Charms & Witchdemeanors (Wicked Witches of the Midwest Book 8) Read online

  Aunt Tillie preened. “Thank you, Bay. I think that’s the nicest thing you ever said to me.”

  “Your ego is twice as big as your brain, though,” I added.

  “And both your ego and brain are evil,” Thistle said. “You can’t live with us. We’ll have to kill you if you try.”

  “You and what army, fresh mouth?” Aunt Tillie has a tendency to dig in her heels, and she was doing precisely that now. Even my fog-filled brain could sense the danger.

  “There’s absolutely no way that’s going to happen,” Thistle said. “We’ll kill each other – or ourselves when you get out of control and start demanding things.”

  “You’ll live.” Aunt Tillie looked a little too pleased with herself as she reached for her wine. “I think this is a great idea.”

  “I think this is the worst idea ever,” Thistle complained. “I totally lost my appetite. I don’t even want pie.”

  “Oh, you’re eating the pie,” Landon said. “If I have to force it down your throat, you’re eating it. The stupid pie is the reason we came to dinner … and now you have a new roommate. I hope the pie tastes like dirt.”

  “Thank you, Landon,” Marnie said, scorching him with an evil look. “Are you insinuating the pie is going to be bad?”

  “I’m insinuating that living with Aunt Tillie is going to be … a special treat,” Landon clarified.

  “I’ll bet you’re looking forward to it, aren’t you?” Aunt Tillie asked, winking at Landon. “Make sure you check who is in the shower before climbing in. You’re in for a big surprise if you get me instead of Bay.”

  I snorted at the visual. “Oh, good goddess.”

  “This isn’t going to be funny when the heatstroke wears off, Bay,” Landon said. “You’re going to be a screeching mess when that happens.”

  I knew he was serious, but I couldn’t help getting lost in his eyes. “Have I told you how pretty you are?”

  “I just … you’re killing me, woman,” Landon said. “I love you, but … I don’t think I can live with Aunt Tillie.”

  “Then you should move up to the inn,” Mom suggested. “That way you can watch your friend and make sure he doesn’t get into trouble, and the girls can take care of Aunt Tillie. I think that’s a marvelous idea.”

  “I think you’ve gotten heatstroke with the other three if you think that’s going to happen,” Landon argued. “I’m not being separated from Bay.”

  “You’ll be a five-minute walk away,” Mom said. “That’s not being separated. That’s … adding a little adventure to your relationship.”

  “Yeah, I’m on to you,” Landon said, waving his fork. “That’s not going to happen. I hate spending three nights away from her every week as it is.”

  “It’s sad really,” Noah said. “He stares at that photo on his desk and you can just tell he’s missing her. It’s so … pathetic.”

  “No one asked you,” Landon snapped. “You don’t even have a girlfriend.”

  “That’s because I’m all about the job.”

  “Then you’re always going to be unhappy,” Landon said. “Don’t turn your nose up at my life. I happen to like it.”

  Noah had the grace to look abashed. “I didn’t mean anything by it.”

  “Just … shut up,” Landon said, shaking his head. “This night couldn’t possibly get any worse. Eat your dinner, Bay. You have ten minutes and then I’m forcing you outside for a walk. Period. Don’t bother arguing.”

  “Okay,” I said, shoving another oversized piece of steak into my mouth.

  “I wouldn’t be so sure about the night not getting worse,” Thistle said, inclining her chin toward the door. “Something tells me Mr. Happy over there is about to prove you wrong. In fact … wait, what was I saying?”

  I turned to see Chief Terry standing in the doorframe. Thistle was right about him looking dour.

  “Oh, geez,” Landon whined. “Now what?”

  “I got the autopsy results on Patty Grimes,” Chief Terry replied. “This is now officially a murder investigation. She was poisoned with something called hemlock. It’s an herb.”

  “It’s a witch herb,” Noah said, taking on an air of authority. “That means someone who thinks she’s a witch killed her.”

  “Or someone trying to frame a witch,” Landon said, turning his conflicted eyes to me. “I guess I was wrong about things getting worse after all, huh?”

