A Witch of a Time Page 38

  “They’re so cute,” Ginny said, smiling fondly at them.

  “Try living with them,” I shot back.

  Ginny brought the steaming hot chocolate and doughnuts to us a few minutes later. I watched her chat up each of the girls in turn, making sure to give everyone equal attention, and when she moved to walk away I stopped her with a hand on her arm.

  Ginny arched an eyebrow, surprised at the contact. We don’t spend much time together these days, and it’s rare for me to visit the bakery. “Is something wrong, Tillie?”

  “I don’t know,” I admitted. “Have you heard anything about Bernard Hill?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “He didn’t show up at the school pageant last night, and Terry doesn’t think he’s been home in at least a week,” I answered.

  “And his house is gross and there are bugs inside of it,” Thistle said.

  “And he has dirty underwear on his bedroom floor,” Clove added.

  “And how do you guys know that?” Ginny asked.

  “Aunt Tillie pushed me through the bedroom window so I could open the door and we could search his house,” Clove said. “I landed on the underwear. I’m going to have nightmares.”

  Ginny pursed her lips and glanced at me. “Is that true? Did you force those children to break into Bernard’s house? Tillie, what were you thinking?”

  “I didn’t force them to do anything,” I corrected. “They’re all up in arms about Santa not being at the town party. I was trying to make Christmas better for them. I was doing a good thing.”

  “She made us lie to Officer Terry,” Bay said. “We had to tell him we saw the door open from the street.”

  “You lied to Officer Terry?” Ginny was scandalized. “Do you really think that’s a good idea, Tillie? How did you know they’d lie and back your play?”

  “I’ve worked really hard on the lying lessons,” I said. “Bay and Thistle are naturals. Clove still needs some work. She pretended to have amnesia and cried. I found that to be more effective than the lying. It was a good lesson to learn.”

  Ginny scowled. “That is horrible.”

  “Oh, please,” I scoffed. “Terry knew they were lying. He told me as much. What does it matter? It’s not as though we tried to steal anything.”

  “Trust us. We don’t want what he had,” Thistle said, happily munching away on her doughnut.

  “Don’t talk with your mouth full,” I ordered. “It’s gross.”

  “You do it.”

  “It’s cute when I do it,” I said. “You guys all shut up for a second. I need to talk to Ginny and it’ll be a lot easier if you guys aren’t chattering at the same time.”

  “Seriously, you’re the worst babysitter ever,” Thistle said.

  “I’m going to have that put on a sweatshirt and wear it when I drop you three off at school wearing nothing else but a bathrobe and flip flops if you’re not careful,” I warned.

  “You don’t take us to school.”

  “I’ll start just so I can wear that outfit.”

  “Whatever,” Thistle said. “You’re crazy sometimes. Has anyone ever told you that?”

  “Only seventy-five percent of the people I meet,” I replied. “Eat your doughnut.” I focused back on Ginny. “Have you heard any rumors about Bernard?”

  “I know he was having a rough time of it,” Ginny replied. “He’s been depressed, but I didn’t think it was bad enough to off himself or run away. I don’t know what to tell you on that front. The holidays are hard for people when they’re alone.”

  My heart went out to her. She’d been alone for a long time, ever since her jerkoff husband disappeared without a trace years earlier. When I lost my husband, I thought I’d never get over it. I still love him, but having six girls to focus on – even if they’re complete and total pains sometimes – lessens that burden.

  “You’re always invited out to our house for Christmas dinner if you want,” I offered.

  “Thank you, but … I’m not sure I’m up for that,” Ginny said.

  “You won’t want to come to our house anyway,” Bay said. “Christmas is going to suck this year because there won’t be a Santa and there won’t be any snow.”

  “Didn’t I tell you I was going to fix both of those problems?” I challenged.

  “You’re going to make it snow?” Ginny looked dubious. “Since when can you control the weather?”

  “I’ve always been able to control the weather.”

  “The weather forecasters say there’s not a chance of snow between now and Christmas,” Ginny pointed out. “I don’t think you can bully the weather into doing what you want.”

