Clove shuddered. “Maybe it will be another scorpion.”
That was a terrifying thought. “I think you inherited that need to be right from her, Thistle,” I said.
“I’ll spend the night at Marcus’ place again,” Thistle warned. “Don’t push me.”
“If you do that, I’ll arrest Marcus,” Landon threatened.
“For what?”
“I believe he helps with a certain pot field,” Landon said, crossing his arms over his chest. “Noah would love that information. Do you want to risk that?”
Landon used his serious “cop” face, but Thistle didn’t fall for it. “That’s such a lame threat,” she said. “You wouldn’t squeal on Marcus or Aunt Tillie. Don’t bother bluffing when we all know you’re a good guy. Criminy. You were furious with Bay and you crumbled the second you realized she’d been crying.”
Landon shifted his eyes to me. “I’ll do it.”
“It is a lame threat,” I said. “It was a nice try, though.”
Landon scowled. “I hate it when Thistle is right.”
“We all do,” I said, patting his arm. “I’ll be available by phone if you need me this afternoon. We’re going to track down this Victor guy if we can. I wish we could take you with us, but you’re going to have to deal with the scourge that is Noah on your own and leave us to our own devices on this one.”
“And I thought you loved me,” Landon said, leaning over and pressing a quick kiss to my mouth. “Be good. Stay out of trouble. If something comes up and you’re not sure what to do, call me first.”
“I will.”
“Be careful, Bay,” Landon said. “We’re all in a weird spot here. We have to be smart instead of lucky for a change.”
“I’m both,” Thistle said.
“I wasn’t joking about helping them with the dirt, Thistle,” Landon said. “You’re on my list.”
I pursed my lips to keep from laughing at the Aunt Tillie-inspired threat. “And just think, we’ve only spent one night with Aunt Tillie,” I said. “What do you think we’ll be like in a week?”
“I’m guessing circus folk,” Landon said, giving me a brief hug. “Stay in touch. If I get anything, I’ll call you. If you get anything, keep it to yourself until we’re alone. I don’t want to risk Noah overhearing a conversation he shouldn’t.”
I kicked my heels together and saluted. “Yes, sir!”
“Cute,” Landon said. “Unfortunately, until we’re out from under Aunt Tillie’s watchful eye I can’t act on the cuteness. It’s a punishment for the ages. Apparently I’ve ticked off someone important in a previous life. Now I won’t be able to touch you without worrying she’s listening at the door.”
Huh. I hadn’t thought of that. Well, there went my week.
Seventeen
Finding Victor Donahue was easier than we thought. I’d like to say we put our noses to the grindstone and came up with the answer, but Chief Terry showed up thirty minutes after Landon left to provide us with the information. Apparently my intrepid boyfriend knew we would meander on our own, so he offered us help on the sly.
Because I didn’t have access to my car, Thistle served as chauffeur – and she didn’t stop complaining for the entire drive to neighboring Bellaire. Because she didn’t want to be left behind, Clove shut down Hypnotic and tagged along for the ride. We were a happy threesome again. Well, kind of.
“I think this is a complete and total waste of time,” Thistle said, turning off the rural road and onto the main drag of the small hamlet. “There’s no way Aunt Tillie and Patty are fighting about a guy neither one of them ended up with sixty years ago.”
“I agree,” I said, studying the street signs as we slowly passed. I wasn’t familiar with the town, only visiting on several occasions throughout the years, and I didn’t want to miss the turnoff to the retirement community where Victor now resided.
“If you agree, why are we taking the afternoon off work – on what should be a busy day, mind you – and chasing a ridiculous story?” Thistle pressed. “I’ve never met Edith, but I’ve heard her a few times while at your office. I don’t think she’s believable. She puts her own spin on things.”
While Aunt Tillie and I were the only ones in the family who could see ghosts, Clove and Thistle could eventually hear them if they remained in my presence along with the ghost for long enough. After it occurred a few times with Edith, Thistle got annoyed and refused to visit the newspaper office again. She said it was bad enough to hear a living person whine. A dead person sent her over the edge.
