A Witch of a Time Page 9

  I faltered. Being plagued with the name Thistle was one of the banes of my existence – well, that and a nasty Aunt Tillie when she’s feeling feisty. I never understood why my mother picked it. Bay was an herb, but it was still a pretty name. The same with Clove, my other cousin. Thistle, though? That’s what you take when you drink too much. “What are you talking about?”

  “Right up until the day you were born, Twila was going to name you Basil,” Winnie explained. “She took one look at you, though, and she decided that Thistle was a better name.”

  I shifted my gaze to Bay, unsure. “Did you know about this?”

  “No,” Bay said, grinning widely. “Although, I do like the name Basil.”

  “Basil is worse than Thistle,” I argued.

  “Oh, I don’t know, I think it’s kind of fun,” Bay replied. She enjoys getting under my skin, too. It’s a family trait – and it’s obnoxious. “Basil Winchester, fastest herb in the Midwest.” She dissolved into giggles. She was never going to let me live this down.

  I turned back to our mothers. “So, where is Aunt Tillie?” They were purposely trying to derail the conversation because they didn’t want us to know what our persnickety great-aunt was up to. We’re all masters of this specific verbal art, but it doesn’t work well on those who regularly utilize the tactic.

  “We told you, she’s down at her greenhouse,” Winnie said evasively.

  “Oh, so she’s not setting up a stand at the edge of the road to sell wine?” I pressed.

  Bay pursed her lips.

  “If you already knew, then why did you ask?” Mom’s face was pale and drawn.

  “Yeah, it’s almost as if you were trying to play a game,” Marnie said. “You know I don’t like games.”

  Since Marnie was the master of throwing a board game into the air if she thought she was going to lose, I was definitely aware of her aversion to games. Don’t even ask what she does during a raucous game of cribbage. “I just wanted to know what you guys were going to say.”

  “Well, she’s not going to do it,” Marnie said. “We’ve laid down the law. She knows what is – and what is not – acceptable.”

  “You’ve laid down the law?” Bay asked, arching an eyebrow.

  “We have,” Winnie said. “Aunt Tillie may not like it, but we’re in charge here.”

  Aunt Tillie definitely wasn’t going to like it. She also wasn’t going to respect it.

  “How about you let us try and talk to her?” Bay suggested.

  I couldn’t stop my mouth from dropping open. “No way!”

  “Oh, come on,” Bay prodded. “Do you really want Aunt Tillie to sell wine at the end of the driveway? The people in town are going to have a fit.”

  “You were the one who wanted to listen by the window in the library so she wouldn’t see us and curse us,” I pointed out.

  Winnie knit her eyebrows together. “Excuse me?”

  “You have such a big mouth,” Bay grumbled.

  “Well, since you two think this is so funny, I’ve decided that you should be the ones to deal with it,” Winnie said.

  “No.”

  “Yes,” she said, fixing me with a hard look. “She’s your aunt. You’re both a part of this family. We’ve taken a vote. You two are now in charge of making sure Aunt Tillie does not open a wine stand.”

  “You took a vote?” This family is unbelievable sometimes. “When?”

  “It was a silent vote,” Winnie said, glancing at her two sisters in turn. “Right?”

  Mom and Marnie nodded enthusiastically.

  “We think you’re the best witches for the job,” Marnie said.

  “Yeah,” Mom added. “We have complete and total faith in you.”

  I pressed my lips together and focused on Bay. “I blame you for this.”

  Bay shrugged. “You usually do.”

  “SHE’S not going to listen to us.”

  “Then why did you suggest we come down here and talk to her?” Bay baffles me sometimes. She shifts from one extreme to the other. One minute she’s an optimist, and the next she’s a pessimist. It’s like she has constant PMS. Me? I’m set on one extreme – annoyance – and I rarely shift.

  “I don’t know,” Bay said. “I just thought it might be fun.”

