“And yet you plan to live out there.”
“Yes, but she’s older ... and already has a house. Landon and I would most likely raise a family out there before growing old together.”
“You assume,” Wayne countered. “If you don’t marry you’ll have no claim to that property. But as for the house, I’m not sure how things will go. I’ll probably put it on the market again by the end of the day — just in case there are interested buyers passing through. But I don’t expect any nibbles for at least a week or so.”
I was flabbergasted — and a little disgusted. “How can you put that house on the market without knowing who owns it?”
“The owner is dead.”
“Yes, but she probably had a will.”
“She was divorced. She won’t be leaving the house to her ex-husband. It’s likely she had no heirs.”
“That doesn’t mean you get to sell her house,” I argued. “Everything has to go through probate. That will likely take six months. You can’t just sell the house ... or try to renegotiate a deal that didn’t close.”
“It’s possible that Heather’s heirs — if she has any — might want to reverse the sale. If so, someone else can swoop in and buy it from the bank.”
“But you have no knowledge of that.”
“I plan to by the end of the day.”
He sounded sure of himself and yet something felt off. “You know something. What is it?”
Now he feigned innocence. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“You’re lying.”
“That’s not a very nice thing to say.”
I thought about hurling a few more insults, but it wouldn’t matter. They would simply bounce off him because he had no sense of shame. “Fine. I don’t have time to dig for whatever you’re hiding. I’ll put someone else on the job.”
Wayne’s smirk was pronounced. “Should I expect a visit from your beloved FBI agent in the near future?”
“Oh, no. I know everybody in this town thinks he does everything for me, but I have a different interrogator in mind for you.”
“Terry? I’m not afraid of him either.”
“Chief Terry is tied up in the same investigation Landon is knee-deep in right now. I wasn’t thinking of either of them.”
“Well, don’t keep me in suspense.”
I had no intention of doing anything of the sort. “Aunt Tillie.”
He swallowed hard, some of the color fleeing his cheeks. “I don’t understand.”
I had him now. “Aunt Tillie,” I repeated. “She’s never liked you and she hates Mrs. Little. This little mission sounds right up her alley.”
“And what do you think?” he challenged, finding his backbone. “Do you think I’m going to crumble in the face of ... well, whatever odd things she comes up with?”
“That’s exactly what I think.”
“You should probably brace yourself for disappointment.”
“We shall see.”
Fifteen
People sniffing around Heather’s property when she was still laid out on the autopsy table in the medical examiner’s office gave me pause. I had no idea the land was considered so valuable. Of course, I’d never given it much thought. The people who owned the property before Heather had it for years. I almost never saw them, because they were uber-rich and only used the house as a weekend getaway in summers.
“You look like your head is about to start smoking,” Clove noted when I wandered into Hypnotic several minutes after leaving Wayne’s office. “Are you in the middle of an epiphany or something?”
“What?” I shook myself from my reverie and focused on Clove. “Um ... no. I was just thinking about something.”
“I believe that’s what she suggested,” Thistle said from her spot on the floor. She was rearranging shelves in the candle department, and she didn’t look happy. “Where have you been all morning?”
“I took a nap for two hours.”
Thistle smirked. “Without Landon? He’s going to be miffed. He told Marcus one of his favorite things to do is to sneak over from the police department when he’s supposed to be working and nap with you. He says it feels illicit and dirty.”
I wrinkled my nose. “It makes him feel dirty to sleep in the middle of the afternoon?”
Thistle shrugged. “Don’t ask me. I thought it sounded weird too. Marcus thinks it’s funny.”
“Well, I didn’t mean to fall asleep, but I was tired.”
“We had a late night,” Thistle confirmed. “I slept for an hour at home this morning.”
“Yes, you had a late night,” Clove said shrilly, her eyes flashing. “You two, out by yourselves. Without me. You had a late night together.”
“You didn’t miss anything,” I reassured her.
“Really? I heard I missed s’mores ... and lots of talk about Dani ... and a nice bonfire. You know I love bonfires.”
“You also missed crossing the lake in a magically powered canoe in the middle of the night and watching Bay almost get thrown down a flight of stairs by a crazy ghost,” Thistle pointed out. “Did you really want to be part of that?”
Clove jutted out her chin and nodded. “I did.”
I stared at her for a moment and then started laughing. “You did not. You just have fear of missing out. Trust me, you were better off far away from what happened last night.”
Clove protested. “I don’t like being left out. We’re supposed to do stuff as a unit. The three of us. We’ve been together since we were kids. Now you guys are constantly going off without me. It’s not fair.”
“Hey, we’re not the ones who can’t figure out how to read the instructions on a birth control packet,” Thistle fired back. “We’re not the ones who changed the dynamic of this trio. That would be you. You insisted on getting engaged and then pregnant and then married. That’s on you.”
Clove’s expression turned dark. “I’ve always wanted to get married. You know that. You two are purposely cutting me out because I got married, and that’s not fair.”
“We’re not purposely cutting you out,” I countered, making a face when my stomach constricted. “By the way, you need to stop that. Your emotions are riled up again and you’re making things difficult for Thistle and me. You need to learn to rein that in.”
