Aunt Tillie met my gaze briefly, her face sobering when she realized I knew. She turned her attention to her fingernails. “Well, I should be going,” she announced. “I think I need to walk off my dinner.”
She got to her feet and moved toward the front of the inn. “It’s been a splendid evening.”
“Bye,” Thistle said, giggling.
Now that I looked at her, she seemed happier than she had a few minutes before. Could the wine already be wearing off? That seemed doubtful. Aunt Tillie wasn’t a novice.
“I’ll walk you out,” I said, getting to my feet.
“That’s not necessary,” Aunt Tillie said, increasing her pace. “I know my way out.”
“Oh, it wouldn’t be fair to just let you go,” I said, chasing her. “It’s dark outside. Your night vision isn’t what it used to be.”
“I have the eyes of an owl,” Aunt Tillie said.
And the personality of a stinging nettle.
For an elderly woman in her eighties, Aunt Tillie can move when she wants to. Bad hip my … hey, where did she go? I found her on the front porch, descending the steps quickly. “Why did you do this?”
“Do what?”
“You know what,” I said. “Are you that insecure?”
Aunt Tillie froze. “Insecure?”
“The Overlook isn’t going to be hurt by the Dragonfly,” I said. “The Overlook is already booked for the entire season. They have like two openings, and those will be taken any day now. Why are you so scared of the Dragonfly?”
Aunt Tillie swiveled. “I’m not scared of anything, young lady.”
I knew better than that. “Do you really think we’ll like them better? That we’ll love them more?”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Aunt Tillie said.
“They’re our fathers,” I said, ignoring her denial. “That doesn’t mean we love our mothers … or you … any less.”
“I didn’t say it did,” Aunt Tillie replied. “I know you’re loyal, Clove. I know that your cousins are just as loyal. I also know you’re all worked up right now. I don’t like it, and I blame them.”
“So, you decided to ruin the opening of their inn?”
“I didn’t know you all were going to be out here,” Aunt Tillie admitted. “When I found out, I tried to take the wine back. I was going to replace it with a spider infestation. I thought that would be more festive.”
“That’s why you were here, isn’t it? You were trying to steal the wine back.”
Aunt Tillie nodded. “It was already too late. I never wanted to hurt the three of you, or Landon and Marcus.”
I frowned. “What about Sam?”
Aunt Tillie shrugged. “I haven’t decided about Sam yet.”
“Does that mean you’ll give him a chance?”
“It means I haven’t decided yet,” Aunt Tillie said. “Don’t push your luck.”
I could live with that. Still … . “Why do you hate our fathers so much?”
“You don’t remember what it was like after they left, Clove,” Aunt Tillie said. “They broke six hearts when the left, and I had to pick up the pieces.”
“So, you just want payback?”
“It’s not payback,” Aunt Tillie said. “It’s a lesson.”
“And what lesson are you teaching them?”
“That life is full of choices,” Aunt Tillie said. “One of those choices should never be running away from your family.”
“They’re trying to make up for it now,” I argued.
“And, if they’re sincere, they’ll do just that,” Aunt Tillie said.
“Wait … is this a test?”
“I don’t test people,” Aunt Tillie said. “I teach lessons.”
“Oh, I know.” I blew out a frustrated sigh and pushed my hair off my forehead. “You have to at least help me get Thistle and Bay up to bed.”
“They’ll be fine,” Aunt Tillie said. “Thistle is just getting giddier and giddier. She’ll be a fun drunk all night.”
“Yeah, why is that? Why is Landon so angry, and why is Thistle so giddy?”
“The spell latches on to a specific part of a person’s personality, one they don’t put on display very often,” Aunt Tillie said.
“Landon is angry when he’s around us all the time,” I pointed out.
Aunt Tillie shook her head. “No, he’s not. He pretends to be angry. He’s not really angry, though. He finds us entertaining.”
“I’ve seen him very angry with Bay,” I said. “You saw him after we sneaked onto that boat and found those kids. He was livid.”