  “If she wants to set up a wine stand, she’s going to set up a wine stand,” I grumbled, running a hand through my cropped blue hair as we trudged down the driveway. Since summer was officially here, I’d been toying with the idea of changing the color. I only opted for blue because it drives my mother nuts. She’s starting to get used to it now – even though she still hates it. There are plenty of other colors in the rainbow to torture her with. I’m thinking a nice lavender to match the big bushes that are starting to bloom along the edge of the property might be in order. I’ve always loved that color.

  “I don’t have any intention of trying to talk her out of the stand,” Bay said.

  “You don’t?”

  She shook her head. “Landon will be here this afternoon. I figure he’ll do it.”

  Landon’s work often takes him out of Hemlock Cove during the week. He’s here as often as he can be midweek, but he always goes out of his way to spend weekends with Bay. They’ve been pretty happy lately, which makes me happy. For law enforcement, he’s not half bad. As long as he makes Bay smile, though, I’m willing to put up with his overbearing attitude. “She won’t listen to Landon either.”

  “She might,” Bay said. “She likes him.”

  “That doesn’t mean she’s going to listen to him,” I pointed out. “She likes Chief Terry, and she won’t listen to him.” Chief Terry may be the top law enforcement official in Hemlock Cove, but that wasn’t enough to dissuade Aunt Tillie from any of her nefarious deeds – even though he’s a frequent visitor at the inn.

  “That’s because she knows Chief Terry is terrified of her,” Bay said. “He would never arrest her.”

  “That’s because our mothers would never forgive him,” I said. “He likes all of the attention.”

  Our mothers like to play a game – yes, even Marnie – and Chief Terry is the prize. I’m not sure if he really wants to be claimed, but he enjoys being the center of attention, especially when they ply him with food. “I don’t see why they just don’t let her do it,” I said. “She’ll lose interest after a couple of hours. She’s not exactly known for her stellar work ethic.”

  Bay pointed to the end of the driveway. “She’s already got it set up. She seems serious.”

  “That’s only because she knows it irritates our moms,” I said. “She’s nothing if not predictable.”

  Once we got to the end of the driveway, Aunt Tillie barely lifted an eyebrow as she greeted us. “So, they sent out reinforcements to talk me out of this?”

  “We’re not here to talk you out of this,” Bay said. “We’re here to … help.”

  “Help?”

  “Help you with your business,” Bay said.

  Aunt Tillie glanced at me.

  “I’m not here to help,” I said. “I wanted to stay out of it. Bay’s big mouth is what got us in this mess in the first place. I’m just going to pretend I don’t see a thing.”

  “You’re smarter than you look,” Aunt Tillie said. She pointed to a box. “Open that up and get a few bottles of wine out. I need people to see what I’m selling.”

  I sighed, but I did as I was told. “You know this is illegal, right?”

  “Everything fun in life is illegal.”

  “Not everything,” Bay said.

  “Fine,” Aunt Tillie acquiesced. “Everything worth doing in life is illegal.”

  Bay shook her head and scanned Aunt Tillie’s supplies. “You need a sign.”

  “Wait, so now you’re encouraging her?” I was surprised.

  “I’m not encouraging her,” Bay said. “I just like to see things done right.”

  That’s one of the things I hate most about Bay. She’s got an odd organizational streak. It rears it
s head at the oddest times. “Well, make her a sign then.”

  “I’m not the artistic one,” Bay pointed out.

  I scowled. Now I knew why she suggested a sign.

  “That’s right,” Aunt Tillie said, her eyes sparkling. “Thistle is the artistic one.”

  “I’m not making you a sign,” I said.

  “I want a good one,” Aunt Tillie said, ignoring my statement. “Put some flowers on it or something. Glitter might be fun, too. I want it to look good. Make sure cars can read it from the road.”

  “Did you hear me? I’m not making you a sign.”

  “Don’t you even think about arguing with me,” Aunt Tillie warned. “I’m not in the mood. Right now, you two aren’t on my list. You don’t want that to change.”

  I swallowed hard. I certainly didn’t want that to change. I hate being on Aunt Tillie’s list. It usually ends with my pants not fitting, or a big zit in the middle of my forehead, or a noxious bacon smell emanating from my armpits. The woman is evil. “Fine,” I said. “When our mothers complain, though, you’re going to tell them you made us help.”

