Something to Witch About (Wicked Witches of the Midwest Book 5) Page 7

  Thistle had laid down the gauntlet. Connie wasn’t going to back down now. “I love French food.”

  “The diner has some great fries,” Thistle replied, her tone dry.

  “That’s not French.”

  “They’re French fries,” Thistle countered.

  “We’re open to suggestion,” Earl said hurriedly. “What’s good?”

  Thistle wrinkled her nose. “The Thai is great.”

  “I love Thai food,” Daryl said. “You do, too, Mom.”

  “Only if it’s prepared correctly.”

  Earl sighed. “Connie.”

  “The Thai is great here,” Landon said. “You’ll like it.”

  “You’ve eaten it?” Connie asked.

  “I’ve eaten lunch here more times than I can count,” Landon replied. “We’ve had Thai numerous times.”

  Connie scowled. “You eat lunch here? In this devil store?”

  “I do.”

  “Here?”

  “Mom, we’re trying desperately to appease you,” Landon said, never moving his head from mine. “If you don’t want Thai, what else do you want?”

  “French.”

  “You want fries? Great. The diner has great fries. I’ve had those, too – on numerous occasions.”

  “Fries are not French.”

  “You’re killing me,” Landon muttered.

  This could turn into World War III if I didn’t do something about it. “How about Middle Eastern?”

  Connie wrinkled her nose. “That’s terrorist food.”

  Landon sighed dramatically. “We’re trying to give you the choice here, Mom. If you don’t make one in the next thirty seconds, I’m going to side with Bay and order the terrorist food. It’s really good.”

  “I would like a sandwich,” Connie sniffed. “Something simple.”

  “Great.”

  “Turkey, no mayo, whole grain bread.”

  “Great.”

  I took the opportunity to get to my feet, escape in reach. I grabbed the writing pad from the counter and took everyone’s orders, flashing Connie a placating smile as I moved toward the door. “I’ll go down to the deli.”

  “I’ll go with you,” Landon said.

  “Oh, no,” I replied. “You should stay here with your family. They’ll miss you if you’re gone.”

  Landon scowled. “What about you? Will you miss me?”

  I will. Not as much as I will hate his mother’s reaction to his absence, though. “I will. You should spend time with your family, though. I get to see you all the time.”

  “I hate you,” Landon grumbled.

  “I know.”

  I waved at Thistle and Clove as I exited Hypnotic, finally breathing a sigh of relief as the spring air filled my lungs. If I was lucky, I could milk this food run for a good half hour. I planned on being lucky.

  I kept my pace slow as I meandered down the street. The deli was only three stores away. I had to make this count.

  My attention was diverted by a figure – a familiar one – rushing down the sidewalk across the street. Instinctively, I darted under a nearby awning and watched.

  Aunt Tillie seemed oblivious to the world. She wasn’t looking around, obviously not caring who saw her. She darted into the bakery – the Gunderson bakery – without a backward glance.

  What the hell?

  Ten

  What is she doing?

  Aunt Tillie rarely comes to town. In fact, my mother and aunts try to dissuade her from the idea whenever she mentions it. Most of the townspeople either don’t trust her, which is richly earned, or they outright fear her, which she encourages.

  It couldn’t be a coincidence that she was going into the Gunderson bakery. Not now.

  I knew it!

  I was across the street and crouching beneath the open window on the far side of the bakery in less than a minute. Gunderson’s Fresh Baked Goods – one of three bakeries in town – was located on a coveted corner lot. That meant that while the front of the store was completely visible from Main Street, the side wall was brick, boasting only three small windows. In other words, I wouldn’t be able to look in without being seen, but I could eavesdrop in the shadow of the building.

  What? She’s lying and I want to know what’s going on. Aunt Tillie deserves it. Just don’t tell her I said that.

  Luckily for me, Hemlock Cove doesn’t have a lot of street traffic. I could easily hear what was going on inside of the bakery.

  “Get out!”

  “Tillie, you can’t just kick my customers out.”

  “Watch me.”