“That was fear, not anger,” Aunt Tillie said. “He was terrified something was going to happen to Bay. He lashed out because of the fear.”
I worried my bottom lip with my teeth. “And Sam? Why is he so relaxed?”
“Probably because he can never relax around us,” Aunt Tillie said, shrugging. “I’m not a psychiatrist. I can’t say for sure. I don’t blame him, though. He’s not very popular in the Winchester household.”
“You still have to help me,” I said. “If Landon and Jack come to blows, it’s going to hurt Bay more than anyone else. I know you don’t want that.”
“I don’t want that,” Aunt Tillie said. “The spell will work itself out, though. It should only be a few hours. You don’t need me here. My work is done.”
“No, it’s not,” I said, stomping my foot on the front porch for emphasis. “You made this mess. You have to help clean it up.”
“Yeah … I’m not going to do that. It’s almost my bedtime, and I want to catch Jimmy Fallon if I can. He’s very funny.”
“Yes, you are so helping,” I said, reaching deep inside of my soul to find my courage. “You have to help. We’re your family.”
Aunt Tillie groaned. “Fine. I’ll help Bay and Thistle. The rest of them are on their own.”
“Fine,” I said. What? It was something. Frankly, it was more than I’d ever gotten out of her before. “Let’s go and get them upstairs. Hopefully they’ll all just pass out and forget this whole night.”
Once we were back inside, that didn’t seem like an option.
“Holy crapsticks,” Aunt Tillie said, taking a step forward and surveying the mayhem. “You can’t blame this on me.”
Unfortunately, she was right. What was happening now was all my fault. The ghost was back, and it was putting on a show.
Eight
The dining room was … a mess.
It looked as if people had tussled, and I was hoping that it wasn’t Landon and Jack. I couldn’t dwell on that now, though. The overturned chairs and discarded wine glasses weren’t our biggest problems. No, that was the bright green light bouncing off the walls as it careened from one end of the room to the other.
Oh, and then there was the screaming. The unearthly sound emanating from the spirit was bloodcurdling.
“What the hell?”
“It’s a ghost,” Aunt Tillie said, pointing. “Are you blind?”
“I see it,” I snapped. “What should we do about it?”
“I kind of like it,” Aunt Tillie said. “It has good energy.”
The spirit screamed again.
“It sounds like it’s in agony,” I said, glancing back to the table. Most of the dinner guests had taken cover underneath the table, including our fathers and Sam. Bay and Thistle were standing, their faces unreadable as they watched the scene. Landon hadn’t bothered to get up, and Marcus was busily trying to protect an unmoving Thistle. “What are we going to do?”
“We have to send it away,” Aunt Tillie said.
“What a great idea,” I said, sarcasm positively dripping from my tongue. “Do you have any suggestions?”
Aunt Tillie clapped her hands loudly. “Hey! Go away!”
The light moved faster, and the keening increased in frequency and tone.
“Oh, well, that worked,” I deadpanned.
“No one needs your sass,” Aunt Tillie said. “If I’m not m
istaken, this is your fault.”
I pointed to my glassy-eyed cousins. “And that’s your fault. If they weren’t so … stoned … Bay might be able to talk to it.”
“Bay isn’t the only one who can talk to ghosts,” Aunt Tillie reminded me.
“So, talk to it.”
“Not until you adjust your tone, missy,” Aunt Tillie said. “I am not your slave.”
“Oh, good grief,” I grumbled. “We have to do something. This is going to totally ruin the whole weekend.”
“I know,” Aunt Tillie said, grinning. “I wish I had thought of this myself.”
“Aunt Tillie!”
She scowled. “Fine. There is one thing I can do.”
“Well, do it.”
Aunt Tillie widened her stance and spread her arms wide. I could feel magic being pulled to her core as it whipped past me. I had no idea where she was gathering it from, or how she was doing it without a circle – or something to anchor herself with. “Be gone!”
“Be gone? How is that going to work?” I pulled up short. The room had quieted, the only noise coming from the whimpering masses beneath the table. The light had also dissipated, although I had no idea for how long. “How did you do that?”