  “Fine,” Aunt Tillie said. “If you want to be a ‘fraidy’ cat, go ahead. Blame it on the old lady.”

  I rolled my eyes. “I thought you were in the prime of your life?”

  “Don’t push me,” Aunt Tillie said. “I’ve had just about enough of your mouth for one day.”

  Funnily enough, I was just getting warmed up. When I opened my mouth to see just how far I could push things, something else caught my eye. I was on my feet within seconds, my gaze trained on a small girl as she stumbled down the middle of the road. She seemed dazed – and lost.

  “What? You’re suddenly speechless?” Aunt Tillie asked. When I didn’t return my attention to her, she followed my gaze. “Holy tarantula spiders.” Aunt Tillie was moving before I had a chance to regain my faculties.

  Crap. There’s never a dull moment at The Overlook.

  Two

  I followed Aunt Tillie to the road, Bay close at my heels. We all slowed our pace as we approached her. She was small, about eight years old if I had to guess. Her hair was long and dark, her pale features streaked with dirt and blood, and her green eyes were vacant.

  “Are you okay, honey?” Aunt Tillie was the first one to reach the girl.

  She stilled when she caught sight of us, her eyes finally focusing. She looked terrified.

  Bay reached out for the girl carefully, brushing her long brown hair out of her face so she could get a better look. “Are you hurt?”

  The girl didn’t answer.

  Bay looked to me for help. I shrugged. I had no idea what to do in a situation like this. If you need someone ticked off, call me. If you need someone to feel better, call anyone else. I knelt down in front of the girl so I could meet her gaze on an even level. “Can you tell us your name?”

  Still nothing.

  Aunt Tillie snapped her fingers in front of the girl’s face, causing her to jolt and take a step backwards.

  “Stop that,” I snapped, slapping Aunt Tillie’s hand away from the girl’s face. “You’re scaring her.”

  “I was just trying to see if she was deaf,” Aunt Tillie sniffed.

  “She’s not deaf,” Bay said, studying the side of the girl’s head seriously. “She’s hurt.”

  “What do you see?”

  “She’s got a bump,” Bay said. “There’s a cut right here, too. I think that’s where the blood came from.” Bay focused on the girl. “Do you have any other injuries?”

  The girl didn’t make a move to respond. She didn’t shake her head, or nod. She didn’t even open her mouth. She just stood there.

  “I think we need to get her inside the inn,” Bay said, straightening. “She’s unresponsive. We need to call an ambulance.”

  “And the police,” I added, shooting a warm smile in the direction of the girl. “I’m sure someone is missing our little friend here.”

  The girl suddenly made a move, just not the one I was expecting. She reached out and grabbed a piece of my blue hair, running it through her fingers as she studied it.

  “It’s blue,” I said. “Do you like the color?”

  The movement was hesitant, but the girl nodded. Well, it was something. At least we knew she understood us. I held out my hand. “Will you come with us? We can get you some food, and something to drink.”

  “And hopefully find out where you belong,” Bay said.

  The girl tentatively reached her hand out and placed it in mine as she let us lead her back to The Overlook. It wasn’t much, but it was a start.

  “OH, YOU poor thing,” Winnie cooed as she moved toward the anxious girl.

  We’d only been inside for three minutes when our mothers descended with cookies, juice and fresh hand towels.

  The girl visibly shrank as she buried her head into my side. I held up my free hand to ward them off. “You’re overwhelming her.”

  “She’s hurt,” Mom said, nonplussed. “She needs to be taken care of.”

  “Why don’t you call Landon?” I suggested to Bay. “He might be able to help us here.”

  Bay nodded as she pulled her cellphone out of her pocket. “I’ll do it in the other room. You know, little ears … .”

  “I think we should take her to the hospital,” Marnie said. “She’s clearly been hurt.”

  “I think we should feed her,” Winnie argued.

