Witch Me Luck (Wicked Witches of the Midwest Book 6)

by Amanda M. Lee

“I’m the chauffeur,” Landon replied. “Come over here.”

  Once they stepped away, I shot my father a rueful smile. “I’m sorry we invaded you tonight.”

  “Why did he have to come?”

  “Who?”

  “Terry.”

  I frowned. “Lila said she called him when she saw us lurking outside,” I explained. “She was hoping we would get arrested. She wants Landon.”

  “Oh, please,” Dad said. “Landon would never fall for the likes of her. Don’t worry about that. He’s utterly devoted to you.”

  Finally the truth spell was making me feel better. “Do you really think so?”

  “Unfortunately, yes,” Dad said. “I have a feeling he’s going to be the father of my grandchildren.”

  That was a sobering thought. “I don’t think you have to worry about that right now,” I said. “We’re nowhere near that point.”

  “Good,” Dad said. “I’m not ready to be a grandfather. Although, to be honest, the idea of your mother becoming a grandmother makes me kind of happy.”

  “Why?”

  “I want the kid to call her ‘Granny.’ Can you promise me that?”

  I smiled, despite myself. “I can try.”

  I watched Dad as he stared at Landon and Chief Terry for a moment. “Why do you have such a problem with Chief Terry?” I asked.

  “I don’t like that you’re so close with him.”

  “Why?”

  “You treat him more like a father than me.”

  “In some ways he was more of a father than you,” I said. “That doesn’t mean you’re not my father.”

  “You don’t have to say that,” Dad said. “I know I was a terrible father.”

  I felt helpless. “You were the best father you could be. You came back. That counts.”

  “He was there for you when you needed someone.”

  “He was.” There was no way I would ever say anything bad about Chief Terry. “He was always there for me. That doesn’t mean you’re in competition with him.”

  “Isn’t your mother involved with him?”

  I pursed my lips. “My mother and aunts compete for his affection.”

  “Do you think one of them will win?”

  “I think he’s afraid to let one of them win,” I said. “If he does, the other two will get hurt. Besides, I’m not sure any of them really want to win. They like competing with each other more than anything else.”

  “Some things never changed,” Dad said, smiling sadly. “Still, I want your mother to be happy. She’s a good woman. She drove me crazy for ten years, but she’s a very good woman.”

  “She is. She’s also a rampant pain in the ass.”

  Dad smirked. “She’s definitely a pain in the ass.”

  Landon and Chief Terry approached us warily.

  “Is everything okay?” I asked.

  Landon’s face was a mask of worry as he regarded me. “I questioned everyone here. I questioned your father and uncles, too, and if you’re going to have a fit about that wait until we get back to the guesthouse.”

  “I expected you to question them,” I said.

  “Question us about what?” Dad asked. “The robbery? Did you really think one of us did it?”

  Landon ignored the question. “Everyone here denies being involved.”

  “But … how is that possible?”

  “I don’t know. Maybe the spell didn’t work.”

  “Oh, it worked.”

  “What spell?” Dad asked, mortified.

  “It’s not important,” I said. “It will be over soon.”

  “It’s still going on?” Now Dad looked angry. “You cast a spell on us?”

  “Don’t even get all uppity with her,” Aunt Tillie said, pushing past me and glaring up at my father. “I cast the spell. Blame me.”

  “She came with you.”

  I felt caught. “Dad … I … .” What could I say?

  “I think you should all be going,” Dad said.

  “Dad, I’m sorry.”

  His face was immovable. “Have a nice night.”

  Twenty-One

  I woke up the next morning with a killer headache and Landon breathing down my neck. He was practically on top of me, snoring like a freight train.

  I tried to wriggle out from under him, exasperated, but he snagged me around the waist and held me still. “Good morning.”

  “You’re awake? Why were you snoring?”

  “I was trying to wake you up without being a jerk,” Landon said.

  “So you thought snoring in my ear was the best way to go?”

