“I would say Mrs. Little’s body, but she’s over there.” Landon pointed and I followed the direction of his finger with my eyes, scowling when I saw the woman in question standing across the way. She was dressed in a fitted suit coat and high heels despite the chilly weather. “Why is she dressed like that?”
I fought the urge to roll my eyes – and say something nasty to boot – and sucked in a steadying breath. “She’s the star of the show today. There’s no way she’d miss this.”
In addition to being Hemlock Cove’s top porcelain unicorn statue seller, Margaret Little was also something of a Winchester family nemesis. Her dealings with my family went back to her youth – one she shared with Aunt Tillie – and continued through the decades since.
“What do you mean?” Landon seemed legitimately curious when he turned, perching on the end of the picnic table and gesturing for me to move closer. “It won’t be nearly as cold if we share body heat.”
I knew what he was doing – bucking for a free grope in the middle of the town square when everyone was around and the chances of us getting caught were greater – but I was cold and didn’t really care who figured out what we were doing. I slid between his legs and sighed as he rubbed his glove-covered hands over my arms. “That’s better.”
“It is,” Landon agreed, pressing his cold cheek against mine. “Tell me why this thing is Mrs. Little’s show.”
“Oh, right.” I crashed back to reality even though Landon’s proximity momentarily gave my mind a reason to wander. “The wishing well project has been in the works for three years. I wasn’t lying about the old well being a death trap. Someone lost their little dog down there when a kid made a wish on the Shih Tzu one year. It was an eyesore, too.
“At one time the well was attached to the system that supplied water to the entire town, but that was a long time ago. I saw the water that they pulled out of there right before they took the vote to upgrade,” I continued. “You couldn’t pay me to drink that stuff. The town council decided that the old well had to be filled in. Not just boarded up, but filled in because it could be a liability otherwise.
“So, we closed the old well about two years ago despite several residents putting up a fight because it was historic,” I explained. “Mrs. Little was one of those residents, and she had an absolute meltdown when she didn’t get her way. For the longest time she wasn’t part of the discussion when it came to the new well. We were going to go small and unobtrusive because the town is a tourist trap on its own, but Mrs. Little came barreling in toward the end of the process and said she would pay for it if she could have a say in the design.”
“Hmm.” Landon lazily moved his hands up and down my back. “I can’t help but be suspicious about why she suddenly wanted to sponsor the wishing well. Perhaps that’s my cynical side showing, but … she’s up to something. Hey, you don’t suppose whatever Aunt Tillie is up to has anything to do with what Margaret Little is planning, do you?”
Hmm. That was an interesting thought. “I hadn’t really considered it, but I’m not sure how the two could be linked. I know exactly what Mrs. Little is up to. I’ve seen the … surprise … with my own eyes.”
“There’s a surprise?” Landon leaned back far enough that I could see the gleam in his eyes. “It’s not bacon, is it?”
“The bacon stuff is getting a little old.”
“Bacon never gets old, baby, but I’ll give it a rest for the day because you’re cranky.” Landon was all smooth charm and wide smiles. “If I didn’t know better I’d think you didn’t sleep well last night.”
“I slept fine. It was the dreams that made it so it wasn’t a restful sleep.”
Landon stilled, his eyes darkening. “Did you have nightmares? Why didn’t you wake me?”
“I didn’t have nightmares,” I replied, his tone grating on my frozen nerves. “I had dreams about hundreds of flying people attacking Aunt Tillie’s field and her using a squirt gun full of hemp water to bring them down. In fact, I had several dreams about people flying over that field.”
Landon barked out a laugh, his shoulders shaking as the visual washed over him. “Okay, that’s not funny, but … it’s freaking funny.”
“But it doesn’t count as a nightmare.”
“No, it doesn’t, but you still should’ve woken me up.” Landon tucked a strand of flyaway blond hair beneath my knit cap. “You could’ve woken me up to console you even if it wasn’t a full-blown nightmare.”