  “You’re really pretty.”

  Seven

  “I feel better.”

  Landon leaned against a tree, his arms crossed, and stared me down. He didn’t look happy.

  I decided to try a different tactic. “I’m sorry?”

  Landon was unmoved.

  I had no idea what to say to him, so I flashed him my most adorable “you love me and can’t stay angry for long” look.

  “What are you sorry about?” Landon asked, his tone even and remote. “Are you sorry for getting stoned not five minutes after I told you we had to be on our best behavior because Noah was here? Or are you sorry about Aunt Tillie threatening to move in with us for the foreseeable future?”

  I wasn’t sorry about the Aunt Tillie thing. Don’t get me wrong, I felt really sorry for myself because of that. I still didn’t think I’d done anything wrong. “What do you want me to feel sorry about?”

  Landon let loose with an exasperated sigh. Dinner had only gotten worse – yes, it was possible – after Chief Terry arrived. Mom plied him with pie and smiles, but I could tell his announcement worried her. Heck, it worried me.

  “We didn’t mean for it to happen,” I offered. “It was an accident. It’s not as though we planned it. We were trying to do the right thing. When we found the pot in the greenhouse all I could think was we had to get rid of it. I guess I should’ve given the destruction method more thought.”

  “No, you did the right thing,” Landon said, pushing himself away from the tree and dropping down on the ground next to me. We picked an isolated spot between the inn and guesthouse during our walk so we could be alone. “I’m not angry about what happened. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not happy about it, but any other night I would’ve laughed and enjoyed it.”

  “You’re worried about Noah, aren’t you?”

  Landon collected my hand and held it between his. “I’m worried about you.”

  I stilled, surprised. “What’s going to happen to me?”

  “Sweetie, I love you and it’s put me in the position where I’m desperate to protect you,” he said. “Noah isn’t a bad guy. He’s just gung-ho and desperate to make a name for himself. I was like that at one point, too.”

  “And now?”

  “Now I’m happy spending Friday nights having dinner with your family and then drinking with the gang,” Landon said. “Priorities change. My problem is that I’m extremely worried about Noah staying here.”

  “Then why did you want him to stay here?” I prodded. “We could’ve put him up in another inn. Heck, we could’ve put him in the Dragonfly.”

  The Dragonfly, a competing inn, was owned by my father and uncles. They’d left town when we were children, returning only recently to re-forge neglected bonds. They would’ve let us put Noah up at their inn. I was sure of it.

  “I want him close enough to watch,” Landon replied. “I want to know what he knows. I want to see what he sees.”

  “I’ve put you in a terrible position, haven’t I?”

  “You haven’t done anything but stand too close to a fire when you were burning pot,” Landon answered. “I’m sure that’s an important lesson learned.”

  “Yeah,” I said, trying to cleave my tongue from the roof of my mouth. “I have cottonmouth.”

  Landon snorted. “You’re so cute I can’t stand it sometimes,” he said, laughing as he reached over to haul me onto his lap before sobering. “I need to ask you something, and I want you to think about it before you answer.”

  “You want to know whether I think Aunt Tillie is capable of killing someo
ne, don’t you?”

  “I know she’s capable of killing someone,” Landon replied. “I’ve seen her do it – even though I didn’t understand how she was doing it at the time. I want to know whether she’s capable of killing Patty Grimes.”

  “No.”

  “You didn’t think about that very long.”

  “No.”

  “Tell me why,” Landon said, rubbing his cheek against mine. “I don’t believe she is either, but you know her better than I do. Tell me.”

  “Aunt Tillie talks a good game, but deep down she has a good heart,” I explained. “The times she’s unleashed her magic and done real damage – every time – was to protect us. She had no reason to kill Patty Grimes.”

  “What about Kenneth?”

  “I think she liked the attention Kenneth lavished on her, but Uncle Calvin was the love of her life and she never cared for any other man,” I said. “She didn’t care about Kenneth enough to kill Patty. Heck, if she wanted Kenneth, she probably could’ve taken him back at any time. You saw how he was with her.”

