“What is that supposed to mean?” I asked, genuinely curious.
“It means that things are how they’re supposed to be and I won’t stand for any changes,” Mrs. Little said, tugging on her suit coat to smooth it. “I’m in control of the situation. I donated the wishing well. I won’t allow you to mess with it.”
“Well, I guess we’ll just have to see about that, won’t we?” Aunt Tillie was always up for a challenge. The fact that Mrs. Little was issuing it today was merely a bonus.
“Don’t push me,” Mrs. Little warned. “You’ll lose.”
“I don’t lose.”
“You will today.”
“Do you want to place a wager?”
Mrs. Little chewed on her bottom lip as she stared. I expected her to issue some vague threat and flounce out the door. Instead she turned on her heel and bolted – as if some wildebeest chased her with the sole purpose of eating her for lunch – and disappeared down the street.
“What the … ?” Landon leaned forward, baffled. “Is she running?”
“I didn’t know she could,” Clove admitted.
“I did.” Aunt Tillie was grim. “She’s not getting away with it this time, though. Get her!”
Make a wish, Bay. Think really hard about what you want and then drop your penny in the well. It will come true … eventually. You might not realize it right away, but everything that happens today will lead to that wish coming true tomorrow. That includes everything that’s difficult … everything that’s easy … and everything that feels as if your heart is being ripped out of your chest. Some wishes come true right away. Others take time to percolate. Your wish will come true … as long as you don’t wish to be a princess or anything. Not only is that a lame wish, it’s also entirely impractical in this country. You don’t need to be the princess. You simply need to be the thing that princesses fear.
– Aunt Tillie to nine-year-old Bay as they stood next to a wishing well
Twenty
“Get her?”
Landon didn’t so much as move from the couch as he leveled his gaze on Aunt Tillie.
“You heard me.” Aunt Tillie gestured toward the door. “Get her.”
“Why?”
Aunt Tillie made an exaggerated “well, duh” expression. “Because she’s going to do something.”
“What is she going to do?” Landon asked, remaining patient. “She’s not a witch, right? She can’t cast a spell to stop your spell. Heck, she doesn’t even know what you’re concocting over there.”
“That’s neither here nor there,” Aunt Tillie sniffed. “She’s evil.”
“So are you.” Landon turned his attention back to me. “How about we pack up as soon as we’re done here and I’ll take you out for a nice lunch in Traverse City before we start our pajama day at my place?”
“That sounds really good. Just think, though, soon you won’t have a ‘my place.’ You’ll have ‘our place.’”
Landon grinned. “That’s the best thing I’ve heard in days. The fact that you’re coming with me for the week and I don’t have to worry about getting my Bay fix over the phone is a close second.”
“You two make me want to puke,” Aunt Tillie hissed. “Why don’t you just jump each other in public? It would be quicker.”
“Because that’s against the law,” Landon replied dryly. “We all know I’m a rule follower.”
“Yes, that’s why you keep the fact that we’re witches and had a kid flying over the pot field for days to yourself,” Thistle said, sarcasm overflowing.
“I can’t even hear you.” Landon said, resting his cheek against my shoulder. “I’m already in Traverse City.”
“Oh, whatever.” Aunt Tillie turned back to the cauldron. “It needs to simmer for twenty minutes and then it needs to be bottled. Clove, that’s your job.”
Clove leaned over the cauldron and wrinkled her nose. “Why is it my job? It smells.”
“So did you when you were younger, and I still had to babysit you.”
Thistle snorted. “This family should get a group rate on a shrink.”
“I’ve heard worse ideas,” Landon said. “Can we hurry this along? I have the rest of my day planned and I want to get to the good stuff.”
I WASN’T surprised to find Mrs. Little waiting for us by the wishing well. I was surprised to find her fan club holding hands and circling the well, as if to cut us off from our target. The scene was almost laughable. If I weren’t so cold and tired I would’ve broken out in hearty guffaws.
“Oh, look, it’s the Joy Luck Club,” Thistle intoned.
Yup. That did it. I burst out laughing, my shoulders shaking so hard I had to rest my palms on my thighs to catch my breath.
“Are you okay?” Landon asked, his eyes flashing. He looked as amused as I felt. “You’re not going to fall over or anything, are you?”
I shook my head. “I just … this is ridiculous. Even for us, I mean. The entire thing is absolutely ridiculous.”
“It will be over soon.”
“You can’t touch my well,” Mrs. Little announced, puffing out her chest. “This is my well. I bought it. I paid for it. It’s mine. If you touch it, you’re trespassing.”
“It’s on public property,” I reminded her, recovering enough to straighten. “You donated the materials for the well, but it was erected on public property. It’s meant as an attraction for the public and something for tourists to admire.”
“Yeah, and we’re part of the public,” Clove added. “By the way, Aunt Tillie, I’m not a kvetch or a crier. I just want you to know that.”