  “You’re crabby this morning,” Landon said, rolling away slightly but not loosening his grip on me. “Do you want to talk about what happened last night?”

  “What do you want me to say? Do you want to talk about how Lila is even worse than I thought?”

  “Not particularly.”

  “Do you want to talk about how my father essentially kicked us out of his inn because he thinks we betrayed him?”

  “That’s what I was talking about.” Landon stretched languidly and then ran a hand through his sleep-tousled hair. “You were pretty quiet after we left.”

  “What do you want me to say?” I was angry. Sure, most of my ire was directed at me, but I was furious with Landon, too.

  “Why are you angry with me?” Landon asked, his eyes wide. “What did I do?”

  “You let us get completely out of control,” I said.

  Landon rolled his eyes. “I let you? When have I ever let you do anything? I think you’re really angry with yourself and you’re taking it out on me.”

  I threw the covers back dramatically. “That just shows how little you know.” I started to move out of the bed, but Landon grabbed my arm.

  “You’re not getting out of this bed yet,” he said. “I want to talk about this.”

  “What is there to say?” I asked, my voice bordering on shrill. “I managed to make my relationship with my father even worse than it already was.”

  “I think we all had a hand in that,” Landon said. “Why don’t you call him and make up? The spell is over now, right?”

  “Yes.”

  “So call him,” Landon prodded.

  “I can’t,” I said. “I don’t know how to interact with him.”

  “Why not?”

  “I’m afraid of saying the wrong thing.” I studied my fingernail beds so I wouldn’t have to look him in the eye.

  “You’re afraid that if you tell him how you really feel he’s going to take off again,” Landon said. “Is that it?”

  “I … .”

  “Bay, I think that’s a reasonable fear,” Landon said. “You were young when your father left. You saw him only a couple of times a year after that. You probably blamed yourself.

  “I’m not saying you were to blame, mind you,” he continued. “Kids always blame themselves – and you have a martyr complex as it is.”

  “I do not have a martyr complex,” I grumbled.

  “You do,” Landon said. “You can’t go through life afraid to tell your father how you really feel. He deserves the chance to hear some honesty. If you want to unload on him, unload on him.”

  “And if he leaves again?”

  “Then he was never worth your time,” Landon said. “As someone who … walked away for a little while … you should know that being away from you is a miserable experience. I think he knows that. He’s not going to run if you yell … and you’ve been bottling this up for so long you’re ready to explode.”

  I scrunched my nose up as I regarded him. “Were you really miserable when you were away from me?”

  Landon grinned. “Why did I know that was the thing you would focus on?”

  “Because I’m so transparent.”

  Landon kissed the tip of my nose. “I was definitely miserable.”

  “Did you cry?”

  “No.”

  “Did you want to?”

  “Don’t push your l
uck, Bay.”

  “WHAT’S going on?”

  Thistle arose in the middle of the living room, hands on hips. Marcus sat on the couch, a dumbfounded look on his face as Landon and I exited the bedroom.

  “Clove moved out.”

  “Yeah, right. What’s really going on?”

  “She really moved out,” Thistle said. She pointed to a sheet of paper on the coffee table. “She packed her clothes and left.”

  I narrowed my eyes and snatched the sheet of paper from the table. It was definitely a goodbye note. She must have been in a hurry – or drunk – because half of the words were misspelled. “But … where would she go?”

  “Maybe she’s at the Dandridge,” Marcus suggested.

  “Sam broke up with her. Keep up.” Thistle was beside herself.

  “Hey! Don’t take your bad morning out on me,” Marcus said. “I’m trying to help.”

  “I’m sorry,” Thistle said. “I just … I can’t believe she did this.” She turned on me. “This is your fault.”

  “What?”

  “You shouldn’t have called Landon when you found that mask.”

  “You said I did the right thing,” I said. “Now this is my fault?”

  “You broke her heart.”

  “I’m going to break your face if you don’t shut up,” I snapped.