“Edith isn’t a bad person – er, ghost,” I said. “She’s just … stuck in a different time. She died when things were different, especially for women, and she can’t seem to find a way to climb out of that mindset.”
“She’s a kvetch,” Clove said, smiling. She rarely got to use the word and it was often applied to her when she complained, so she took advantage of the opportunity to bandy it about in conjunction with someone else.
“She’s definitely a kvetch,” Thistle agreed, leaning forward to study a street sign. “This is it, right?”
“Yeah,” I said, gesturing toward the big building off to the right. “I think that’s the retirement community.”
“It looks like an old church,” Clove said, wrinkling her nose. She seemed perfectly happy with the road trip. I think being away from us – and the excitement – was getting to her. “Why does look like a church?”
“I think it used to be part of an old church and they modified the building,” I supplied. “I seem to remember talk about the building being donated to a charity group that could afford to renovate it because it didn’t have to buy the property.”
“It’s neat,” Clove said, unfastening her seatbelt and leaning forward. “This is fun. We should go on adventures more often now that I’m not living with you guys. That can be our new … thing.”
I turned in my seat and fixed Clove with a serious look. It was time to nip this potential problem well before it budded. “Clove, you know we still love you and want to hang out, right?”
Clove balked. “Of course.”
“Well, you don’t act as if you know that,” I said. “We’re not going to forget you.”
“No one called me yesterday,” Clove said. “I don’t think you missed me at all.”
I wanted to shake her. “Clove, I spent my morning talking to senior citizens, my lunch hour fighting with Aunt Tillie and a ghost, my afternoon trying to stay out of jail and then worrying about Landon, and my evening having the worst dinner ever. I didn’t have time to miss you.”
“And we saw you in the morning,” Thistle added. “I know you’re worried we’re going to cut you out of things, but come on! I’m going to see you practically every day. So is Bay, because she visits at lunchtime when her schedule allows. You’ll still eat dinners at the inn a few times a week, too. When do you think we’ll forget about you?”
“You don’t understand,” Clove said. “I was so excited to move in with Sam, and it’s so peaceful out there, but … .” She broke off, frustrated as she searched for the right words.
“You’re worried about missing out on the excitement,” I finished for her. “I get it. The problem is, our brand of excitement is generally headache-inducing and heartburn-inciting. Do you wish you’d been taken into custody with Aunt Tillie and me?”
Clove chewed on her bottom lip. “No.”
“Do you wish you’d watched me melt down on the couch while Landon stormed out?”
“No.”
“I kind of wish you’d been there for that,” Thistle interjected. “I’m not good when it comes to emotional stuff. Bay was crying like a baby, and Landon was pacing like a madman. All the while, Aunt Tillie kept demanding iced tea and ice cream. It was a nightmare.”
I ignored her. “Things are changing in our world, Clove,” I said. “You’re the first one to move out, but do you really think Thistle and I will live together forever?”
“I don’t
know,” Clove said, refusing to give up. “Maybe you’ll find you enjoy living together more without me.”
“Yeah, that’s not going to happen,” Thistle said. “Marcus is making noise about us moving in together, and I think it’s only a matter of time before it becomes a reality. Once he has the stable finished and running how he wants it, I just know he’s going to ask me to move in. He wants to turn that barn into a cool house. It’s going to take a lot of work, but … I think it’s going to make a neat home and that’s where I see myself landing eventually.”
Wait a second … . “So Clove is going to live in a lighthouse and you’re going to live in a renovated barn? Where does that leave me?” I’m pretty sure I asked Landon the same question and he answered it for me, but I was still irked.
“You’re going to find a place with Landon,” Thistle answered. “He doesn’t like being away from you three nights a week as it is. This isn’t Three’s Company. We can’t live together forever.”