  “I think I should give her a hug,” Mom said, dropping to her knees and holding her arms out wide. Mom’s first response whenever anyone is hurt – or annoyed – is always to hug, even if her Ronald McDonald hair is enough to terrify anyone with a healthy fear of clowns.

  “We’re trying not to traumatize her, Mom,” I said.

  Mom swished her mouth from side to side, offended. “I’m not trying to traumatize her. I’m trying to … love her.”

  “Someone needs to get you a cat,” I grumbled. I glanced down at the child. “Do you want to sit at the table?”

  She shook her head.

  “Would you do it if you were sitting on my lap?”

  The girl tilted her head to the side, considering. Finally, she nodded. I sighed as I sat down at the end of the table and patted my lap. She climbed up quickly, immediately reaching for the glass of orange juice Winnie had placed there to entice her. She slammed it so fast I thought she was going to choke herself.

  “Slow down,” I said. “You can have as much of it as you want.”

  “Why don’t we get her some water,” Marnie said after a minute. “I think she might be dehydrated.”

  “Which means she needs food,” Winnie said.

  “Fine, Winnie, she needs food,” Marnie said, rolling her eyes. “The answer to everything is food. You just have to be right. Why don’t you see if you can shove some food down her throat and really terrorize her?”

  “Why don’t you shut your mouth,” Winnie snapped back.

  “Why don’t you both shut your mouths,” I suggested. I glanced back at the little girl. “Do you want some food?”

  She nodded, her green eyes big.

  “What do you want?”

  She didn’t answer.

  “Do you want a sandwich? How about some soup?”

  Still nothing.

  “How about some cookies?” Winnie suggested.

  The girl nodded enthusiastically.

  Winnie disappeared into the kitchen and returned two minutes later with a plate of fresh cookies and a glass of milk. The girl shoved two of them into her mouth at the same time and munched away happily.

  “She needs something more substantial than cookies,” Mom said.

  “We’re having roasted chicken, vegetables, potatoes and chocolate cake for dinner,” Marnie said. “I’m sure she can find something there that she likes.”

  “Do you think she’s still going to be here at dinner?” I asked.

  The girl stilled on my lap and stared up at me, worried.

  I realized my mistake almos
t immediately. “You can stay here as long as you want,” I said. “This is an inn. There are a lot of bedrooms, and there are a lot of people staying here. You’ll be safe.”

  The girl didn’t look convinced.

  “It’s going to be okay,” I said. “I promise.”

  The girl finally started working her jaw again as she devoured the cookies. She wasn’t talking, but she was relaxing – if only a little. I’d take it, for now at least.

  “LOOK who I found out by the road selling wine.”

  Landon, his hand on the nape of Aunt Tillie’s neck as he dragged her with him, strode into the dining room with a dark look on his face.

  “We wondered where she was,” Bay said, giving Landon a quick kiss.

  Landon grabbed her neck long enough to deepen the kiss and then turned to everyone else. “Were you aware she was selling wine at a stand like it was lemonade?”

  “We knew she was going to do it,” I said. “We got distracted by … .” I lowered my eyes to the girl on my lap. She’d refused to move, and it had been more than an hour. I was going to have to figure out a way to extricate myself from her – and soon – because I really had to go to the bathroom.

  “I can’t believe she used the discovery of a hurt child to go behind our backs,” Winnie said.

  Landon cocked an eyebrow. “I share your outrage. It’s completely unlike her to use a distraction to get what she wants.” Landon let go of Aunt Tillie. “You stay right here,” he warned. “I’m not done with you yet.”

  “What is that supposed to mean?” Aunt Tillie asked.

  “It doesn’t mean anything,” Landon said. “It just means I can only focus on one thing at a time. A small child wandering down a country road is more of a concern for me than you illegally selling wine that could kill the liver of a healthy adult in five minutes flat. That doesn’t mean I’m just letting that go.”

  Aunt Tillie wrinkled her nose. “You’re on my list.”

  “Well, then it should be a fun weekend,” Landon said, moving slowly in my direction. It was obvious he was trying to approach the girl in the easiest way possible. “Hey, sunshine,” he said, smiling widely. “How are you?”