  I heard the bell over the front door jangle and a moment later saw the two Davis boys run down the sidewalk, doughnuts clutched in their hands.

  “Run! She’s going to turn us into frogs,” one of them screeched as they raced down the street.

  Aunt Tillie has a way with kids.

  I pressed my back to the wall and settled in to listen.

  “Something happened,” Aunt Tillie announced.

  “Yeah, you chased my customers out,” Mrs. Gunderson replied. “I’ll have you know they hadn’t paid for those doughnuts yet.”

  “I think you can survive without the seventy cents.”

  Silence.

  “Don’t you want to know why I’m here?” Aunt Tillie asked.

  “Not really,” Mrs. Gunderson replied. “Since I haven’t talked to you in years, I’m figuring that nothing you have to tell me now is good.”

  “Well, you’re right on that front,” Aunt Tillie said.

  Mrs. Gunderson sighed. “Fine. What happened?”

  “We’re having a greenhouse built out on the property.”

  “I heard. Congratulations? I’m not sure what to say.”

  “That’s not the news,” Aunt Tillie said, her tone harsh. “The news is, while they were out there, they unearthed a body.”

  The announcement must have knocked Mrs. Gunderson for a loop, because it was met with absolute silence.

  “Aren’t you going to say anything?” Aunt Tillie asked.

  “I don’t know what to say.”

  “Well, that’s not going to do us any good,” Aunt Tillie said. “Terry was out at the inn for breakfast. He’s already figured out it’s Floyd.”

  “How?”

  “Well, he hasn’t a hundred percent figured it out,” Aunt Tillie conceded.

  “What, exactly, has he figured out?”

  “He knows the body has been there more than forty years, and he knows that Floyd is missing.”

  “That doesn’t mean he knows it’s Floyd,” Mrs. Gunderson pointed out.

  “It’s only a matter of time,” Aunt Tillie replied. “You know that. You’re just being difficult.”

  “What are we going to do?”

  “I don’t know,” Aunt Tillie replied. “Bay and Thistle are already suspicious of me. They know that I know something, although they haven’t figured out what yet.”

  “And when they do figure it out?”

  “Maybe they won’t,” Aunt Tillie suggested.

  “Those girls aren’t going to give up,” Mrs. Gunderson said. “They’ve got too much of you in them.”

  “We have one good thing going for us,” Aunt Tillie said. “The body is just bones. They might not be able to figure out how he died.”

  “What if they do?”

  “We’ll cross that bridge when we get to it.”

  “Can’t you just … you know … poof it away?” Mrs. Gunderson sounded desperate.

  “If I could do that I would’ve done it fifty years ago,” Aunt Tillie said. “I’m not omnipotent.”

  “This is a nightmare.”

  Holy crap! What had she done?

  “What are you doing?”

  I froze when I heard the voice, forcing my gaze up to meet Landon’s quizzical expression. He was standing on the street corner, his family behind him, and he didn’t look happy.

  “I … um … I … .”

  “What are you all d
oing out here?”

  Uh-oh. Aunt Tillie had obviously left the shop. I couldn’t see her yet, but the Michaels family had all turned their attention to the front of the store.

  “What are you doing?” Landon asked her, placing his hands on his narrow hips in a show of defiance.

  “Shopping.”

  “You didn’t buy anything.”

  “I placed an order.” Aunt Tillie appeared on the street in front of Landon, swiveling around when she felt my presence. Her eyes narrowed dangerously. “What are you doing?”

  I straightened up instinctively. “I thought I saw a penny. I was going to pick it up for luck.”

  “Really?”

  Landon remained silent, but his eyes were busy as he glanced between us.

  “What are you doing?” I turned the question around on her.

  “Shopping.”

  “Why would you be here? It’s baking day at the inn. Mom and Twila will be elbow-deep in dough all day.”

  “Are you calling me a liar?”

  “No,” I said hurriedly. “I just … I’m confused.”

  “I still don’t understand what you’re doing,” Aunt Tillie said.

  “I was getting lunch for everyone,” I replied.