“We kind of talked about that the other night,” I admitted. “He says he doesn’t want me moving to Traverse City because he would rather settle here, but he’s not sure he can because of his job.”
“Maybe he’ll quit his job,” Thistle suggested.
“And do what? Run the kissing booth at every festival the town holds?”
“I could actually see him running a restaurant that only serves bacon,” Thistle said, grinning. “By the way, I made a gift for you to give him. Remind me when we get back to the store and I’ll give it to you.”
That was intriguing – and frightening. “What kind of gift? I’m not dressing up like a slice of bacon no matter what you’ve concocted.”
“You’ll like it,” Thistle said, laughing as she shifted her eyes to Clove. “I think you’re worried about things that don’t technically exist. We’re still family. We’re just expanding that family and growing up. What is it exactly you’re worried about?”
“I don’t feel grown up,” Clove said. “I feel … left out.”
“You’re not left out,” I argued, pushing open the door. I couldn’t continue this conversation when I had bigger things to worry about. “I’m sorry no one called you yesterday. It was an anomaly. Usually you would be in town and would’ve known about the arrest and my fight with Landon. You just happened to have the day off.”
“She’s right,” Thistle said, exiting the vehicle. “You’re making a big deal out of nothing. You’re going to be involved in all of our adventures.”
“Besides, you’re usually the one who complains about going on adventures,” I reminded her.
“Yes, but I enjoy complaining,” Clove said, joining me on the sidewalk in front of the retirement home. “That’s my thing.”
“That is kind of your thing,” I acknowledged.
“And it doesn’t bother us in the slightest,” Thistle lied.
“It will still be your thing, Clove,” I said. “We’re still going to go on adventures and get in trouble. That won’t change because you’ve moved. It’s in our genes.”
Clove offered me a heartfelt smile. “Just … don’t forget about me.”
“That’s not possible,” Thistle said, flashing a cheeky smile before turning her attention to the sprawling retirement community. “Okay, how are we going to do this?”
“I think you should let me take the lead,” I said. “We’ll pretend we’re old friends of the family and just want to catch up with Victor because we lost track of him.”
“That sounds boring,” Thistle countered. “Clove wants an adventure, so we should have fun. I think you should let me take the lead.”
“Why?”
“I have an idea.”
Oh, well, that had “disaster” written all over it. Still … why not? “Go for it.”
“HI!”
Thistle’s smile was so fake I cringed as the woman at the front desk lifted her eyes to study us.
“Hi.”
“We’re here to see Victor Donahue,” Thistle said. “We’re from the Hemlock Cove Historical Commission, and because he’s one of our oldest living representatives we have a fun stack of cash and prizes for him once he answers a few questions for our newsletter.”
Newsletter? Cash and prizes? She never gets to come up with the plan again.
“He’s in the solarium,” the receptionist said, returning her attention to the computer on the desk. It looked as if she was playing Candy Crush.
“And where is the solarium?” I asked, exchanging a quick look with Thistle. I had expected more of a challenge … or at least a few questions … before being directed toward Victor.
“That way.” The receptionist pointed toward a brightly lighted room to our left without raising her head.
“Don’t we have to sign in or anything?” Clove asked. “You don’t know anything about us. We could be kidnappers or something.”
“Are you kidnappers?” The woman’s tone was dull and lifeless.
“No.”
“Then have a nice day,” she said, frowning when she ran out of moves. “I hate you!” She was talking to the computer, but it was the most animated she’d been since our arrival.
I led Thistle and Clove to the solarium, keeping quiet until we were out of the receptionist’s hearing range. “You’re never allowed to make the plan again, Thistle. That was ridiculous.”
“We got in, didn’t we?”
“The only thing that would’ve kept us out is if we were carrying swords,” I replied. “And I’m not even sure that’s true because she would’ve had to look up to notice them.”
“We could be kidnappers,” Clove said. “I don’t like this.”
“Well, we’re not kidnappers,” Thistle said. “We have one senior citizen at home and she’s more than enough. We don’t want to add to the mayhem.”