  “He was smitten,” Landon said. “Just like I’m smitten with you.”

  “Cute.”

  “I try,” Landon said. “I think if she really wanted to fight with someone she wouldn’t kill them through underhanded means. She would go straight at them and make them suffer. Killing an enemy isn’t what gets her off.”

  “No,” I agreed. “She likes playing with them too much. She’s a fan of the game.”

  “Exactly,” Landon said. “That leads me to believe someone is framing her.”

  “Maybe,” I said. “Or maybe someone else had a grudge against Patty and they’re using Aunt Tillie as an easy scapegoat and timed Patty’s death so it would be easy to point the finger at Aunt Tillie.”

  “That’s the same as framing her.”

  “Only kind of.”

  “You really drive me crazy,” Landon said, tightening his arms around my waist. “As much as I would love to stay out here and drive you crazy, I think we need to get back to the guesthouse. Don’t you have packing to do with Clove?”

  “Oh, yeah. I almost forgot.”

  “Are you sad to see her go?” His eyes were serious when I locked gazes with him. “It would be natural if that’s what you’re feeling.”

  “I’m feeling … torn,” I said. “She wants to go but she’s terrified we’re going to forget her.”

  “Well, I’m pretty sure that’s impossible.”

  “I knew we wouldn’t live together forever, but … .”

  “You’re going to miss her,” Landon finished.

  “I’m also … jealous.”

  Landon shifted me so he could study my face. “Why?”

  “She’s being an adult and moving forward,” I replied, opting for honesty. “Thistle and I are staying behind. I know that won’t be for long either because Marcus and Thistle are going to move in together, so where does that leave me?”

  “I’m hoping it leaves you with me.”

  “Yes, but … you live in Traverse City,” I pointed out. “I’m not sure I’m ready to move out of Hemlock Cove … not that you’ve asked me to.”

  “I’ve considered asking you, but I don’t want you moving to Traverse City,” Landon said, taking me by surprise.

  “Oh.” My voice sounded weak and small, and I hated myself for it.

  “Not because of whatever you’re thinking,” Landon said. “I like Traverse City. It’s a nice town. I don’t see it as my future, though.”

  “What do you see as your future?” Did that sound girlie and needy?

  “You,” Landon answered. “You need to be here, though. This is your home. I want it to be my home, too. I have to figure out some things first, though.”

  “Like?”

  “Like technically I’m supposed to live in Traverse City so I can be close to the office,” Landon said. “I get around that as often as possible, but it’s still a requirement.”

  “I guess I didn’t think of that.”

  “Things are okay right now, aren’t they?” Landon asked. “We have a little more time before we have to make any big decisions. We’ll figure it out.”

  “But you want to figure it out, right?”

  Landon’s handsome face split with a wide grin. “Yes. I want to figure it all out.”

  “Good.”

  “I thought you might like that,” Landon said. “We can’t dwell on that right now, though. We have more pressing things to worry about.”

  “Like Aunt Tillie.”

  “And getting through your last night with Clove as a roommate,” Landon said, giving me a soft kiss and then pushing me to my feet. “Come on, stoner. Let’s go get one of those tasks behind us, shall we?”

  I linked my fingers with his and let him lead me toward the guesthouse. For the first time since Clove’s moving became a reality, I realized everyone was moving forward. It wasn’t only her.

  “Do you think my mother is going to say something about the pot when she gets me alone?”

  “Definitely,” Landon said. “Live in fear.”

  “That’s the way I roll in this family.”

  “OH, LOOK at this,” Clove said, extending a framed photograph. “I forgot this was in my drawer.”

  I sat on the floor in front of Landon, carefully wrapping some of Clove’s breakables while he and Marcus watched a baseball game. The photo showed Thistle, Clove and me as teenagers. We were dressed in short cutoffs and tank tops, mugging for the camera.

  “Let me see that,” Landon said, grabbing the photograph. “You look cute. I would’ve been all over you in high school.”

  “No, you wouldn’t have been,” I countered. “You would’ve thought what everyone else thought.”