Clove rolled her eyes. “I can’t always help it. I have hormones and they’re off the charts.”
“I get that, but we have responsibilities,” I fired back. “There are times you’re around and I can’t get through a meal without wanting to cry.”
Clove was obviously miffed. “Try being me. Everything makes me want to cry. Hallmark movies? I sob like a baby.”
“So don’t watch them,” Thistle fired back. “They’re crap anyway. If you’re going to watch something and affect our moods, go for the horror. At least that way we’ll be in butt-kicking mode.”
“Actually, I don’t think we will,” I countered. “Think about it. We feel emotionally overwhelmed when she’s watching a sappy movie about a prince falling in love with his fair maiden, even though we’d be angry because it borders on sexual harassment if we watched it. We’re feeling her feelings.”
Thistle tapped her bottom lip, considering. “Ugh, you’re right,” she said after a beat. “I never really considered it, but you’re totally right. If she watched a horror movie, we would spend the next eight hours terrified because she’s afraid of slasher villains.”
“I’m not afraid of them,” Clove argued defiantly. “I just think they’re ... stupid.”
“Really?” Thistle didn’t look convinced. “That wasn’t you who insisted we sleep with the light on for a week after watching A Nightmare on Elm Street when we were, like, eighteen and nineteen?”
Clove balked. “That doesn’t count. He’s creepy. The others aren’t creepy.”
“I seem to remember you refusing to go into the woods for almost a month after we did a Friday the 13th marathon in middle school,” I volunteered.
>
“He carries a machete and is deformed under that mask,” Clove practically screeched. “He’s terrifying.”
“But you would make us strong after watching a horror movie.” Thistle shook her head. “Crap! This means we have to confiscate her television until she’s no longer pregnant so her fear doesn’t overtake us at the worst possible time.”
Clove stomped her foot. “You’ll pry that television out of my cold, dead hands. I need my cooking shows.”
“Which probably explains why I’ve been hungry for two months straight and have to lay flat on the bed to zip my pants lately,” I said. “She watches the shows and we eat the calories.”
“Oh, that’s just crap!” Thistle stewed. “You’re banned from watching cooking shows.”
Clove was having none of it. “Then what am I allowed to watch? I need to entertain myself when you two are off having adventures without me. That’s only fair.”
Before the argument could devolve further, the chimes over the door jangled to signify someone entering. When I snapped my head up, I found Landon watching us with speculative eyes.
“Do I even want to know what you are fighting about now?” he asked, his gaze busy.
“Clove has been watching cooking shows and making us feel her emotions,” Thistle snapped. “Now we’re eating extra calories because of her. In essence, she’s making us fat.”
“Oh, well, things could be worse,” Landon offered. “She could be watching horror movies and you guys could be quaking under your covers. Now that I think about it, I like that idea. You should go home and watch the entire Halloween series, Clove. That way I know Bay will be safe for the foreseeable future.”
I shot him a quelling look. “How am I not safe? You see me standing here, right? I’m totally safe.”
“Yes, well, you almost flew down a flight of stairs yesterday.” He moved closer to me, his hand automatically moving to my forehead to check for a temperature. “You scared the crap out of me.”
I grabbed his wrist before he could pull away. “I’m sorry. Now we know that Valerie’s ghost is something to fear and we’ll adjust our approach. You have nothing to worry about.”
He held my gaze for a moment and then his expression softened. “I can’t help worrying. I’m kind of fond of you.” He leaned in and gave me a quick kiss. “Suck it up, because I can’t help but worry. It is what it is.”
“I guess.” I exhaled heavily to center myself and then wrinkled my nose. “Did you just come from the bakery?”
“What? No.” He shook his head. “Why?”
“You smell like ... .” I leaned forward and inhaled the heavenly aroma.
“Oh, he smells like warm doughnuts,” Clove volunteered. She’d moved closer to Landon and was now practically plastered across his back. “And not just warm doughnuts, warm doughnuts with chocolate frosting and sprinkles.”
“You can smell the sprinkles?” Landon pinned her with a warning look when her hands went to his back. “You can’t rub yourself all over me like that.”
“What? Oh, right.” After what seemed a monumental effort, Clove snapped out of it. “I’ll just be over here ... staring at the bakery.” She moved to the window. I was almost positive she was salivating. “We should head over and get a snack or something,” she said to Thistle.
“I just found out you’ve been making me eat empty calories for months,” Thistle argued. “I can’t have a doughnut now.”
Clove whined. “The baby is really hungry. Do you want her to starve?”
Thistle rolled her eyes and shook her head before focusing on me. “Do you believe this? We have months of this to go.”
I was barely listening because I couldn’t get my mind off Landon. “Aunt Tillie must’ve decided doughnuts were better than cookies,” I murmured, pressing close to Landon to sniff his neck. “I just ... think she might be the most brilliant woman in the world.”
Landon arched an eyebrow, his lips curving. “She just might be,” he agreed, switching course quickly. “Do you want to go back to your office and take a nap with me?”
“Sure,” I answered automatically. All I could think about was the marvelous smell.
