How Aunt Tillie Stole Christmas

by Amanda M. Lee

  I waved off the statement, unbothered. “Winnie always acts as if she’s about to have kittens,” I said. “She’ll be fine. Plus, me taking the girls means my nieces have more time to dote on the boys. I think they need it more.”

  “I’d be lying if I said it wasn’t good for them,” Terry said. “They seem to like the attention. I’d also be lying if I said they weren’t a little confused about why you four keep disappearing.”

  “We’re stealing Christmas,” Clove replied simply.

  “Stealing Christmas?” Terry furrowed his brow. “What does that mean?”

  “She’s just confused.” I forced a smile as I cuffed the back of Clove’s head. “The little scamp gets confused far too often.”

  “Hey!” Clove’s face lit with fury. “That hurt.”

  “It hurt almost as much as when you drove over the curb and our heads almost hit the ceiling of the truck,” Thistle added, grinning slyly when Terry’s face twisted. She knew exactly what she was doing … and she was getting off on it.

  “Thank you, Thistle,” I gritted out. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

  “I know.”

  “Why did you drive over the sidewalk like that?” Terry challenged. “You have three young girls in the truck with you. They could’ve been hurt.”

  I made a dismissive motion with my hand. “They’re fine. They were in their seatbelts. Thistle is simply exaggerating. That’s what she does.”

  “I don’t doubt she’s exaggerating,” Terry argued, “but that doesn’t explain why you did what you did.”

  “Oh, that. I decided I wanted to see what everyone was doing here, and it was too late to hit the access road.”

  “You could’ve turned around.”

  “Meh. That would’ve taken more time … and we’re low on time.”

  “I don’t even want to know what that means,” Terry muttered, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I saw the cars, too. That’s why I stopped.”

  “Oh, well, let’s see what they’re doing.” Instead of waiting for his response, I grabbed Thistle by the back of the neck and marched her forward. “You’re definitely on my list,” I hissed into her ear.

  “Hey, if you don’t have time to turn around and drive on the actual road, you don’t have time to make a list,” Thistle reasoned.

  “I’ll make time.”

  “Not until you get what you want.” Thistle was trying to sound rational. “You’ll forget what you were even mad about by then.”

  “I’ll never forget.”

  “We’ll see.”

  I lifted my eyes and found Terry staring as he walked between Bay and Clove. He was clearly suspicious. Thankfully for me, that suspicion turned to outright fury as we entered City Hall and he realized a town meeting was taking place.

  “What’s going on here?” Terry yelled as he took a step forward.

  Margaret, who sat at the head table, made a face when she saw us come through the door. “I believe you’ll find that this is an emergency meeting.”

  “Of what?”

  “The town council.”

  “You can’t have a special meeting of the town council without proper notification,” Terry argued, striding forward. The look he scorched Walkerville Mayor Harry Buttons with was downright terrifying. “I happen to know the bylaws. You have to make proper notification of a special meeting.”

  “This was an emergency meeting, not a special meeting,” Margaret clarified. “There’s a difference.”

  “No, there’s not,” Terry argued. “What is this meeting even about?”

  “I believe I’ll let the mayor fill you in,” Margaret replied stiffly, averting her gaze.

  Hmm. Her reaction seemed to signify that she expected us to be angry – or at least vocal – regarding whatever was about to happen.

  “We’re discussing the boys that are being fostered within the township limits.” Harry chose his words carefully. “Given last night’s fire, we believe that some decisions need to be made if we want to keep the residents safe.”

  Oh, well, that was so much worse than I initially envisioned.

  “Excuse me?” Terry was beside himself. “The fire at the Michaelson house was determined to have come from an electrical box.”

  “And yet the fire chief says accelerants were used as well,” Harry argued.

  “No. I talked to Ben myself,” Terry said. “I wanted to confirm what he told my officers. Ben said that he accidentally spread the gasoline when he was moving his can from the backyard – where he keeps his generator – to the front. He was working on a lawnmower.

