4 Witching On A Star (4 page)

“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.

“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.

“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.”

“You’re going to feel really bad if Aunt Tillie is dying,” Clove sniffed.

“She’s not dying,” my mom said quickly. “At least not today.”

“Tomorrow?” Thistle asked hopefully.

“Your cousin is right,” Twila chided. “You’re going to feel really bad one day when your Aunt Tillie really does pass to the great beyond and you remember all the horrible things you’ve said about her.”

Thistle looked like she wanted to press the situation, but she wisely decided against it. “Fine. Aunt Tillie is a wonderful human being. She’s sunshine and light and blooming flowers. What about her is so important that you had to wake us up at the ass crack of dawn about?”

“As you know,” my mom started, like she was giving a formal presentation to a bunch of stockholders. “We have decided to gift your Aunt Tillie with a greenhouse of her own choosing.”

“Yeah, we were there when the announcement was made,” I replied blandly.

My mom shot me her patented “shut your mouth” look and continued. “Unfortunately, with spring here, we’re just too busy to help her with the minutiae of planning,” she said.

Wait a second.

“So,” my mom plowed on. “We were thinking that we would put the three of you in charge of the project.”

“Over my dead body!” Thistle exploded.

My mom ignored her and turned to me. “Don’t you think that’s a good idea?”

“Only if I get to use Thistle’s dead body as a shield,” I replied dryly.

“Why us?” Clove whined.

“We’re being punished,” Thistle grumbled.

“You’re not being punished,” Marnie said. “It’s just that we’re so busy we don’t have time to give. We’ve got a big group of people coming to the inn in several days that we have to get ready for.”

“And the grounds still need a lot of work from the winter,” Twila added. “They’re a mess.”

“And we have a lot of spring cleaning that needs to be done,” my mom said quickly, averting her gaze from mine. “We’re just too busy. We run a business, and that takes a lot of work.”

“We run a business, too,” Thistle reminded my mom. “Clove and I have a bunch of stuff we have to do ourselves to get ready for the season.”

“Yes, but your stuff isn’t nearly as monumental as our stuff,” my mom replied.

Thistle narrowed her eyes dangerously. “That seems a little presumptuous.”

“What about Bay?” Clove interjected hastily. “She only has one edition of the paper to put out a week and she doesn’t have any extra work because it’s spring.”

“Hey!”

“Sorry,” Clove shot me an apologetic look – one that said she was sorry for throwing me under the bus, not for what she said.

“We agree that Bay should be the point person,” my mom said. “She has more time and a good head for things like this.”

“This is crap,” I complained. I knew the backhanded compliment was just a way to get me to crumble.

“Bay is a great organizer,” Thistle said with faux enthusiasm. “Putting her in charge was a great idea. Good job.”

I openly glared at her.

“Bay is in charge,” my mom repeated. “You two are helping, though.”

“But Bay is in charge,” Clove repeated carefully.

“Yes,” my mom nodded. “However, if she needs your help, then you two are to help her. No complaints. No whining. Just do it.”

“So, what you’re really saying, is that Bay is in charge?” Thistle looked like she was about ready to explode again.

“That’s exactly what I’m saying,” my mom said succinctly and then straightened up. “Now you three get dressed. You get those lumps out of bed in the other rooms. You come up to the inn for breakfast. After that, Bay, the contractor should be here for a discussion and then we can get started.”

“You’re only doing this to keep Aunt Tillie busy,” I said tiredly. “How come it looks like I’m the one that’s going to be busy?”

“This is family,” Marnie said primly. “We all do our part.”

“And what part are you doing?” Thistle challenged her.

“We’re paying for it. You want to switch jobs?”

Thistle turned to me and shrugged. “How bad could it be?”

“Why do you keep asking that?” I grumbled. I had a feeling I knew exactly how bad it could be.

FORTY-FIVE
minutes later, the five of us were down at the inn and seated at the dining room table. I had filled Landon in on the big meeting and his response had been a loud bark of laughter and then twenty minutes of urging me to hurry up so we could get breakfast. My mom and aunts had won him over with their cooking – and he wasn’t even a little ashamed of it.

“This is delicious,” Landon said, enthusiastically dipping his pancakes in a mountain of syrup. “You guys are seriously the best cooks ever.”

My mom beamed at Landon. “You’re such a sweet boy. I can’t think of a sweeter boy. I’m so glad you’re dating my daughter.”

Thistle leaned across the table and met Landon’s sparkling eyes with her decidedly darker ones. “She’s offering you candy, Landon. Don’t get in the car.”

Landon shook his head and ignored Thistle. “So, this greenhouse is going to be a big deal, huh?”

“It’s going to be beautiful,” Twila agreed. “Aunt Tillie is going to love it.”

“Where is Aunt Tillie?” I asked worriedly.

“She already ate her breakfast in the kitchen,” my mom said. “She’s upstairs gathering her stuff for the contractor. She’s very excited.”

“What stuff?” I asked around a mouthful of pancake.

“That’s attractive,” my mom chided me. “Swallow before you speak.”

“Yeah, Bay,” Thistle said, shoving a huge forkful into her own mouth and then smiling at me widely.

I swallowed exaggeratedly and then turned back to my mom. “What stuff is Aunt Tillie gathering?”

“Her plans,” my mom shrugged.

“What plans?”

“I don’t know. I haven’t seen them.”

“Why do I think this greenhouse is going to be bigger than the inn by the time she’s done?”

“Because you’re a pessimist,” my mom said. “The contractor knows the budget. Your Aunt Tillie can’t deviate from that.”

“Like that will stop her,” I muttered.

“You’re in charge,” my mom reminded me.

“Does Aunt Tillie know that?”

“She does now,” my mom replied, glancing down at her plate evasively.

Oh, great. “And how did she take it?”

“She’s fine with it.”

“Really?”

“Are you calling me a liar?”

“I’m calling you a big fat fibber,” I challenged her. “There’s no way Aunt Tillie is fine with me being in charge.”

“You’ve got that right,” Aunt Tillie charged into the dining room. My mouth dropped open in surprise when I saw her. She was wearing work coveralls and a bright pink hardhat. “I’ve decided to make the best of the situation, though.”

“Where did you get a hardhat?”

“This old thing? I’ve had it for years,” Aunt Tillie said dismissively. “Are you done shoving food in your face? The contractor just pulled up outside.”

Even I had to admit that her enthusiasm was kind of cute. “Just a second,” I sighed.

Aunt Tillie was halfway back through the kitchen door when she stopped and turned back to me. “If you get all fat and dumpy – and that’s what’s going to happen if you keep eating like that – then Landon’s not going to want to stay with you.”

She wasn’t so cute anymore. I glanced over at Landon and saw him smiling as he continued to eat. “You think that’s funny?”

“I think this whole family is funny.”

“Give it time,” Thistle grumbled. “By the time this construction project is in full swing, we’re going to be downright hilarious.”

“I can’t wait,” Landon replied with an impish grin and a small wink.

I could.