“She already took a nap,” Thistle volunteered as she threw herself in the chair three feet away. She eyed Landon speculatively, but wisely kept her distance. “Goddess, you really do smell good. I wonder if she did the same thing to Marcus.” She lifted her chin and peered out the window toward the converted barn she shared with her boyfriend, her expression unreadable. “Maybe I should go see if he wants to have a late lunch.”
“Oh, no.” Clove wagged her finger as she looked Landon up and down, her eyes clouded. “You’re going to the bakery with me. You’re not going anywhere with Marcus, because I won’t see you for the rest of the afternoon and I don’t want to be by myself.”
Landon’s hand was busy rubbing my back. “Clove and Thistle have plans to eat all day,” he noted. “Let’s go back to your office and do something else, huh?”
“I just told you she already took a nap,” Thistle pointed out. “Apparently Mrs. Little woke her up. She had something important on her mind when she first got here, but she never told us what that something was. We got distracted when we realized Clove was making us gain weight — and now she can’t stop sniffing you.”
“I like that part.” Landon wrapped his arms around me and I could feel his lips curve against my forehead. “I’ll let you put sprinkles all over me if we can go back to your office right now,” he offered.
I was just about to agree when I felt a sharp tug on my hair. Thistle had gotten up without me realizing and was now pulling me away from the best thing I’d ever smelled.
“You need to focus,” she insisted, dragging me back to reality. “If you fall for this doughnut thing it’ll reinforce what happens when we smell like bacon. It’s just a scent. You have to keep your wits about you.”
That was easy for her to say. “You’re right,” I sighed. “I just ... he smells so good.” I tried to break free from Thistle and return to Landon, but she kept a firm hold on my hair.
“Don’t embarrass me,” Thistle warned. “You’re a grown woman. Keep your urges under control. If you’re not careful, you’ll jump him in public and we’ll never hear the end of it from Mrs. Little.”
I knew she was right. That didn’t mean the doughnut smell wasn’t divine. “I just can’t seem to think straight now that he’s here. I can’t explain it.”
“You know what would be fun,” Landon mused. “Aunt Tillie should make you smell like bacon and then we can mix the bacon and doughnut smells.” He didn’t seem bothered by the turn of events. “If she did that, we wouldn’t ever leave our bed again. That sounds like a perfect existence.”
“I think you would be bored in a few days,” Thistle countered. “Besides, we need to focus on the reality of our situation and not how badly we all want to rush to the bakery and lick every doughnut on the premises.”
“I want a custard-filled one,” Clove said morosely.
“Doughnuts don’t have custard,” I said, completely distracted by Landon’s intense musk. “That’s an éclair, or a roll, or a long john. Doughnuts are something else entirely ... and I want one.”
Amusement lit Landon’s features. “This is kind of fun.”
“You’re just feeling powerful,” Thistle shot back. “We felt the same way the first time she made us smell like bacon. The feeling didn’t last because every creeper in the free world tried to feel us up that afternoon. It’ll happen to you with aggressive women.”
“I think I can fight off a handful of women.”
“I hope so, because Bay will draw the brunt of the town’s taunting if you don’t. People will give her pitying looks, and you’ll get tired of denying that you’re cheating on her. It will cause emotional upheaval even though, in her heart, Bay knows you wouldn’t cheat on her. It won’t be nearly as much fun as you think.”
“I ... .” Landon broke off and rubbed
his chin. “I didn’t think about any of that.” He brushed the hair from my face. “How long do you think Aunt Tillie is going to play this game?”
That was a good question. “I have no idea.”
“You guys have to be careful around one another,” Thistle warned. “In fact, you’ll have to be careful with dudes and chicks, Landon. It’s not just women who like doughnuts.”
Landon’s face paled. “I did not think about that.”
His response made me grin. “It’s not so funny now that the curse is on the other foot, is it?”
“I ... we’ll see.” He refused to let go of his dream regarding me and the doughnut aroma. “I actually came here for a reason. Apparently some slimy real estate agent has already started making calls to find out who will inherit Heather’s house. I wanted to know what you guys could tell me about him.”
“Wayne.” I crashed back to reality in a hurry. “I already talked to him today.” I filled Landon in on my wake-up call from Mrs. Little and my visit with Wayne. When I finished, he seemed genuinely puzzled.
“What do you think is going on?” he asked. “There must be something about the land itself that’s causing them to act this way.”
“The only thing I can think of is the pirate story.”
Landon made a face. “You mean the pirate of the Great Lakes?” He was dubious. “That story doesn’t make a lick of sense. Why would Mrs. Little want that house so badly now? It’s been around for years.”
“Yeah, but it was owned by the Lakin family,” Thistle volunteered. She’d pulled even farther away from Landon and refused to make eye contact. “They’re really rich. Like ... Hollywood dynasty rich. They had a stake in Detroit’s early automotive years if I remember correctly. They had that big house and came up about five times a year. It was a total waste. There were only two parcels on the lake, but Mrs. Little couldn’t convince them to sell.”
“And we took the bigger parcel when I bought the camp,” Landon said. “Do you think this is a reaction to us buying that land?”
To Love a Witch Page 15