“I’m gifted.”
I turned to Bay, whose face was a blank slate. Thistle didn’t look much different. “We have to get them upstairs,” I said, keeping my voice low. “They’re going to be under attack, and they’re in no shape to deal with it.”
“They’re fine,” Aunt Tillie said, waving her hand dismissively.
I shook my head. “Since Thistle is your biggest fan right now, you and Marcus get her upstairs right now. I’ll handle Landon and Bay, and then I’ll come back for Sam.”
Aunt Tillie glanced under the table. “He looks like he’d be perfectly happy to sleep there.”
“Just … help me.”
“Fine,” Aunt Tillie said. “You’re such a worrier. That’s your worst quality. You know that, right?”
“Get them upstairs!”
“WHAT happened?”
It had taken work, but Marcus and I managed to get all of the guests to their rooms. Since they were decidedly drunk, we told them it was all part of the Hemlock Cove experience and not to worry. I’d taken the opportunity – when no one was looking, of course – to chant a small spell outside each bedroom to ensure sweet dreams. All of the guests were asleep once their heads hit the pillows.
I did the same for Sam. Even though he was aware of the existence of ghosts, he’d been terrified by the show. I had no idea how much of that was real, and how much of it was due to Aunt Tillie’s wine. I’d piled him into bed, wished him restful slumber, and left him in the bedroom alone.
There was a fire to put out on the main floor – and I was worried Aunt Tillie would be the one burned. Imagine my surprise when the only people left in the dining room were the Dragonfly’s proprietors.
“I’m not sure what happened, Dad,” I said.
“What was that?” Teddy asked.
I saw no sense in lying. “It was a ghost. I think. It’s a little more … scattered than the other ghosts I’ve seen, so I can’t be a hundred-percent sure.”
“Did you create it like you did last night?”
I sucked in a breath. It was time for some truth. “Technically, a real ghost appeared last night, too.”
“What?” Dad was incensed.
“Bay and Thistle created the initial light show,” I admitted. “Bay made the table dance a little, too. Somehow, though, we drew another ghost here. A real ghost.”
“And when were you going to tell us?”
I shrugged. “We were hoping to get rid of it before you knew,” I said. “We didn’t want you to freak out.”
“So, you lied?”
“We didn’t lie,” I said. “We just didn’t volunteer the truth.”
“Oh, well, that’s convenient,” Dad said. “Did your Aunt Tillie teach you that? Where is she, by the way? I have a feeling she had something to do with this.”
I bristled under the statement. “She didn’t have anything to do with the ghost,” I said. “We think … and I stress the word ‘think’ … that the ghost was already here. Bay and Landon have been doing some research.” I told them the story of Marian Lecter and her untimely passing. “The ghost was just attracted to the magic during the séance. It was an accident.”
“And we’re supposed to believe that this just happened at the same time Tillie showed up?”
I blew out a frustrated sigh. “She was here for a different reason.”
“And what reason is that?” Jack asked.
“I … she just wanted to check up on us.” Aunt Tillie wasn’t wrong when she said I was loyal. I wouldn’t throw her under the bus. No matter what.
“You’re lying,” Teddy said. “You always were the worst liar of the lot. I don’t know what you’re lying about, but you’re definitely lying now.”
“Hey, don’t talk to her that way,” Dad snapped.
Teddy took an involuntary step back. “I didn’t mean that. I don’t know why I said it.”
I did. “Why don’t you guys go up to bed,” I suggested. “I think everyone drank too much – and fought too much – tonight. We’re all on edge. We’ll talk about this in the morning.”
“What are you going to do?” Dad asked.
“I’m going to make sure everything is cleaned up,” I said, rolling up my sleeves.
“By yourself?”
“It’s fine,” I said. “It won’t take me very long. Everyone else is in bed, and you guys should join them.”
Dad looked unsure. “I don’t think … .”
“Just go,” I said, rubbing my forehead wearily. “Trust me. I could use the time alone to … decompress.”