“Let’s just find Victor and get out of here,” I said, narrowing my eyes at the stained glass windows. They depicted various biblical scenes, some of them rather gruesome. “This place gives me the creeps.”
“I think we have only one option,” Clove said, pointing toward a table at the end of the room. She was right. There was only one person present, and he sat staring into nothingness.
“He looks out of it,” I said, rolling my neck until it cracked. “Maybe he’s … you know.”
“Cuckoo for Cocoa Puffs?” Thistle asked.
I pinched her wrist. “Be nice.”
“Can I help you?” A male voice cut off Thistle’s screech – and probably revenge – and when I turned to find a dark-haired man in a white uniform standing next to a rolling mop bucket. “Are you Victor’s family?”
I licked my lips as I decided how to answer. “Um … .”
“We’re from Hemlock Cove, and Victor used to know our great-aunt,” Clove lied smoothly, taking me by surprise. She was usually the worst of us when it came to thinking on her feet. “She mentioned him the other day, and we thought it might be nice to see how he was. We were hoping to see if he seemed up for a visit before we brought her to see him.”
“We didn’t want to risk the trip if seeing Victor would upset her,” I added. “She’s … elderly.”
“And feeble,” Thistle interjected. “She can’t take stress.”
“Oh, that’s too bad” the janitor said. “I’m not sure it’s a good idea to bring your aunt here, but Victor loves visitors. He’ll enjoy seeing you.”
“Well, we’ll make sure not to tire him too much,” I said.
The janitor nodded and then turned his attention to the floor at the far side of the room as we turned back to Victor.
I approached the man with a wide smile. “Hi.”
The man, his hair completely white and his expression blank, shifted his eyes to me. He didn’t speak.
“I’m Bay Winchester,” I said. “I’m from Hemlock Cove.”
“He probably doesn’t know where that is,” Thistle said. “He left long before they changed the name.”
“We’re from Walker
ville,” I corrected. “Are you Victor?”
The man slowly nodded as he looked Thistle and me over. Finally he shifted his eyes to Clove, and his expression brightened as he offered her a warm smile.
“He seems to like Clove,” Thistle said. “You try talking to him.”
“What do I say?” Clove asked, nervously shuffling toward Victor. “Should I ask him about Patty?”
“I don’t know,” I replied. “Just … talk to him. That seems like the best option.”
“Hi, Victor,” Clove said, sitting in the chair next to him. “How are you feeling today?”
Victor’s smile never wavered. “Tillie.”
I stilled, surprised. “Did he just … ?”
“I’m not Tillie,” Clove said, her smile faltering. “I don’t look like Aunt Tillie, do I?”
“Yes,” Thistle and I replied in unison.
“That’s the meanest thing you’ve ever said to me,” Clove groused.
“Tillie,” Victor said, his hand shaking as he reached over and grabbed her wrist. “Tillie Winchester. You look exactly the same.”
I bit my lip to keep from laughing at the murderous look on Clove’s face.
“I’m not Tillie,” Clove said. “I’m Clove. Tillie is my great-aunt.”
“They look exactly alike, though,” Thistle said, grinning mischievously. “In fact, they’re practically the same person.”
“Shut up, Thistle,” Clove snapped, irritated. “We look nothing alike.”
“How did you stay the same when I got so old?” Victor asked. “It’s like … magic.”
“It is like magic,” Thistle said, wriggling her eyebrows. “It’s like witchcraft.”
“Yes,” Victor said, nodding. He was deathly serious. “Were all of those rumors about you true? Did you really have magic? I know the girls gossiped, but I always thought they were jealous.”
I had an idea. “Was Patty one of the jealous girls, Victor?” I asked, sitting in the empty chair on his other side so he wouldn’t have a problem hearing me. “Did she tell you things about Tillie?”
Charms & Witchdemeanors (Wicked Witches of the Midwest Book 8) Page 16