4 Witching On A Star Page 4

  Oh, good grief. He was so scared of Aunt Tillie he was worried about what I would tell her. “The company is always colorful,” I agreed.

  Thankfully, for all of us, the uncomfortable conversation was interrupted by the sound of something falling in the laundry room.

  “What was that?” Warren asked curiously, moving towards the door.

  The minute he had it open, I wasn’t surprised to see a familiar figure trying to flee out the back door. Thistle caught sight of her at the same time I did. “Aunt Tillie?”

  Aunt Tillie froze when she heard her name and then straightened before she turned around. “What?”

  “What are you doing here?”

  Warren was regarding Aunt Tillie with cold curiosity and flagrant fear. I couldn’t help but wonder if this was the first time he’d seen her since he’d been back in town. This was a great way for them to reconnect, an emotional firestorm.

  Aunt Tillie opened her mouth and then shut it. She was trying to think of an acceptable lie. I knew exactly what she was doing here. Spying. “Are you lost?”

  Aunt Tillie fixed me with a cold stare. “Are you?”

  “No, I know exactly where I am,” I replied.

  “So do I,” Aunt Tillie shot back.

  “That doesn’t explain what you’re doing here,” Thistle interjected blandly.

  Aunt Tillie pursed her lips. “I was looking for the three of you,” she said finally.

  “Why?”

  “I thought you would be out at the inn for dinner,” she said, sliding into her lie comfortably. “When you didn’t show up, I got worried.”

  “Why didn’t you call?” Clove asked.

  “I didn’t think of that,” Aunt Tillie said evasively. “You know, when you get old, things like that don’t naturally occur to you.”

  It’s funny. Aunt Tillie is only old when it suits her purposes.

  My father moved to Aunt Tillie’s side warily. “We were about to have dinner. Would you like to join us?”

  Aunt Tillie looked surprised at the invitation. Then she looked intrigued at the opportunity for reconnaissance. “That sounds like a great idea, Jack,” she said. “Thank you for treating an old woman with such kindness and respect.”

  Thistle and I rolled our eyes.

  “What are we having?”

  “We ordered Chinese,” Teddy said nervously.

  Aunt Tillie turned to him irritably. “I don’t like Chinese.”

  Teddy looked panicked. “We can order something else. What do you want?”

  “She’ll eat Chinese,” Thistle said firmly, grabbing Aunt Tillie’s arm and directing her towards the dining room. “Won’t you?”

  “I don’t like Chinese.”

  “It’s meat and vegetables,” Thistle said. “You like meat and vegetables.”

  “In a stew, not a stir fry.”

  “You’ll live,” Thistle gritted her teeth. “You weren’t supposed to be here and yet you still got invited to dinner. You’ll live.”

  “That’s not how you talk to your elders,” Aunt Tillie warned her.

  “When you invade someone else’s personal sanctum, you eat what they’re serving,” Thistle practically growled, dragging her from the room.

  Once they were gone, my dad turned to me. “Well, your Aunt Tillie was always . . . entertaining.”

  I blew out a sigh. “Evil, entertaining, you can look at it both ways.”

  I glanced over at Karen, who seemed to be amused by the situation more than anything else. “She seems fun,” she said brightly.

  “Just give it time.”

  “What?” Karen turned to me, her face blank.

  “Nothing,” I said finally. “I think you would enjoy sitting next to her at dinner, though. She loves entertaining new people.”

  Warren looked horrified by the suggestion, but I ignored his fleeting look.

  “I would love to.”

  Once Karen had followed Thistle and Aunt Tillie out of the room, I turned to my dad. “I’m sorry about this.”

  “That’s fine,” my dad waved off my apology. “She was just worried about you guys.”

  Clove and I glanced at each other dubiously. There was no way we were going to tell him what she was really doing here. They’d probably figured it out on their own anyways.

  “Yeah, that’s Aunt Tillie,” I finally agreed. “Always looking out for us.”