“I couldn’t wake you up to show you the guy flying over the field,” I reminded him. “How could I wake you up for a non-nightmare?”
“I see your point.” Despite his jovial attitude, I could tell Landon wasn’t happy about me bringing up the flying figure with so many people around. “You might not want to mention that you saw someone flying over your property when the wrong people might overhear you. They’re bound to think you’re crazy or something.”
All traces of my good mood fled. “Does that worry you? What people think about me, I mean.”
Landon could sense a trap with the best of them. “Don’t go there,” he warned, keeping his voice low and refusing to release me even when I moved to slip out of his embrace. “We’re not turning this into a fight. I was teasing you.”
“It’s not funny, though,” I pressed. “I saw it. I’m not making it up.”
“Sweetie, I know you’re not making it up.” Landon looked pained. “I honestly think you fell asleep even though you didn’t realize it was happening. You were dreaming about being awake and it simply got away from you.”
“That’s not what happened.”
Landon heaved out a frustrated sigh as he tilted his head to the side. “Okay, I’m going to approach this as I would any other flying human being story that landed on my desk. What exactly did you see?”
“I saw something moving on the other side of the window, so I got out of bed to see what it was,” I answered, refusing to back down. “I thought it was a bush … or maybe a piece of fabric that got caught on one of the trees. It was a person flying in the air over the pot field.”
“Shh!” Landon looked like an epileptic chicken when he jerked his head from side to side to make sure no one was listening. “Don’t say the P-word.”
“Pork?”
“Don’t push me, Bay. I’m trying to help.”
“I know you are, but you’re not helping, so can we just let it go? I believe I was telling you about the wishing well and why it’s going to be Mrs. Little’s show today. Let’s go back to that.”
“No, we’re not going back to that just yet,” Landon fired back. “I want to hear that information, but we’re not quite there yet. I want to know what you saw through the window last night. You’re clearly not going to let me rest until we figure it out.”
He had a point. “I saw a man flying over the field,” I said. “I didn’t imagine it. He was there … circling.”
“Circling the field?”
I nodded.
“Are you sure it wasn’t a bird?”
“It was too big to be a bird.” My patience quickly eroded as I slapped my hands on Landon’s thighs to emphasize my point. “I know the difference between a man and a bird.”
“Really? Which is Big Bird?”
I didn’t want to laugh. I was angry, I told myself. He didn’t believe me and was getting off on torturing me. I couldn’t help myself. I belted out a hearty chuckle as I buried my face in the hollow between his neck and shoulder. “I swear I saw it.”
“I know you did.” Landon pressed me as close to his chest as he could manage. “Can Aunt Tillie fly? I know you said it was a man, but half her clothing comes from the Army surplus store, so it’s entirely possible it was her.”
That was a rational question. I searched my memory for a definitive answer. “It wasn’t Aunt Tillie. The body was too tall.”
“Okay, well, was it a ghost?” Landon kept his voice low. He was well aware of my witchy ability – I can see and talk to ghosts
– but he guarded my secret to the best of his ability.
“Huh.” I hadn’t considered that possibility. “I don’t think so, but … .”
“You can’t rule it out,” Landon finished.
I nodded. “I honestly don’t see how a ghost could cause a shadow like that.”
“Maybe you didn’t really see a shadow,” Landon suggested. “Maybe you heard the ghost in your head … or sensed it was close … and you went to the window because something inside of you urged you to do it.”
It was an intriguing suggestion. “I don’t think it was a ghost, Landon.”
“The only other option was that a man really was flying over the property in the middle of November. How likely do you think that scenario is?”
“I don’t know.” I felt lost, bitter, maybe a little disappointed in myself. The realization caused me to shake my head and take a step back. “It doesn’t matter. You’re right. I probably fell asleep and imagined it.”