  “This everyone?” Aunt Tillie asked, gesturing at the Michaels family.

  “Yes.”

  “We decided we wanted to eat at the diner,” Daryl offered. I think he was trying to be helpful. “Landon thought we would be able to catch up with you. That’s when we saw you … well, I’m not exactly sure what you were doing.”

  “I was picking up a penny,” I replied, sticking to my lie.

  Landon was at his limit. “Why don’t we all get lunch?”

  “I’m not hungry,” Aunt Tillie said.

  “Sure you are,” Landon countered.

  “I think I’d know whether I’m hungry,” she replied.

  Landon pursed his lips. “Well then, you can just grace us with your wonderful presence. That will be fun, too.”

  “That sounds nice,” Earl enthused.

  “Yes,” Denny agreed.

  Aunt Tillie glared at Landon before shooting me a pointed scowl. “What do you think about this?”

  I think I lost my appetite. “I think it sounds like a great idea,” I said, trying to tamp down my worry. “I think a nice lunch with everyone sounds just … fantastic.”

  “You never were very bright,” Aunt Tillie said.

  “Let’s go,” Landon said.

  Ten minutes later we were settled around a rectangular table at the diner. Our orders had been placed, and the handful of diners in the restaurant were busy staring at Aunt Tillie – a fact that wasn’t lost on Connie.

  “Why is everyone staring?”

  “The town loves new people,” I lied.

  Connie’s eyes sharpened. “It seems like something else.”

  “She doesn’t think you’re very smart either,” Aunt Tillie said.

  “Drink your iced tea,” I growled.

  Landon leaned back in his chair, his body feigning relaxation – even though his eyes were curious. He obviously had questions he wanted to ask, but now clearly wasn’t the time.

  Earl cleared his throat. “So, um, I bet you know a lot about Hemlock Cove’s history, Mrs. Winchester.”

  Aunt Tillie rolled her eyes. “Now I see where he got his conversation skills,” she said, inclining her head toward Landon.

  “Be nice,” I hissed. I plastered a wide smile on my face as I regarded Earl. “What did you want to know?”

  “How did the rebranding come about?”

  “Oh, that’s a great story,” Annabelle Lafferty, the owner of the diner, said, interrupting with a conspiratorial grin. She’d been eavesdropping between the table and the counter since we placed our orders. I was actually glad she was filling the conversation gap, though. It gave me time to think.

  “Why don’t you tell them, Annabelle,” I suggested.

  “Okay.” Annabelle pulled a chair up and launched into her story, embellishing with each sentence. I’d heard her tell it to tourists so many times I could almost recite it myself. “It all started with Selene Ravenstalk.”

  I tuned the rest of the story out and focused on Aunt Tillie. “I didn’t even know you were close with Mrs. Gunderson,” I said, keeping my voice low.

  “What makes you think I am?”

  I bit the inside of my mouth. “I saw you go into the bakery.”

  “No, you didn’t.”

  “Yes, I did.”

  “No, you didn’t.”

  Goddess, I totally hate this game. She used to play it when we were little – telling us we hadn’t really seen something when we knew we had. It worked until we were about nine and realized what she was doing. That didn’t stop her from dusting it off from time to time to annoy us, though.

  Landon shot an occasional smile down to the other end of the table, pretending he was interested in Annabelle’s colorful tale. His attention was focused on us, though. I had no doubt.

  “You drive me crazy,” I muttered.

  I jumped when I felt someone move in closer on my right side. I glanced over and saw Melody Davis – the older sister of the fleeing Davis boys – staring at Aunt Tillie intently.

  “Do you need something, sweetie?” I asked.

  “That’s her, isn’t it?” She was breathing hard.

  “That’s her.” I knew she was talking about Aunt Tillie. All the kids in town were fascinated with – and terrified of – the reigning Winchester matriarch.

  “Is everything they say about her true?”

  I tucked a strand of hair behind my ear. “Yes.”

  “Does she really have a pet scorpion?”

  “Yes.”

  “Does she really hang out with ghosts?”

  “Yes.”