  “When’s the food getting here?” Aunt Tillie bellowed from the other room. “Are you trying to starve an old woman?”

  This was going to be a really long dinner.

  Five

  “What were you thinking?”

  We were standing in front of the gatehouse after what can only be described as a disastrous dinner and Aunt Tillie was doing everything in her power to avoid hard questions.

  “I don’t think I like your tone,” Aunt Tillie placed her hands on her hips and glared at Thistle angrily.

  “You don’t like my tone?” Thistle looked incredulous. “You were out there spying and you don’t like my tone?”

  “How come when you were out there spying it was okay?” Aunt Tillie challenged Thistle. “But when I’m out there checking on the wellbeing of my family, it’s somehow something terrible?”

  “Checking on our wellbeing? You’re such a liar,” Thistle grumbled. “You probably didn’t even know we were out there.”

  “What were you doing out there?” Aunt Tillie was trying to turn this around. I didn’t blame her.

  “Having dinner,” Thistle shot back. “What were you doing out there?”

  “I was at the same meal as the three of you,” Aunt Tillie sniffed. “I was having dinner, too.”

  You really had to give her credit; she wouldn’t ever admit her culpability, even when directly caught doing something wrong. “Did you find what you were looking for?” I asked.

  “I found the three of you, so I guess so. You’re home. You’re safe. That’s all that really matters.”

  “Oh, that’s rich,” Thistle grumbled. “I can’t believe you have the audacity to even say that.”

  “What?” Aunt Tillie was all faux lightness and innocence now.

  Thistle walked over to Aunt Tillie, positioning herself so they were face to face. Or, well, more like face to neck. “I want you to know that I know what you were up to.”

  “Is that supposed to scare me?”

  “No,” Thistle replied honestly. “It’s supposed to make your realize that I’m not stupid.”

  “Of course you’re not stupid,” Aunt Tillie scoffed. “You share blood with me. You can’t be stupid.”

  This was the night that would never end, I swear.

  “What’s going on here?”

  I recognized the voice and my heart skipped a beat. I scanned the darkness, smiling when my gaze landed on Landon Michaels. He was standing at the edge of the driveway, all lean muscles and rugged good looks, watching the scene unfold in front of him. He wasn’t alone, though. Marcus Wellington, as fair as Landon was dark, was also standing there regarding us nervously.

  “Nothing is going on,” Aunt Tillie said stiffly. “It’s family business.”

  Landon shook his head and moved to my side, dropping a kiss on my temple but never moving his blue eyes from Aunt Tillie’s suddenly bright stare. “Why don’t I believe you?”

  “Because you’re a FBI agent and that makes you naturally suspicious,” Aunt Tillie said snottily. “It’s an ugly quality.”

  Landon bit his lower lip. He was constantly waging an inner battle where Aunt Tillie was concerned. On one hand, he found her delightfully batty. On the other, she often got in his way when it came to affairs of the heart – and his job. He had learned – and he had learned quickly – that Aunt Tillie was always up to something and that something always meant bad news for someone.

  “Do you need someone to walk you up to the main house?” Landon asked, clearly deciding against a huge fight for the time being.

  “Do I look like an
invalid to you?”

  “No,” Landon conceded. “It’s dark, though.”

  “I’m fine. I’ve been walking myself home since before your parents were born,” Aunt Tillie turned and started making her way to the inn. She stopped and turned back, her face set. “No funny business. I’ll know if there’s funny business going on down here.”

  Marcus looked appropriately abashed but Landon just looked amused. “Good night.”

  “Good night,” Aunt Tillie huffed.

  Once we were all inside the guesthouse, Landon greeted me with a much more enthusiastic kiss. We’d been together a little more than two months, and things still felt new. Whenever he got close, I could almost feel the desire wash over me at the same time a relaxed calmness claimed my heart.

  “How was your day?” I asked, once we broke apart.

  “Long,” Landon admitted.