  “Everyone calm down,” Landon instructed. He took the note from me and scanned it. “This reads like an eight-year-old wrote it. Are you sure it’s her handwriting?”

  “Who else would leave a note calling us the ‘worst cousins ever?’”

  “A really dramatic middle-schooler,” Landon replied, nonplussed.

  “You’re on my list,” Thistle said, pointing at him.

  “Right back at you,” Landon said. “Let’s look at this logically, shall we? Where could she go? We know she’s not out at the Dandridge. All the inns in the area are booked because of the festival. She has nowhere to go. She probably slept in her car.”

  “Or she’s just up at the inn,” Marcus muttered, running his hand through his hair.

  We all stilled. How did the one man in the room without any investigative experience come up with the only plausible answer? We were all off our game.

  “Everyone get showered and dressed,” Landon said. “We’ll go up to the inn together. You two can apologize to Clove, and everything will be back to normal in five minutes flat.”

  “That’s right,” Marcus said. “Just be nice to her. I know you can do this if you set your minds to it.”

  Thistle made a face. “I’m always nice to her.”

  Landon and Marcus exchanged dubious looks.

  Thistle turned to me for support. “Do you want to chime in here?”

  “Just be nice,” I said.

  “This is still your fault,” Thistle said.

  “It’s no one’s fault,” Landon said. “Stop screeching at each other. You’re giving me a headache.”

  “You’re giving me a headache,” Thistle shot back.

  “You’re both giving me a headache,” I said.

  “Get in the shower, Bay,” Landon said. “You’re on my list.”

  “OKAY, everyone, try to remain calm and be nice,” Marcus said, his hand hovering over the backdoor handle. “If we all stand together, we can do this. We’re a team.”

  “Who are you talking to?” Thistle asked.

  “You.”

  “I know what I’m doing,” Thistle said. “You just need to calm down.”

  Marcus didn’t look convinced. “You look as if you’re going to make things worse.” He turned to Landon. “Right?”

  “Oh, no, you’re on your own,” Landon said. “This is one fight I don’t want to referee.”

  “You’re saying that because you and Bay made up in the shower before we came here,” Thistle said.

  “How did you know that?” I asked.

  “You just told me,” Thistle said. “Plus, Landon has a lazy grin right after you guys … you know. He’s had it for the past five minutes.”

  I studied him for a moment. He did look a little self-satisfied. “I think he’s handsome,” I said finally.

  Landon smiled down at me and gave me a quick kiss.

  “I’m going to be sick,” Thistle griped.

  Marcus opened the door, and when Thistle began to move past him he stopped her with a hand on her arm. “Why don’t you ever say nice things like that to me?”

  “Because you already know you’re handsome.”

  “Do you think I’m better looking than Landon?” Marcus asked.

  “Of course.”

  “Hey! No one is better looking than me,” Landon said.

  We filed into the back of the inn, pulling up short when we found Clove staring at us from the entry that led into the kitchen. Her expression was murderous. “What are you doing here?”

  “Having breakfast,” Thistle said.

  “And we came to find you,” I added. “We were worried.”

  “You realize I heard everything you said while you were arguing by the back door, right?” Clove’s face was pale, and dark shadows rimmed her eyes. “You didn’t sound worried. You sounded like you all had a great morning together … without me.”

  Of course she’d been listening. If I didn’t have bad luck, I would have no luck at all these days. “Why are you down here?”

  “Because I can’t trust the two of you,” Clove said.

  “What did I do?” Thistle asked. “Bay’s the one who betrayed you when she turned Sam into Landon. She’s dead to you, but I’m still alive.”

  I scorched her with a look.

  “Every witch for herself,” Thistle shrugged.

  “Why is it that my life is coming to an end and yet it’s business as usual for the two of you?” Clove asked.

  “Let’s not get dramatic,” I said. “You’re going through a rough patch, but your life isn’t coming to an end.”

  “Thanks to you,” Clove said.