Landon pursed his lips as he regarded me. “Bay, you don’t usually freak out about nothing. You don’t generally imagine things that aren’t there. On the flip side, you did drink a lot last night.”
He wasn’t wrong, yet I couldn’t help but be a little defensive. “So did you.”
“Yeah, and I passed out like a rock.” Landon slid his fingers through my belt loops and tugged me back to the spot I had occupied a few moments before. “Bay, if someone really was flying around your property last night, how is that even possible?”
“I don’t know. Maybe someone got bit by a radioactive spider. Maybe that’s what Aunt Tillie had in the bag.”
Landon snorted as he shook his head, genuinely amused. “I love you so much it hurts sometimes.” He pressed a soft kiss to my lips. “Spiderman doesn’t fly, though. He swings from web to web. And it only works in cities with tall skyscrapers so it gives the illusion of flying.”
“Ugh. You’re a comic book geek. How did I not know this? I’m mortified.”
Landon’s smile slipped. “You’re a Trekkie. I wouldn’t talk.”
“I am not a Trekkie.”
“Can you do the Vulcan salute?”
Oh, I’m not answering that. “So, back to Mrs. Little. She bought a huge plaque touting herself as the owner of the wishing well and advertising her store. Can you believe that?”
“Yes, it’s totally tacky,” Landon said, wrinkling his nose. “I plan to be appropriately catty when they unveil it. I’ll even trade whispered insults with you while you’re taking notes. Go back to the Vulcan salute thing, though. Can you do that with your fingers?”
I silently met his gaze for what felt like forever. “I might be able to do that.”
“Let me see.”
I narrowed my eyes. “You’re going to make fun of me.”
“Let me see,” Landon prodded, refusing to back down. “I’ll run and get the next round of hot chocolate if you do.”
I blew out a weary sigh, but lifted my hands, pressing the middle digit of each hand to the forefinger and the ring finger to the pinky, creating two vees.
“You can do it with both hands?” Landon was delighted. “I am so turned on right now.”
“I thought you were appalled when you thought I was a Trekkie,” I challenged.
“That was before I pictured you in one of those role-playing outfits,” Landon replied. “I’m totally ordering one of them, by the way. I’m going to make you serve as my communications expert.”
“And then what?”
Landon’s lips curved. “Then we’ll boldly go where … .” Landon didn’t get a chance to finish his filthy double entendre because Mrs. Little picked that moment to swoop in and interrupt us.
“Bay, we really need to get going,” she said. “It’s cold out and I want to make sure my hair looks good for the photographs. If snow starts falling it’ll melt on my hair and then freeze. Nobody wants that.”
I exhaled heavily as I regained my faculties and patted Landon’s shoulder as he scowled in Mrs. Little’s direction. “I’m ready when you are.”
“Let’s do it now.”
“Sure. I can’t wait. I’ve been looking forward to this all day.” I flashed Landon a resigned smile before gathering my notebook from the picnic table. Landon grabbed my wrist before I could wander too far away.
“If I had a phaser this is where I would totally stun her,” he offered, causing me to grin.
“I could always try the Vulcan neck pinch on her.”
“Oh, that’s my little geek.” He playfully swatted my rear end. “Hurry this along, because I have some positively marvelous ideas for reenacting The Trouble With Tribbles. By the way, you’re the tribble.”
And he says I’m the geek.
I wish … I wish … I wish … um, I don’t know what to wish for. Everything that pops in my head is mean, and I promised I would never grow up to be you, so I have no idea what to do with this new development.
– Clove, 16, explaining to Aunt Tillie why she can’t think of anything to wish for
Five
Mrs. Little was born to be the center of attention. She took her spot in front of the wishing well, launched into a speech even I couldn’t follow despite the fact that I was there to do just that, and then yanked the plastic tarp off the newly constructed downtown landmark with a flourish that would’ve made Las Vegas performers jealous.