  “It doesn’t really matter, though,” he continued. “The inspector believes the fire originated at the fuse box. That was nowhere near the purported accelerants.”

  “Yes, and we happen to think that story is a little too convenient,” Harry said.

  “We?” I challenged, moving forward. “Listen, Hairy Bottom, I know you spend most of your time hiding in a bottle and letting Margaret lead you around by the short and curlies, but if you think I’m going to allow that to happen this time you’re crazier than the woman sitting next to you.”

  “Don’t you even think about saying something crass like that!” Margaret barked.

  “I hate to agree with her,” Terry said, keeping his voice low. “You took me to a scary visual place there.”

  “Good. That’s what I was trying to do.” I kept my gaze focused on Harry, the worm. The good news is he’s even more afraid of me than he is of Margaret. “By the way, I was talking about his nose hair.”

  Terry rolled his eyes. “Whatever.”

  “You can’t blame that fire on those boys,” I said. “You don’t have proof, and I believe this is still the United States of America. That means you can’t be punished without proof.”

  “I think that’s a bit of an oversimplification, but I like the overall message,” Terry added.

  “Besides, they didn’t do it,” Bay said, her eyes flashing. “They’re innocent. You’re just trying to be mean … like you always are!”

  “Since when do we allow children to speak at town meetings, Harry?” Margaret asked, glaring at Bay. The expression on her face was enough to infuriate Terry.

  “Don’t even look at her,” Terry warned, stepping in front of Bay. “She has every right to say what’s on her mind. She’s a Walkerville resident, too. This is her home. If she doesn’t like what you have to say, she’s allowed to say why.”

  “She can’t vote, so she can’t argue,” Margaret shot back. “That’s one of the bylaws.”

  “And this isn’t an official meeting,” Bay challenged. “You can’t make decisions at a special meeting that’s been illegally called.”

  “Bay, what are you doing?” Terry asked under his breath, surprise at her fortitude washing over his features.

  Bay ignored the question and strode forward. “You can’t call a special meeting – emergency or otherwise – without putting a notice in the newspaper.”

  Margaret narrowed her eyes. I recognized the expression for what it was: anger. Bay was right, though how she knew that was anyone’s guess. Margaret was about to go after her because she knew Bay was telling the truth. Hmm. That was mighty interesting.

  “The Whistler is a weekly newspaper,” Margaret pointed out. “We can’t schedule weekly emergencies, so … .”

  “If you don’t have time to put a notice in the newspaper then you’re supposed to put a notice in the front window of every business in town.” Bay’s voice was strong and clear as she stood with her hands on her hips. She looked formidable, which caused pride to swell in my chest. It seemed she listened to me a time or two after all. “There are no notices in business windows.”

  “How do you know that?” Harry asked, dumbfounded.

  “I read the township bylaws for my government class,” Bay replied. “I remember weird things.”

  I smiled, amused. “You do indeed. That ability is going to come in handy from time to t
ime.” I patted her shoulder. “Good job. I’ll take it from here.”

  “Not if you’re going to call him ‘Hairy Bottom’ again,” Terry warned.

  I pretended I didn’t hear the admonishment. “You have no proof that the fire at the Michaelson house was anything other than an accident. You’re using that accident to try to remove children from this town – children you’ve decided are somehow unworthy – and I won’t allow that to happen.”

  “I don’t believe we have to get your permission to do the right thing for this town,” Margaret argued.

  “Oh, but that’s where you’re wrong,” I said. “If you try to do something that forces those boys out of this town I will make your life a living hell.”

  “You’ve already done that.”

  “It can get worse, Margaret,” I hissed. “It can get much, much worse.”

  “She’s not lying,” Thistle said. “Instead of yellow snow you could be dealing with red rain … or purple pimples on your butt.”

  “Yellow snow?” Margaret narrowed her eyes until they were nothing more than twin slits. “I knew that was you.”