  “Stop fighting right now,” Aunt Tillie said, flouncing out of the hallway and fixing us with a look of disappointment. “You’re acting like children.”

  It was an interesting insult coming from a diminutive elderly woman wearing combat boots and pink camouflage pants.

  “Where did you get those pants?” Thistle asked. “And are those … sparkles … on the knees?”

  “I ordered them on line, and they’re not sparkles. They’re … glitter flecks. They’re rated four and a half stars on Amazon. All the kids are wearing them.”

  “Well, good,” I said. “This won’t end poorly for me.”

  “Oh, suck it up,” Aunt Tillie said. “They’re pants. What’s the big deal?”

  “Has Mom seen those yet?”

  “Of course not,” Aunt Tillie said. “I was saving them for a special occasion.”

  “Why did you decide to wear them when the inn is full of people?” I asked.

  “I plan my offensives against your mothers very carefully,” Aunt Tillie said. “This happens to be a perfect time to irritate them.”

  “Why?”

  “Because they’re going to give me anything I want to get me to change my clothes.”

  “What do you want?”

  “I can’t tell you in front of … him.” She inclined her head in Landon’s direction.

  “Why?” I asked.

  “Because he’s the fuzz, and he’ll turn me in.”

  Now it was Landon’s turn to be suspicious. “What are you up to?”

  “What makes you think I’m up to something?”

  “You just said you couldn’t tell them what you were up to because I was here. I want to know what you’re doing.”

  “I’m old,” Aunt Tillie said. “You can’t expect me to remember everything I say. My mind is like Swiss cheese.”

  Landon narrowed his eyes. “Tell me what you’re up to.”

  “I’m not up to anything. If I didn’t know any better, I would think you’re paranoid.” Aunt Tilli
e knows exactly how to get under Landon’s skin. If it were an Olympic sport, she’d claim the gold, silver and bronze medals.

  “I’m not paranoid,” Landon said. “You’re always up to something.”

  “Maybe you always think I’m up to something because you’re paranoid,” Aunt Tillie countered. “Have you been smoking the wacky tobacky? You know that’s illegal, right?”

  Since Aunt Tillie had her own pot field, and she magically cloaked it so Landon couldn’t find it and burn her crop, that was a pointed jab.

  “I’m going to find out what you’re up to,” Landon warned. “You’re not getting ahead of me on this one. I won’t let you.”

  “You do what you have to,” Aunt Tillie said. She grabbed her gardening hat from the nearby desk and plopped it on her head. She’d glued fake flowers – and what appeared to be a rubber spider – to it since I’d last seen it.

  “What’s with the hat?” I asked, confused.

  “It matches the pants.”

  It really didn’t.

  “Are we done here?” Aunt Tillie asked.

  “We’re just starting,” Landon said.

  “You’re cute,” Aunt Tillie said. “You’re like a puppy with a bone. Or, even better, a kitten that sees its reflection in a mirror and gets paranoid enough to believe it’s another cat.”

  Landon scowled. “I’m going to find out what you’re doing.”

  “I should hope so,” Aunt Tillie said, shuffling through the room. “You’re a professional investigator, after all. There’s no way a little old lady like me could outsmart you. None at all.”

  When she turned to push through the swinging door, I saw what I had missed on first inspection of the garish pants. There was a message written across the rear end. It was one word, but it was enough to induce simultaneous aneurisms when my mother and aunts saw it.

  “Hurry up,” Aunt Tillie said. “If you’re late for breakfast, you’re going to get in trouble.”

  Once she was gone, Thistle turned to me. “She had writing on her butt. You saw that, right?”

  “I saw it.”

  “What did it say?” Marcus asked. “I was afraid to look for too long. She’s still convinced I tried to feel her up when we shared that bed together at the Dragonfly. I didn’t want to give her more ammunition.”

  “It said ‘juicy,’” Landon said, wearily.

  Thistle, Clove and I were already moving toward the kitchen door.