Witching You Were Here (Wicked Witches of the Midwest Book 3) (11 page)

“It was. Once we had screamed ourselves hoarse she walked us back to the inn. She said it was worth it because we couldn’t talk anymore.”

“So, you’re sure that she’s not killing herself in the kitchen?”

“Absolutely.”

“I’m taking six aspirin at the same time!” Aunt Tillie yelled from the kitchen again. “With a bottle of wine!”

“She sounds serious,” Landon laughed. “Six aspirin couldn’t hurt her, right?”

My mom exchanged glances with Marnie and Twila. We were all pretty sure this was just another attention grab. The problem was, Aunt Tillie was known to take things to extremes to prove a point.

“Isn’t anyone going to come in here and make sure I’m not dead?” Aunt Tillie’s voice echoed from the kitchen.

“See, I told you.”

Landon chuckled to himself. “Have you guys considered putting her in a home?”

“No home would take her,” I said as I watched my mom and aunts reluctantly get to their feet and go into the kitchen. “Her reputation precedes her, believe me.”

“You wouldn’t really put her in a home, would you?” Landon watched me curiously for a reaction.

“Not today,” I said grimly.

“But some other day?”

“Probably not,” I blew out a deep sigh. “It’s just one of those threats we pull out from time to time.”

“So, it’s an empty threat.”

Mostly.

I glanced down the table and saw that everyone else was just sitting there and watching the door expectantly. I figured they thought more dinner theater would follow.

“So,” one of the slackers finally spoke. “What’s for dessert?”

“I’m guessing a big slice of humble pie,” Clove replied irritably.

“Does that have apples?”

The end of dinner couldn’t come fast enough. My mom and aunts managed to wrangle Aunt Tillie back to the table for dessert – but it sounded like a few things had been broken during the melee in the kitchen that followed their “intervention.”

When she got back to the table, I couldn’t help but notice that Aunt Tillie seemed a little too happy with herself – which wasn’t an uncommon emotion coming from her.

When most of the guests had cleared out, Thistle walked her dad to the front door. I couldn’t hear what they were saying, but Thistle didn’t look happy with the direction of the conversation. Whenever she used big gestures you just knew things were going downhill.

Landon moved up behind me, watching the scene in the next room unfold for a few minutes before speaking. “Are you trying to read lips?”

“No,” I scoffed. “Thistle will tell us what happened once she gets back to the house.”

“Then what are you doing?”

“Just making sure that everything is okay.”

“Are you going to rush in there and beat him up if it looks like things are going south?”

“I haven’t decided yet,” I said honestly.

Landon chuckled. “I think Thistle is capable of taking care of herself.”

“Yeah, maybe I’m here to make sure Uncle Teddy actually leaves the house,” I said. “There’s snow outside. It’s not so easy to hide a body when there’s snow.”

Landon shook his head. “Come on. I’ll walk you home.”

“I live on the property,” I reminded him.

“It’s dark,” Landon countered.

“Clove and Thistle will probably walk back with me.”

“Thistle looks busy,” Landon replied smoothly. “And I don’t see Clove.”

“She’s in the kitchen helping with dishes.” Which is where I should probably be.

“So I’m helping you out,” Landon smiled. “I’m saving you from another uncomfortable encounter with your Aunt Tillie.”

He had a point.

“My coat is in the back,” I said, a hint of mischief on my face.

“Where in the back?”

“The living room.”

“Where’s the living room?” Landon looked confused, glancing around at the various rooms of the inn that were visible.

“Through the kitchen, in the family living quarters,” I said sweetly.

Landon remained stoic, but I thought I saw a hint of the color wash from his face. “I guess I just assumed everyone lived in the rooms upstairs. I think I knew better, but for some reason I blocked it out.”

“Nope,” I smirked. “They have their own area that’s only accessible through the kitchen.

“So you’re saying that if I want to walk you home I have to see your family again?”

“Yup.”

“Let’s go,” Landon said resolutely.

“You still want to walk me home, even knowing that?”

“I still want to walk you home.”

I shook my head but started moving towards the kitchen anyway. Part of me was going to enjoy this.

When I opened the kitchen door, no one looked up from what they were doing. Landon followed me. I could tell he was nervous, but he was also set in the path he had chosen to take this evening. You had to admire him for his determination – especially in the face of the Winchester witches.

“So, this is where all the magic happens.”

My mom paused from the pan she was cleaning and looked up. If she was surprised to see Landon in the kitchen, she didn’t show it.

“I guess it depends on the kind of magic you’re referring to,” she said carefully.

Landon suddenly realized what he had initially said. “I was talking about the cooking,” he said hurriedly.

“Of course you were,” Aunt Tillie said from her recliner.

“It’s okay dear,” Twila patted him on the arm as she walked past. “You’ll get used to it.”

“If he sticks around,” Aunt Tillie said pointedly.

Landon fixed Aunt Tillie with an unreadable gaze. “I’m just going to walk Bay home.”

“She lives on the property,” Marnie pointed out.

“I’ve noticed,” Landon said dryly.

“I think it’s nice,” my mom said with a knowing smile.

I led Landon through the rest of the kitchen and into the back of the house. He cast a final look over his shoulder before the door swung shut and then turned to me. “Why is your Aunt Tillie getting ready to sleep in a chair in  the kitchen?”

“If she doesn’t, she’s afraid that they’ll throw her recliner out because it’s old.”

“Have they threatened to do that?”

“They had it out at the curb when she found it and dragged it back inside two weeks ago.”

“She dragged it back inside herself?”

“Yeah, she’s stronger than she looks.”

“I guess so.”