  “I wasn’t sure you were going to make it back over here tonight,” I said cagily. Landon had an apartment in Traverse City, where his main office was located. He spent weekends in Hemlock Cove – when he wasn’t working – but he had taken to making frequent overnight visits during the week when his schedule allowed, as well.

  “Yeah?” Landon raised his dark eyebrows and ran a hand through his shoulder-length black hair suggestively. “Maybe I missed you.”

  “Maybe?”

  “Maybe,” Landon winked. “Okay, probably.” He dropped another kiss on my mouth slyly.

  Thistle and Marcus were already snuggled up in a chair by the fire and Clove was pouting on the couch. I glanced at her carefully. “Are you alright?”

  “I’m fine,” she said dismissively. “Just a really long night.”

  “You can say that again,” Thistle moaned. “What a crappy evening.”

  “What happened?” Landon asked, sitting in the large chair at the edge of the living room and pulling me into his lap.

  I recounted the night’s events, including Aunt Tillie’s sudden arrival and Uncle Warren’s big announcement, and then waited for Landon to respond. When he started laughing, I couldn’t help but be surprised. “It’s not funny.”

  “Oh, it’s funny,” Landon laughed. “Your whole family is batshit crazy.”

  “She was spying on them,” I countered.

  “Something all three of you have done,” Landon replied pragmatically.

  “That was different. We thought Uncle Teddy might be a drug dealer. We had a reason.”

  “Maybe she has a reason, too,” Landon said. “Like protecting you guys.”

  “She’s not protecting us,” Thistle retorted. “She’s trying to eliminate the competition.”

  “Is that a bad thing?”

  “It’s not necessarily a good thing,” I said. “She’s got some really whacked out ways to get rid of them running through her busy little mind.”

  “Like what?”

  “Magical moles,” I said.

  Landon raised his eyebrows in surprise. While he had come to accept that we really were magical, he was still uncomfortable with the prospect at times. “Magical moles?”

  “She’s got all sorts of ideas,” Thistle said quickly. “Last week she wanted to create a targeted earthquake to swallow the inn whole – whether anyone was inside of it or not.”

  “Can she do that?” Landon looked worried.

  “Maybe,” I shrugged.

  “You don’t seem too worried about it.”

  “She won’t really do it,” I said. I mostly believed that. “She’s just venting.”

  Landon didn’t look so sure. “Maybe I should talk to her.”

  “And say what?”

  “Tell her that if anything happens out there, I’ll know she’s responsible,” Landon said.

  “And how will you prove that?” Thistle asked pointedly.

  “I don’t know,” Landon shrugged. “I’ll figure out something. I’ve got ways.”

  “Speaking of,” I said suddenly, remembering the little girl I had seen this morning. “There aren’t any reports of missing kids in the area, are there?”

  Landon furrowed his brow. “No, why?”

  “That’s right,” Thistle teased. “Bay thought she saw a little black girl running around the inn this morning.”

  “A little black girl?” Landon looked confused.

  “I thought I saw her hiding in a clump of trees at the edge of the property,” I admitted.

  “I haven’t heard any missing kid reports,” Landon said. “I’ll check tomorrow, though.”

  “Thanks.” I snuggled into his lap, resting my head on his broad chest.

  “What were you doing down at the edge of the property?” Landon asked suddenly. He was well aware of Aunt Tillie’s pot field – and its relative location.

  “Our moms are building a greenhouse for Aunt Tillie,” Clove said.

  “A greenhouse? Isn’t that what that little building on the other side of the inn is?”

  “I think it was supposed to be, a long time ago,” I admitted. “It’s falling apart, though. We just use it for storage now.”

  “So why are they building her a greenhouse?”

  “They think it will distract her from plotting against our fathers,” Thistle said. “And it’s also a way to lure the contractors that are working on the Dragonfly away from that inn so their opening is delayed.”

  “Really?” Landon looked surprised. “That doesn’t sound like something your mothers would do. Your Aunt Tillie? Yes. Your mothers? No.”

  He obviously didn’t know them well enough. “Aunt Tillie would be a lot more overt with her efforts,” I explained. “This is subterfuge.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?” Marcus asked.