I WORKED steadily, cleaning the dining room first and carrying all the dishes into the kitchen so I could wash them. I stacked everything in neat piles – just like my mother taught me – and then attacked a pile at a time.
After several minutes, I realized I wasn’t alone.
Dad had changed his clothes, and he was now dressed in flannel sleep pants and a T-shirt. He joined me wordlessly at the counter and started drying.
I broke the uncomfortable silence first. “I told you to go to bed.”
“I’m not tired,” Dad said.
“You should be. You drank enough wine to knock out three men twice your size.”
Dad chuckled. “There’s something about being accosted by a ghost to sober you up.”
“I guess.” I was so used to it, it didn’t even register anymore.
“I’m sorry about what Teddy said. He didn’t mean it. He’s not himself tonight. None of us were ourselves tonight.”
“I know.”
“I’m sorry about … everything.”
“I know.”
Dad stilled his hands, focusing on me. “Do you want to talk about it?”
“I don’t know what there is to talk about.”
“I think there’s a lot to talk about, Clove,” he said. “Do you want to start with why you’re so mad?”
“I’m not mad.”
“You’re mad,” he said, his voice gentle. “You have a right to be mad. We shouldn’t have left.”
“No, you shouldn’t have.”
“There are two sides to every story. You know that, right?”
“Of course there are,” I said. “It’s hard to listen to your side of the story when you’re trying to tell it while saying horrible things about another member of my family.”
Dad’s eyebrows flew up. “Who? Aunt Tillie?”
I nodded, plunging my hands deeper into the scorching water to search for errant silverware.
“You and your cousins say horrible things about her all the time,” Dad pointed out.
“That’s because we can,” I said. “She likes to mess with us. The truth is, we like to mess with her, too. She’s always been there for us.”
“I know.”
“You know, when we were in middle school, there was this girl named Gracie who was torturing Bay,” I said, my mind traveling back in time. “Bay can talk to ghosts. I don’t know if you know that, but she can. When we were kids, people thought she was the weird girl always talking to herself. It’s not like we could tell them the truth, so she just had to suck it up.
“Anyway, Gracie was … horrible to Bay,” I continued. “It didn’t matter how many times we beat her up – and we did beat her up – she just kept coming. It was like she took Bay’s very existence as some affront to nature.
“I think she knew, even then, that there was something different about Bay,” I said. “She knew there was something different about all of us. Bay never liked to cry in front of our mothers and Aunt Tillie. They didn’t like crying, and Bay always liked to pretend she was strong, even when she wasn’t. Do you know who she cried to?”
Dad pursed his lips. “Chief Terry.”
“He’s the one who sat and listened to Bay cry,” I said. “He listened to all of us, but Bay needed him more for some reason. He listened, and he hugged her, and he helped fix up a tree house so we had a place to hide and plot against Gracie.”
“We should have been there,” Dad said.
“Yes,” I said. “You wouldn’t have been able to fix the Gracie problem, though. Do you know who fixed it?”
“I have a feeling you’re about to tell me that Aunt Tillie fixed it.”
“She did,” I said. “She started … messing … with Gracie. Every time Gracie tortured Bay, something bad happened to Gracie. When she stuck gum in Bay’s hair, half of her hair fell out. When she told all the boys that Bay was a hermaphrodite, she grew a mustache.”
Dad snickered, even though the moment was serious.
“And it wasn’t just any mustache. It was like a full man’s mustache. Every time Gracie said something nasty to Bay, it grew. She’d wax it, and shave it, but it just kept growing – even in the middle of the day. Finally, she put two-and-two together and realized that it was karma paying her back and she finally stop terrorizing Bay.”
“Tillie has always been … difficult,” Dad said. “I have never once doubted that she loves you all, though. You should know, I didn’t leave because of you. I left because I loved you, and I loved your mother, but we just couldn’t all live together anymore. I thought I was making it easier for everyone, and I think Teddy and Jack felt the same way. The only ones we were making it easier on were ourselves. By the time we all realized that … it was too late.”
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