  “Well, we’ll just see about that, won’t we?”

  Six

  “Well, you all look happy,” Marnie said, running her finger across the corner of Clove’s mouth as I ushered everyone back into the house after our doughnut extravaganza. “Chocolate?”

  “We had doughnuts and hot chocolate,” Clove said.

  “With sprinkles,” Thistle added.

  “Well, great,” Marnie said, making a face. “I love hearing that an hour before dinner.” She shot a pointed look in my direction. “Were you purposely trying to spoil their appetites?”

  I considered telling her I was rewarding them for lying to the police, but I figured that would be pushing my luck. “They were good and they deserved a treat. You put me in charge of them and I decided they needed doughnuts. If you don’t like it, don’t ask me to watch them again.”

  Marnie scowled. “Why can’t you be like all the other grandmothers in town and knit them scarves?”

  “Knit,” Thistle said, dissolving into giggles. “She doesn’t knit.”

  “I could knit,” I challenged.

  “We don’t want her to knit,” Bay said. “That would be horrible for everyone.”

  “How so?”

  “Then we’d have to wear what she knitted for us,” Bay pointed out. “Do you want to wear hats and scarves that Aunt Tillie made? Think about it.”

  “Listen, mouth, if I want to knit I’ll knit,” I said. “And if I do make you hats and scarves, you’ll love them.”

  The look Bay shot me was reminiscent of her mother – and not in a good way. “Whatever,” she said. “Can we watch cartoons until dinner?”

  Marnie nodded, pushing Bay’s hair from her face a moment so she could study her. While all my nieces favor their own daughter, they also love their nieces beyond reason. With Winnie off doing … whatever it is she was doing … Marnie obviously decided Bay needed attention.

  “Why do you look so sad?” Marnie asked.

  “I guess I’m just tired.”

  Marnie arched a challenging eyebrow. “Really? You should be hopped up on sugar and fighting with your cousins like you usually do this time of day. What’s really wrong?”

  “Nothing,” Bay replied, pulling her head away from Marnie. “We’re going to watch television.”

  “We made roast beef,” Marnie offered, knowing that’s one of Bay’s favorite meals. “We have mashed potatoes, corn, and chocolate cake, too.”

  Bay forced a smile for Marnie’s benefit, although I could tell my niece didn’t believe it any more than I did. “That sounds great.”

  Marnie watched the girls disappear into the bowels of the house and then turned to me. “Why is Bay so upset?”

  “I think she was born that way,” I said, my tone more blithe than I meant it to be.

  “Why really?”

  “Why do you think?” I asked. “She’s convinced that she’s going to have a miserable Christmas and she’s made the other two believe it, too. This whole Bernard-going-missing thing only adds to the bad attitude she’s been carrying around for months.”

  “What do you want us to do?” Marnie asked, her voice plaintive. “We cannot give them back what they lost. You know that as well as I do.”

  “What did they lose?”

  “Their … families.”

  I sighed. T
his was a subject we kept tiptoeing around. “They didn’t lose their family,” I corrected. “They lost their fathers. And they didn’t technically lose them. They still exist. It’s just a different family configuration.”

  “They’re too young to see that now,” Marnie said. “You can’t make them understand something they’re not equipped to understand. When they’re older, they’ll see this was the best decision for everyone because otherwise no one was going to be happy. There was too much fighting going on.”

  “I’m not arguing the point with you,” I said. “I think they’re going to be better off in the long run. The problem you have is the immediate future. They only know Christmas one way, and that’s the way they want to celebrate this year.”

  “We can’t fix that.”

  “I didn’t say you could,” I said, tugging on my limited patience so I didn’t blow up at Marnie. I knew she hurt, too. “We can’t give them the Christmas they want, but we can give them the Christmas they deserve.”

  “And what’s that going to include?” Marnie pressed. “They want a puppy. You’re adamant they can’t have a puppy. They want snow. We can’t make it snow. They want their fathers. We definitely can’t give them that.