  “It means it’s exactly something they would do,” Thistle supplied. “We knew they were up to something. We just didn’t know what.”

  “Well, that doesn’t sound fair,” Landon said finally. “I thought you said that your fathers opening another inn wouldn’t hurt business?”

  “It won’t,” I replied. “It doesn’t mean they want them setting up shop here. If it was anyone else, they would be fine with it. Because it’s them, though, they’re a little out of sorts.”

  “More out of sorts than we initially realized,” Thistle agreed.

  Landon glanced from Thistle’s drawn face to my worried one. “What aren’t you telling me?”

  “Nothing,” I said hurriedly. “We’re just concerned that things are going to get worse.”

  “They can get worse?” Landon looked doubtful. “That’s a terrifying thought if I ever heard one.”

  “With our family?” Thistle snorted. “Things can always get worse.”

  That was another terrifying thought.

  Six

  “Get up!”

  “Who is talking, please?”

  I refused to open my eyes. This had to be a nightmare. Given the grunt that the new voice elicited from the lump under the covers next to me, though, I had a feeling this was all too real.

  “It’s your favorite aunt,” the voice said testily.

  “That could be anyone,” I muttered, pulling my pillow out from under my head and pressing it to my face.

  “It better not be.” I felt a figure move in close to me and I peeked out from under the pillow and met Marnie’s angry brown eyes and pursed lips.

  “Why are you in here?”

  “We’re having a family meeting in the living room,” Marnie said, moving away from the bed. “And, last time I checked, you’re part of the family.”

  “How come you only say things like that when it’s convenient?”

  “Get up!” Marnie screeched again.

  I felt Landon’s foot nudge me under the covers. “Go out there.”

  “Whatever they’re doing here at . . . seven in the morning can’t be good,” I replied knowingly.

  “You don’t know that,” Landon said sleepily, his long black hair spread like a fan around his head. “You won’t know until you go out there.” />
  “Why do you want me to go out there?” I asked suspiciously.

  “So I can get another fifteen minutes of sleep,” Landon admitted easily.

  I slapped him playfully and then climbed out of bed. I cast a dubious glance at myself in the mirror above the dresser, ran a hand through my sleep-mussed hair, and then walked out into the living room in resignation.

  Clove and Thistle, still in their pajamas, were already sitting on the couch – and neither of them looked happy to be there. My mom, Twila and Marnie were standing in the middle of the room waiting for me to join the fray. This couldn’t be good.

  “We need to change the locks,” Thistle grumbled, her short-cropped purple hair standing on end.

  “This is our property,” my mom reminded her.

  “This is still our living space,” Thistle shot back. “We should be able to sleep in peace without the three of you sneaking in here during the middle of the night to spy on us.”

  “Like you’re doing anything worth spying on,” my mom scoffed.

  “I could have been,” Thistle shot back. “You scared poor Marcus to death.”

  “He’ll live.”

  “Actually, that’s the opposite of scared to death.” Thistle was clearly in a fighting mood.

  “So, you’re saying that the naked blond in your bed is dead?” My mom was spoiling for a fight, too. “Maybe we should call the police?”

  “There’s a FBI agent in the other room still sleeping,” Marnie offered. “We could just wake him up.”

  My mom glanced over at me questioningly. “Do you think we should go wake Landon up?”

  “What do you guys want?” I groaned, throwing myself into the striped chair adjacent to the couch dramatically.

  “We want to talk to you,” my mom said carefully. “It’s about your Aunt Tillie.”

  I was suddenly wide-awake, both suspicion and concern warring in my previously sleep-befuddled brain. “What about her?”

  “She’s not sick is she?” Clove had jumped right to freaking out. “Oh, God, she’s dying, isn’t she? We’re going to lose poor Aunt Tillie. She was such a great aunt. I’m going to miss her so much.”

  ”She’s not dying,” Thistle challenged. “You can’t kill evil. It only grows and grows until it eats us all.”