old woman who had a reputation for being really mean to kids when we were little,” Thistle said. “She died when we were in high school, so we got drunk and thought it would be a good idea to call her back over after she died.”

  “I’m guessing it wasn’t a good idea,” I said. “By the way, who was serving you guys under age?”

  “Are you honestly saying that you didn’t drink in high school?” Bay asked.

  “I’m saying we did it the normal way, by stealing from the refrigerators of our parents and paying a local bum to buy us liquor,” I said. “Something tells me you three didn’t have that problem.”

  “We stole from Aunt Tillie,” Thistle said.

  Clove glanced over her shoulder, as if making sure Aunt Tillie hadn’t managed to sneak in and eavesdrop. “We didn’t steal. We … borrowed.”

  “Oh, whatever,” Thistle said. “We totally stole from her. She caught us so many times I lost count.”

  “What did she do to you?” Marcus asked, intrigued.

  “Usually she just cursed us with the basics,” Bay said. “Our pants wouldn’t fit. We got tongue-tied when talking to boys. We’d blurt out strange things in the middle of conversations.”

  “Once she cursed us so that we had theme music whenever we entered a room,” Thistle interjected. “It took me forever to get the Facts of Life theme out of my head.”

  “That’s a better song than the Little House on the Prairie theme,” Clove grumbled. “At least your song had lyrics.”

  “Why the Little House on the Prairie theme?” Sam asked.

  “Aunt Tillie always thought Clove was a goody-goody,” Thistle said, smirking.

  “What was your theme?” I asked, poking Bay in the side.

  “The theme from Dallas.” Bay made a face. “It didn’t even have a dance beat.”

  “I don’t get it.”

  “Aunt Tillie always thought Bay was a drama queen,” Thistle said.

  I couldn’t stop myself from laughing. That made sense. “Why did you get the Facts of Life?” I asked.

  “Because she knew I hated that song,” Thistle said. “The best part was that she gave our mothers and herself theme songs for the week, too.”

  “Oh, I can’t wait to hear this,” Sam said, giddy.

  I couldn’t help but agree. “What were they?”

  “Marnie
’s was The Addams Family theme,” Bay said, smiling at the memory.

  “She was really angry,” Clove said.

  “Twila’s was The Golden Girls. She actually liked her song,” Bay said.

  “Aunt Winnie’s was Charlie’s Angels,” Thistle supplied.

  “Why?”

  “She was going through a weird hair-feathering phase,” Bay said. “Aunt Tillie hated her hair, and it was meant to make fun of it from afar. It worked, too. Mom cut her hair three days later.”

  “What was Aunt Tillie’s theme?” I asked, readying myself for the ultimate punch line.

  “The Greatest American Hero,” Thistle said. “She even took to wearing a cape.”

  And there it was. Stories like this are exactly why I love this family. I just can’t help myself.

  “DID we really need the blanket?” I asked, spreading an old comforter on the ground and watching as Marcus and Sam deposited copious amounts of liquor, glasses and an ice bucket on the corners. “Are we planning on staying out here long enough to drink all of that?”

  “It’s a nice night,” Bay said. “We might as well enjoy it.”

  She had a point. Still … . “Can’t we just drink in the guesthouse?”

  “Are you afraid of the woods?” Thistle teased, placing candles in a circle on top of the bluff.

  The land surrounding The Overlook is extensive, but when it comes to conducting magical rites the Winchesters always pick the same clearing. It’s mostly bare, except for some distinctive rock formations cut into the hillside. I’ve thought about asking why they insist on going to the same spot, but part of me is perfectly fine being left in the dark. I want to know some things. Knowing too much is dangerous, though. “I’m not afraid of the woods. I just know when to give the woods a healthy … respect.”

  Bay helped Thistle distribute candles, but she stilled long enough to send me a searching look. “Are you afraid of the woods?”

  “I’m not afraid of the woods!” This conversation was starting to get away from me.

  “Don’t worry,” Bay said, smiling. “I’ll protect you.”

  Marcus and Sam snickered, causing me to bristle. “I’m not afraid of the woods!”