  “Now Santa Claus has gone missing,” she continued. “For them, it’s like the world is stacking brick walls up and they’re waiting for those walls to fall in on them. No matter how safe we try to make them feel, this is their new reality, and we can’t chase all of their demons away.

  “They’re growing up,” Marnie said. “As much as I would like to wrap them in cotton to protect them from the world, we all know that isn’t possible.”

  It was a nice speech. It made me want to smack her. “Who raised you to think like that?”

  Marnie was taken aback. “How should I think?”

  “We’re witches,” I reminded her. “We can make the impossible possible.”

  “I don’t know what that means and I’m not sure I want to know what you’re up to,” Marnie said. “I know you want to give them a great Christmas. We all want that. We can’t give them everything they want, though. Sooner or later, they’ll have to get used to disappointment.”

  Over my dead body. “That’s not going to happen this year,” I vowed. “This year they’re going to get the Christmas they deserve.”

  “And how will that happen?” Marnie challenged. “Are you going to call to the four corners and make it snow? You’re powerful, but I don’t think you’re that powerful. Are you going to track down Bernard and make him appear as Santa? What if he’s dead? What if he doesn’t want to come back?

  “I love you,” she continued. “You’ve been the best mother to us that we could ever hope for. You stepped in when we needed you and I will be forever thankful. Despite your … quirks … you’ve also been a wonderful grandmother to our girls. You’re the only grandmother they’ve ever known. You can’t do everything, though. We can only do the best that we can.”

  “I guess you need a little lesson in magic, too,” I said, irritation bubbling up. “I can do whatever I want, and right now I want those girls to have a merry Christmas.”

  “I hope you can do everything you want to do,” Marnie said. “You’ll understand if I temper my enthusiasm and the girls’ expectations, though. There’s nothing worse than expecting to get the moon but getting only a star.”

  “We’ll just see about that,” I challenged.

  DINNER was morose and the more Bay sank into her self-made depression, the more I wanted to smack her. Winnie, Marnie and Twila split dish duty after the meal, and the girls wandered back into the living room to watch television.

  That’s when I made my move.

  I gathered all the magical supplies I needed from my bedroom and made my way outside. I don’t care what anyone says, I am strong enough to control the weather. If this were a Batman movie, I’d be the best super villain ever – and just wait until you see my cape.

  It took me almost an hour to complete my task, and when I finished, even I was impressed. I threw open the back door of the house and yelled inside.

  “Get your scrawny butts out here right now!”

  Winnie was the first through the door. I think she expected to find me in the middle of mayhem. In a way I was. It was the best mayhem ever, though.

  “What did you do?” Winnie asked, her eyes wide as she stepped into the accumulating snow and lifted her head to the heavens. “It’s … beautiful.”

  “I know.” Smugness only works on some people. Actually, it doesn’t work on most people. I’m the rare exception. “It’s pretty cool, huh?”

  “You made it snow,” Winnie said, flabbergasted. “How did you do it?”

  “I’m the most powerful witch in the Midwest,” I shot back. “I can’t believe you ever doubted me.”

  “It’s not that I doubted you,” Winnie said. “It’s just … thank you!”

  “You’re welcome,” I said, grudgingly accepting her hug. “You did doubt me, though.”

  “Let’s not get into that,” Winnie said. She turned back toward the house. “Come out here, girls! You’re never going to guess what your Aunt Tillie did for you.”

  Thistle was the first through the door, excitement positively rolling through her as she slid in the snow. She wore slippers and hadn’t bothered to put on a coat, but she was sneaky and evaded Twila’s hands as they tried to corral her.

  “Snow! It’s snowing!”

  I may be their curmudgeonly great-aunt, but even I couldn’t hide my smile at Thistle’s enthusiasm.

  “Young lady, you need your coat, hat and gloves,” Twila warned. “You’ll get pneumonia and die. Is that what you want right before Christmas?”

  Thistle responded by tossing a loosely packed snowball and hitting her mother in the face.

  “Holy crap!” Clove appeared in the doorway, her brown eyes wide as saucers. “I can’t believe this. It’s … snowing!”