  “I have no idea what you’re talking about,” I said airily, shooting Thistle a blistering look before continuing. “It doesn’t matter. You called this meeting illegally. That means any decision you make here isn’t binding.”

  “And we can also file a complaint with the state,” Bay added. “The town could be fined.”

  Hmm. That brain of hers comes in handy occasionally. “And we’re just petty enough to file a complaint,” I added. “Not only that, I will take this story to the local television stations. I will blast your names from one end of the state to the other if I have to.”

  Margaret made a derisive sound in the back of her throat. “And you think they’ll care?”

  “A story about children being displaced and treated terribly because of the color of their skin before Christmas? I definitely think people will care.”

  Margaret was affronted. “This has nothing to do with some of them being black!”

  “I don’t believe you.” I honestly didn’t. “I will make sure this story is on every news station before the end of the night if you try something. Walkerville will become synonymous with racism by the time I’m done.

  “Think about it, Harry,” I prodded. “Do you want to be the poster child for racism?”

  Harry swallowed hard, his gaze bouncing between Margaret and me before shaking his head. “Meeting dismissed.” His voice was feeble, but Margaret clearly heard what he’d said.

  “No!” Margaret was outraged. “You can’t do this!”

  “I believe he just did, Margaret.” I offered her a saucy wink. “Oh, and even though it’s the holidays, you should probably watch your back.”

  “Yeah,” Thistle warned. “You’re on her list.”

  “So are you,” I snapped.

  “We’ll see.”

  Nine

  “Get me the ginger root,” I instructed Clove once we were back at the house. It was time to put things in order, and that started with “haunting” Daryl Lewis. We needed him to sign some papers, and to do that he had to be willing to put the boys ahead of himself. Because that was never going to happen, I needed to make him believe the only way to save himself was to release custody of the boys to his brother.

  “Can we make the ghost look disgusting and stuff?” Thistle asked as she shrugged out of her coat.

  “Absolutely.” I bobbed my head. “The grosser the better.”

  “I’m thinking we should make the ghost look like a zombie,” Bay suggested. “We should make sure that he thinks the ghost is Camille, but make it look like a zombie Camille.”

  “Good idea.” My girls were growing into their own and becoming forces to be reckoned with. I couldn’t be prouder if I’d birthed them myself.

  “Or we could just make the ghost look like Aunt Tillie,” Thistle suggested. “That would make him crap his pants.”

  Of course, they’re also pains in the behind.

  “We’ll stick with making the ghost look like Camille Forrester,” I said. “That reminds me, we need a photograph of her. How will we get one without making the boys suspicious by asking?”

  “Leave that to me.” Bay’s grin was impish. “I’ll take care of it.”

  “I bet you will.” I returned the smile before heading to the kitchen. I pulled up short when I found Winnie, Marnie and Twila toiling over dinner. Thankfully the boys weren’t in the room. It was obvious I was about to get an earful. “And how are you this fine afternoon, ladies?”

  Winnie rolled her eyes, annoyance evident. “That’s not going to work on us,” she said. “You’re in big trouble.”

  “You are,” Marnie agreed. “This is the second time today you’ve taken off with the girls without even leaving a note. We know you’re up to something. You’re starting to give those boys a complex because they think you don’t want to spend time with them.”

  “That’s just silly,” I said. “We’ve been out doing stuff for the boys. They’re going to have an excellent Christmas. Just you wait.”

  Winnie, her hands stuffed inside a turkey she was preparing for the following day, quirked an eyebrow. “Do I even want to know what that means?”

  “Probably not,” I conceded. “I’m going to tell you anyway.” I ran through our day, starting from the beginning, and when I got to the end, Winnie was flabbergasted.

  “You did all of that today?”

  “Don’t act so surprised. I’m quite industrious when I set my mind to something.”

  “But do you think it will work?” All thoughts of giving me a firm dressing down disappeared from Winnie’s eyes. She looked hopeful. “Do you really think we can get the boys placed with their uncle?”