  “Does she really have dog paws for feet?”

  That was a new one. “I don’t know,” I said, smiling. “She won’t take her shoes off when I’m in the room. She’s must be hiding them from me.”

  Melody nodded in agreement and then looked over at Landon, smiling shyly. “Who is he?”

  “He’s Landon,” I said. “He’s with the FBI.”

  Landon smiled for Melody’s benefit, gracing her with a heartfelt grin. “And who are you?”

  Melody’s face was red, so I answered for her. “This is the fabulous Melody Davis. She’s the reigning Little Miss Hemlock, if memory serves.”

  Melody’s shiny brown hair shook as she giggled. “How did you know that?”

  “I put the story in the newspaper when you won,” I reminded her.

  “Oh, yeah.”

  “We’re in the presence of a real-life beauty queen,” Landon raised his eyebrows. “I’m honored.”

  Melody glanced back at me. “Is he your boyfriend?”

  “Last time I checked,” I said, smiling tightly. I didn’t tell her I was worried that Aunt Tillie’s latest drama would chase him right out of my life.

  Melody didn’t seem satisfied with the answer. “Are you her boyfriend?”

  Landon smirked. “I am.”

  “And you’re a policeman?”

  It was a gross understatement, but Landon nodded anyway. “I am.”

  “Are you here to arrest her?” Melody asked.

  Landon furrowed his brow. “Who?”

  Melody cupped her hand over her mouth and whispered in Landon’s ear. I couldn’t hear what she said, but the furtive looks she kept darting at Aunt Tillie were a dead giveaway.

  “I’m not here to arrest her, no,” Landon said. “I’m just here to have lunch.”

  “With your girlfriend,” Melody clarified.

  “With my girlfriend.”

  Melody bit her lower lip. “Is she going to curse me?”

  I realized that every face at the table was now focused on us. Crap. “No.”

  “Yes,” Aunt Tillie grumbled.

  Melody’s eyes widened, panic evident.

  I pinched Au
nt Tillie’s arm viciously. “Don’t tell her that.” I turned back to Melody. “She won’t hurt you.”

  “No,” Aunt Tillie agreed, rubbing her arm. “I might hurt you, though.”

  “Drink your iced tea,” I ordered.

  “Is something going on?” Connie asked.

  “No,” Aunt Tillie and I said in unison.

  I was pretty sure no one at the table believed us – including me. Why can’t I have a normal family? Just one day in my life. That’s all I’m asking.

  Eleven

  “Are you sure you don’t want to ride back with us?” Landon asked.

  We were standing outside of Hypnotic, one of the worst lunches in recent memory only minutes past. The rest of the Michaels family was sitting in Landon’s Explorer, watching us.

  I felt like the bug on the windshield they were looking through.

  Aunt Tillie had disappeared before the bill came – not that I blamed her, or expected anything different. Heck, I was fighting the urge to flee now.

  “I’m sure.”

  Landon ran his hands down my shoulders. “Do you want me to stay with you? I can give the keys to one of my brothers and catch a ride with Thistle and you.”

  “That should go over well,” I grumbled.

  Landon sighed. “This couldn’t have come at a worse time. That doesn’t mean it’s the end of the world. We don’t even know who the body belongs to yet.”

  I hadn’t told him what I’d overheard in the bakery. “No.”

  “Are you going to tell me what they were talking about?” Landon’s question was pointed.

  “Yeah.” I didn’t hesitate with my answer. “Not here, though.”

  Landon glanced at his family. “All right. I’m guessing you want to stay here and talk about it with Clove and Thistle.”

  He knew me too well. “Does that make you mad?”

  Landon pressed a quick kiss to my forehead. “No.”

  “Really?”

  He shook his head. “No. I’m not angry that you tell them stuff. I’m angry when you lie to me.”

  “I know.”

  “This situation is … it’s totally screwed up.”

  “Welcome to life with the Winchester witches,” I mumbled.

  Landon lifted my chin with his thumb. “I happen to like the Winchester witches – most of the time.”

  “Even Aunt Tillie?”