  “And what’s that?”

  “That I was the weird girl who always talked to herself and was going to end up in an asylum or something.”

  “I don’t think that’s true,” Landon said, handing the photograph back to me. “I think I would’ve loved you even then.”

  “I think you’re drunk,” Thistle said from her spot on the floor in front of Marcus where she diligently paired socks. “I don’t understand how we always lose socks. You have two orphans. This place isn’t big enough to lose socks.”

  “I maintain there’s a sock monster in every home,” Marcus said. “He’s invisible … and hungry.”

  “I think you’re drunk, too,” Thistle said, grabbing her martini from the coffee table.

  “I think we’re all drunk,” I said, sighing as Landon massaged my shoulders. “We probably should stop now so we’re not hungover tomorrow. I don’t think Agent Glenn is going to be pleasant when we’re hungover.”

  “Agent Glenn wouldn’t be pleasant if he were hungover,” Thistle said, closing the box in front of her. “Is that it? Is that everything?”

  “Everything but the stuff I’ll need to get ready tomorrow morning,” Clove said, glancing around. “It’s … done.”

  Perhaps it was the alcohol – and I knew I would blame the martinis when I thought about this night in the future – but tears pricked my eyes. “It’s not done,” I said. “It’s just … different.”

  “Okay, there will be none of that,” Landon said, tightening his grip on my shoulders. “Don’t cry. I don’t like it.”

  “I’m not crying,” I said, working overtime to collect myself. “I’m happy for Clove.”

  “Yeah. She gets to decorate a lighthouse and live in it,” Thistle said. “How many people get to say that?”

  “You’ll come and visit in a few days when everything is moved in, right?” Clove asked. I couldn’t help but notice how watery her eyes were. “I’ll cook dinner for everyone. We’ll make a night of it.”

  “That sounds good,” Landon said. “You guys are right on the water, and you have that bonfire pit close to the shore. It will be fun.”

  “And you’ll be nice to Sam, right?” Clove pressed.

  “I’m always nice to Sa
m,” Landon protested.

  Everyone raised dubious eyebrows.

  “Fine. I haven’t always been nice to Sam,” Landon conceded. “You have to understand, though, from my point of view he was a threat. I realize now he wasn’t – and I will be forever thankful that he went out of his way to protect Bay – but he worried me when he first showed up.”

  “I think that’s because you thought he was going to hit on Bay,” Thistle said. “He had better taste than that.”

  Clove giggled. “Thanks for that.”

  “I’m surprised Sam isn’t here,” Landon said. “I would’ve thought he would spend your last night here with you.”

  “He was going to, but then he decided to give me the night alone with Bay and Thistle,” Clove said. “I think he was worried we would fight … or cry.”

  “I’m worried about it, too,” Landon said. “You’re all very close to the edge. I can feel it.”

  “You’re not going to see tears until tomorrow,” Thistle said.

  “Oh, that’s so sweet.” Clove pressed her hand to the spot above her heart. “I’m going to cry, too.”

  “I’m going to cry because I just know Aunt Tillie will try to move in to my crafts room,” Thistle said.

  “Office,” I automatically corrected.

  “There’s a big pile of dirt in the garden outside,” Thistle threatened. “I’ll make you eat it.”

  “You’re too drunk to make me do anything,” I countered, leaning back so I could snuggle closer to Landon. “You don’t think she’s really going to try to force her way in here, do you?”

  “No way,” Thistle said. “She was only saying that to irritate us. She can’t anyway, because Clove is taking her bed.”

  “I forgot about that,” I said, brightening. “There’s no way she’ll sleep on the floor.”

  “She doesn’t want to live here,” Clove said. “She’s only upset about being suspected of murder. I can’t say I blame her. Did you see her face when Chief Terry announced Patty had been poisoned?”

  “No,” I replied, my interest piqued. “I was staring at Chief Terry. What did Aunt Tillie do?”

  “She looked … sad,” Clove replied. “I think she felt sorry for Patty. Hemlock poisoning isn’t a pleasant way to go.”