  “I know I can,” I replied. “We’re already halfway there. By the way, Carl is coming for dinner tomorrow. We’re not mentioning the plan to the boys until everything is set. Just in case I fail … .” I trailed off. I never fail. Still, the boys had been disappointed enough. There was always the outside chance that something wouldn’t come together correctly.

  “I get it,” Winnie said, her lips curving. “You’re trying to do a good thing. The gifts are a nice touch, by the way. Terry said something about you buying gifts, but I thought he must have misheard you.”

  “Why would you think that?”

  “Because you’re not exactly known for your giving spirit,” Marnie replied. “You can’t help it. It’s just who you are.”

  “That’s not true,” Bay argued, appearing at the bottom of the spiral staircase. She had a photograph in her hand, which she handed to me. “That’s her.”

  I looked at the photo, took in the smiling countenance of the woman who given birth to David, Michael and Andrew, and felt myself getting a bit misty. The boys posed in the photograph with the woman. They were all younger, with wide smiles on their faces, but it was clearly a happy family.

  “Good job.” I shook my head to dislodge the melancholy. “How did you get this?”

  “I stole it from David’s bag.”

  “You stole it?” Winnie was horrified. “Bay, what were you thinking?”

  “She was thinking we need a photograph to make a convincing ghost,” I replied. “She was thinking that if we told the boys why we needed it they’d think we were crazy. They won’t even know. Bay can return the photo when no one is looking. It’s not as if she wants to keep it.”

  “I understand that, but … you know what? It’s fine.” Winnie held up her shiny hands. “If this works, you’ll give the boys the best Christmas gift they’ve ever had. I refuse to think about anything other than that.”

  “That’s probably wise.” I turned my eyes to Clove when she walked into the room. “Did you get what I asked?”

  Clove nodded. “We’ll haunt the crap out of this guy. I can’t wait.”

  “And then what?” Marnie asked. “Even if you get Daryl to sign the papers, how will you get the judge to d
o what you want so close to the holidays?”

  “The judge handling their case is Gerald West,” I replied. “He happens to owe me a favor.”

  “Judge West?” Twila widened her eyes. “The same judge who gave you custody of us? He must be ancient by now.”

  “He is,” I agreed. “But he’s still on the bench. He only does family cases now. Once I call and explain the situation, something tells me that he’ll agree to do the right thing.”

  “Only because he’s terrified of you,” Marnie muttered. “I still remember when Aunt Willa was trying to petition the courts to take Twila and you stormed in there to tell him exactly what would happen if he didn’t throw out the petition.”

  “I remember, too.” Winnie giggled at the memory. “You took us with you. At the time, I didn’t understand what you were doing. I understand now that you wanted us to know that you were fighting to keep us together, but back then I thought you just wanted us to see that you could make a grown man cry.”

  “He was young,” Twila said. “Back when he was handling our case, he was young.”

  “He’s not so young now, and I doubt that he’ll be as easily swayed,” I said. “That doesn’t mean he won’t come to the right conclusion. To be fair, though, I plan to camp out at his house tonight if he doesn’t do what I want.”

  “You’re going to his house?” The look on Winnie’s face told me what she thought of the idea. “He’ll have you arrested for stalking or trespassing.”

  “No, he won’t.” I didn’t bother to hide my eye roll “Don’t get me wrong, I fully intend to make sure that he wants to sign the papers and get me out of his hair as soon as possible. I have no intention of going alone.”

  “Who are you taking with you?”

  “The girls,” I replied without hesitation. “They’ve turned into wonderfully emotive and manipulative teenagers. If the judge won’t do what I want, I’ll simply allow Thistle to … well, be Thistle.”

  “And if that doesn’t work?”

  “Clove cries like a soap opera diva.”

  “And if that doesn’t work?”

  “Bay has turned into quite the little public speaker,” I said. “Don’t worry. Between the four of us, Judge West won’t stand a chance.”