  “Your Aunt Tillie did this,” Marnie said, choking up as she shot me a grateful smile. “This is your first Christmas present. Do you like it?”

  “It’s the best thing ever,” Clove said sincerely. “Thank you.”

  “Don’t thank me,” I said, my cheeks burning. “I … come out and play in it. That’s why I conjured it.”

  “I have to get my coat and gloves first,” Clove replied. “I don’t want to get sick.”

  Thistle hammered Clove with a snowball as Twila chased her around. “Thistle!”

  “I’m going to make you eat snow,” Clove warned, darting back inside. I had no doubt she’d return looking like the ghost of snowmen past and present.

  Bay was the last to appear in the doorway, and the marvel on her face was something I won’t soon forget. “It’s snowing.” The words were barely a whisper. “The people on the television said there was no chance it would snow. How did this happen?”

  “Your Aunt Tillie did it,” Winnie said, staring intently at her daughter. “She wanted you to have the best Christmas ever. Do you like it?”

  Bay turned her attention to me, and I swear she looked as if she would burst into tears. “I … .”

  “Don’t you even think about crying, little missy,” I warned, wagging a finger in her face. “Christmas isn’t for crying. Santa isn’t going to bring you any presents if you cry. You know that, right?”

  Bay collected herself. “I still don’t believe in Santa,” she said. “You can’t make me. I know the truth.”

  “Well, I guess you’re not getting anything good this year then,” I said, crossing my arms over my chest.

  “I said I didn’t believe in Santa,” Bay said. “I do believe in you, though.”

  For some odd reason a lump formed in my throat. “I believe in you, too,” I said. “You’re going to get your Christmas, Bay. This is only the first step. I’m going to find Bernard, and Santa will be at the town party. Everything will be okay.”

  “You can’t promise her you’re going to find Bernard,” Winnie whisp
ered. “You don’t know that.”

  “Did I make it snow?”

  “Yes, but … .”

  “Am I all powerful?”

  “Not last time I checked,” Winnie shot back. “If you were all powerful, you wouldn’t have to threaten the neighbor’s dog every time you go out to collect the mail.”

  “Just you wait, niece,” I said. “This is only the beginning.”

  Clove reappeared in the doorway, covered in so many layers of outdoor clothes I could barely see her. “Prepare to die, Thistle!”

  “Oh, I’m so scared,” Thistle scoffed. “I … .”

  I don’t know what convinced me to throw the snowball. She’s a child and I should take that into consideration whenever her antics get out of control. The look on her face when the snowball exploded against her cheek was priceless, though.

  “That was so mean!” Thistle screeched, wiping the leftover chunks from her face.

  “I think you had it coming,” I said, my grin wide.

  “I’m going to make you eat snow,” Thistle warned.

  “Not until you have a coat, gloves and hat on,” Twila said, snagging Thistle around the neck. “Inside right now, young lady! You’re not allowed out until you’re dressed for the weather.”

  Thistle put up a fight but ultimately gave in. I happily watched properly dressed Clove and Bay cavort until my attention was drawn to a figure moving up the sidewalk.

  Terry’s face was filled with as much wonder as Bay’s when she first saw the descending flakes.

  “Does someone want to explain this to me?” Terry asked.

  “It’s snowing,” Clove replied.

  “I know it’s snowing, Clove,” Terry said. “It’s snowing all over town. Do you want to know the interesting thing, though? It’s only snowing here in our town. The other towns around us are still dry. What do you make of that?”

  Clove shot Terry an impish grin and shrugged. “It’s a Christmas miracle.”

  “I’ll bet,” Terry said, turning his attention to me. “Is this part of saving Christmas?”

  “It’s a step in the right direction,” I replied, refusing to let his stern face dampen my fun.

  “You can’t just … make it snow,” Terry said. He was aware of our witchy gifts, even though he pretended to be in the dark. He couldn’t explain them so he opted to ignore them. “People are going to talk. This could make national headlines, Mrs. Winchester.”