I shrugged into my parka, letting Landon look around the living room curiously. He had his immovable cop face on. The home was cozy, warm and inviting – at least when Aunt Tillie wasn’t around. I wasn’t sure what he was looking for, but he seemed to have found something of interest. I watched out of the corner of my eye as he walked up to the wall of photos on the far side of the living room.

I wandered up behind him and looked over his shoulder.

“Some of these are really old,” he said.

“Yeah,” I said, pointing to a black-and-white photo of a blonde woman that looked suspiciously like my mother. “That’s my grandmother.”

“And what happened to her?”

“She died when we were all really little,” I said.

“Do you remember her?”

“Not really,” I replied. “Aunt Tillie was always kind of our grandmother.”

“Your evil grandmother?”

“She’s not evil,” I said. “She’s got evil tendencies, but she’s not evil.”

“You love her,” Landon said with a knowing smile.

“Most of the time,” I acknowledged.

“You love her all the time, even when she’s being difficult.”

“She’s always being difficult,” I said.

“She wouldn’t be Aunt Tillie if she wasn’t. Right?”

“Pretty much,” I agreed.

The walk back to the gatehouse only took a few minutes, but it seemed longer in the brisk night air. When we got there, Landon waited at the door expectantly. “Are you going to invite me in?”

“Not tonight,” I said with a laugh.

“But some other night?” Landon asked hopefully.

“I haven’t decided yet,” I teased.

“Well, maybe I can help you decide.” Landon closed the distance between us quickly, grabbing me by the lapels of my coat and pulling me up so my lips were pressed firmly against his.

The kiss was brief, but intense. When I pulled away, our breath mingled together in misty goodness for an added second before disappearing.

“Now you want to let me in,” Landon said sagely.

“I do not,” I lied.

“It’s only a matter of time,” Landon smiled, letting go of my coat, and starting to walk back towards the inn.

“Where are you going? You haven’t gotten enough of Aunt Tillie?”

“My car is back at the inn,” Landon reminded me.

I had forgotten. “Don’t wake up Aunt Tillie,” I warned him.

“I’ll walk around the outside of the inn to the parking lot,” Landon laughed. “I like your family, but I’ve had enough of them for the night.”

“I don’t blame you.”

I watched as Landon turned back down the walk. I saw him step to the side to let Clove and Thistle by him. They were walking awfully fast and I could hear Thistle griping from where I stood.

“Aunt Tillie is unbelievable.”

“You sound like a broken record these days,” Clove chided her. “Goodnight, Landon,” she said when she walked past him.

“Goodnight, Clove,” Landon said. “Goodnight, Thistle.”

“What’s good about it?”

“Night, Bay,” Landon said as he continued on his way. I could hear him laughing from the front porch.

“What’s wrong?” I turned my attention to Thistle.

“Were you at the same dinner?”

I opened the front door of the gatehouse and let Clove and Thistle trudge inside before I closed the door behind me. I knew Thistle was just getting wound up.

“It was an unpleasant dinner,” I agreed. The walk home had been nice, though. “It’s not like Aunt Tillie’s attitude was a surprise, though. She’s done way worse things.”

“Not when my dad was there.”

“It’s not like your dad didn’t know what to expect either,” I reminded her.

“I know,” Thistle said, blowing out a frustrated sigh. “This is all just such a mess.”

“Maybe you should spend some time together away from the family,” Clove suggested.

“I don’t know if I want that either,” Thistle grumbled.

“Maybe you should sleep on it?” I said.

“Maybe,” Thistle agreed. “Maybe Aunt Tillie’s recliner will swallow her up during the night and one of my problems will be solved.”

“You can always hope,” I said sagely.

“Tomorrow we start planning our revenge,” Thistle said obstinately.

“On Aunt Tillie?” Clove asked squeakily.

“On Aunt Tillie,” Thistle agreed grimly.

This wasn’t going to end well for any of us.

“Get up!”

It took me a second to realize where I was. I was hoping I was still dreaming until a pair of blue jeans hit me in the head. I rolled over and looked towards the door of the bedroom and saw Thistle standing there, hands on hips, glare on face. Did I mention she was in her underwear?

“What’s going on?” I glanced at my bedside clock. It was 7 a.m. How could she possibly be having a freak-out before morning coffee?

“None of my pants fit,” Thistle seethed.

I propped myself up on my elbows and regarded Thistle irritably. “You woke me up to tell me your pants don’t fit? Pick a different pair. I had another fifteen minutes before I had to get up.”

“It’s not just one pair of my pants that don’t fit,” Thistle shot back. “It’s all of them.”

“How is that possible?”

“I’ll give you a hint,” Thistle said sarcastically. “She’s 4’11” tall, she’s got a mouth like a trucker and a vindictive streak as wide as the Grand Canyon.”

Aunt Tillie. Uh-oh.

“Well, wait a second,” I struggled to get out of bed. “Maybe you gained weight or something?”

Thistle shot me a withering look. “Overnight? I tried on the same pants I was wearing last night and I can’t get them buttoned.”

“What about Clove? Do her pants fit?”

“I don’t know,” Thistle said. “She’s trying them on now.”

I was still half asleep, but Thistle’s words were really starting to sink in. Crap. I jumped to my feet and slipped into the pants that I had discarded on the floor when I climbed into bed the night before. I was relieved to find that not only did they slide up easily but they buttoned and zipped up easily, as well.

“Mine still fit,” I blew out a sigh of relief.

“Well good for you,” Thistle’s tone was biting. She marched to my closet and pulled a pair of jeans off of a hanger. I watched with grotesque curiosity as she stepped into them and tried to pull them up. Things were going well until they got to her hips and then all forward momentum ceased. There was clearly enough extra fabric to keep going up, and yet the jeans just refused to move.