The crowd gathered to see the unveiling was small, so only a few people supplied the appropriate gasps – and I was fairly certain Landon was one of those individuals and he was only making noise because he burned his tongue on his hot chocolate. By the time Mrs. Little wrapped things up, which was fifteen minutes after a normal person would’ve stopped talking, the crowd was seriously losing interest.
I took advantage of the situation and grabbed two women in rapid succession to gather quotes, tamping down my irritation when they both admitted they followed the smell of doughnuts, and then found Landon sitting exactly where I left him.
“I’m done … kind of.”
“What’s ‘kind of’ mean?” Landon grabbed his tongue with his fingers and tried to stare down his nose and get a gander at it. “I burned my tongue, by the way. It hurts.”
I pressed my lips together to keep from laughing. “I’ll kiss it and make it better later.”
“I was thinking ice cream.”
“You’re going to fall into a sugar coma if you’re not careful,” I warned. “You’ve had so much food this morning that I’m going to have to let out your pants before you leave for work Monday.”
“You can sew?” Landon was understandably dubious. I wasn’t known for my homemaking skills.
“I can online shop.”
Landon snorted. “Duly noted. I was hoping to work off the extra calories when we get home and into our pajamas.”
“Well, I don’t see why we can’t leave now,” I offered. “The article will be dull, but it will be the most boring thing in next week’s edition anyway, so I’m not overly broken up about it.”
Landon ceased messing with his tongue and fixed me with a serious expression. “If you’re going to change your mind and insist we come back down here in an hour I’m going to be very upset.”
“I won’t.” I was almost positive that was true.
Landon didn’t look convinced. “What did you want that you didn’t get?”
“Color quotes.”
“I saw you questioning two women as soon as Mrs. Little stopped talking – and that was freaking painful, honey, so you’ll have to rub the crap out of me later to make up for it. Didn’t they give you color quotes?”
“They came for the free hot chocolate.”
Landon snorted. “I can’t blame them. The hot chocolate is downright tasty.”
“Yes, you’re practically buzzing from all of the sugar. How many doughnuts did you eat?”
“One. I’m not a glutton.”
I arched a challenging eyebrow. “Really?”
“Fine. Three. They
had sprinkles, though. You know how I feel about sprinkles.”
“You love them almost as much as bacon,” I filled in. “You’ve told me on numerous occasions.”
“I love you more than both of them.”
He was feeling cute and frisky, which I didn’t want to dissuade. “Duly noted.”
“That’s why I don’t want you to leave until you have your quotes,” Landon announced, hopping off the table. “I want you to get everything you need so we don’t have to worry about leaving the guesthouse. I’m not joking about having a pajama day. I’m willing to forego bacon at the inn tomorrow morning to do it.”
“Oh, you’re definitely serious.” I rested my gloved hand on top of his. “Okay. I just need two quotes. I’m chilled to the bone thanks to the world’s longest speech, but you’re right. If I get the quotes now we can spend the rest of the day getting warm.”
“Yes. I’m thinking a bath, a big fire and more hot chocolate.”
“You’re having tea,” I corrected. “No sugar or honey, either. You can have lemon and that’s it.”
“You’re being awfully bossy.” Landon’s eyes lit with playfulness. “I kind of like it.”
“That doesn’t mean you’re getting more sugar.”
“I’m fine with that.” Landon gave me a soft shove as he moved behind me. “Get your quotes and let’s get out of here. I’m not joking about this being a lame festival. They don’t have a kissing booth or a bonfire. I’m so disappointed. The town let me down.”
“You’re so dramatic.”
“I learned it from the Winchesters, so what do you expect?” Landon happily followed me toward a group of teenagers. Even though I didn’t want to drag this out, I knew he was right. If I didn’t get the quotes it would bug me.
“That’s Nelson Lyons over there.” I pointed toward the slim boy standing in the middle of five bubbling females. “He’ll give me a quote. I think he has a crush on me.”
Make A Witch Page 4