“Yes, I wouldn’t have made it throughout the day without that little tidbit,” Aunt Tillie muttered. “I just … this is ridiculous. Move away from the well, Margaret. We have a wish to make.”
“No!” Mrs. Little spread out her arms, as if she was about to take a bullet to protect her new friends. She seemed desperate enough to sell that story. “This is my well. You can’t touch it.”
“We can touch it,” Landon corrected, reaching into his pocket and retrieving his badge. “This is part of an open investigation. If you try to bar us from approaching I’ll arrest you for inserting yourself into a federal investigation. That can get you any number of years in the state penitentiary.”
The words struck home with a few of the women, wild eyes locking with one another. The idea of backing up their new queen bee was one thing. The notion of going to jail – and maybe for an extended amount of time – was something else entirely.
“You can’t bully us,” Mrs. Little gritted out. “I won’t let it happen. I refuse to let you do it.”
“I’m not bullying you,” Landon remained calm on the surface even though I could sense his patience fraying. “I’m informing you that we need to gain access to the well. You have no right to stop us. If you try – if you put one hand on any of these women when they approach – I will arrest you.”
“Oh, you can try.” I had to hand it to Mrs. Little. She remained haughty right until the end. The end came quickly when the women released their grip on one another and took long strides away from the well, leaving Mrs. Little the only remaining barrier.
“I’m sorry, Margaret, but I can’t be a part of this,” Cassidy Marasco said, her voice shaking. “I can’t go to jail. My husband will pitch a fit … and I’m not sure he’ll bail me out.”
“I know my husband won’t bail me out,” Val Winfield supplied. “He would use the time away from me as a vacation. He’s a real dickweed sometimes.”
Landon’s mouth swished as he tried to hide his smile. “Ladies, if you would head back to your vehicles – or wherever it is that you wish to go that is separate from this location – I’ll be able to refrain from issuing a citation.”
“He can’t ticket you,” Mrs. Little hissed as her “friends” retreated. “He’s an FBI agent. They don’t even carry around those little notepads to write tickets with.”
“Hey, that sounds like a fun idea,” I suggested.
“We should get you one of those pads so you can ticket me this week. Then I’ll have to pay my fines and … .”
“Shut up, perverts,” Aunt Tillie barked, tightening her grip on the potion bottle in her hand as she advanced on the well. “Make plans for whatever filthy thing you’re going to do on your own time.”
Landon ran his tongue over his teeth as he regarded Aunt Tillie a moment and then shifted his eyes to me. “I think I can find an old ticket book. I’m really liking the way your mind is working today.”
I beamed. “It’s going to be a fun week.”
“It is.” Landon stroked his hand down the back of my head. “I’m sorry about earlier … and yesterday … and last night. I don’t know why it bothered me so much, but I shouldn’t have taken it out on you.”
“It’s okay. I take things out on you all of the time.”
“I know, but … you didn’t deserve it. I think you’ve been through enough the past three days.”
“I haven’t been through anything. I’ve been with you. That makes it a perfect weekend.”
“Oh, that’s why you’re my favorite.” Landon slipped his arms around my waist and tugged me close. “I’m ready to get out of here. How about you?”
“I was ready an hour ago.”
“Oh, my … gawd!” Mrs. Little squealed the last word so loudly I had no choice but to jerk my head in her direction.
“What’s your deal?”
“You’re being filthy in public,” Mrs. Little hissed. “How is that not against the law?”
“It is, but I’m an FBI agent. I can abuse the rules,” Landon said, his lips quirking. “Come on, Aunt Tillie. Toss that thing in there. I’m tired and I want to spend the day with my girl.”
For a moment I thought Aunt Tillie would put up a fight. She looked to be in the mood to throw down, maybe even curse a little for good measure. If she made me smell like bacon for the week Landon would officially be in heaven. Instead she merely shook her head and uncapped the potion bottle.
“What are you doing?” Mrs. Little squeaked, panic overtaking her. “Don’t you dare throw that in the well. I thought you would brag or something first, that I would have time to come up with a plan.”
Aunt Tillie shrugged and tossed the potion into the well, not bothering to cringe or jolt when it exploded upon hitting the bottom. Thankfully the purple smoke rolling up was minimal … and kind of pretty.
“I thought I would gloat a little bit, too,” Aunt Tillie admitted, casting me a sidelong look. “It turns out that there really is something more important than winning.”
“Since when?” Thistle asked, dumbfounded.
“Since now.” Aunt Tillie heaved out a sigh. “Go forth and be filthy. We’re done here.”
Landon’s smile was impish. “Don’t mind if I do.”
“ANOTHER ONE?”
Landon was all smiles as he ripped my newest ticket off his pad and handed it to me several days later. I rolled to my back on his couch and read it, snorting when I saw the fine spelled out in his precise handwriting.
“Really? You want to eat bacon while I’m massaging you? That sounds like a greasy mess.”
“Only if you do it right.” Landon pressed a kiss to my cheek as he sat next to me. “What did you do while I was at work today?”
“I packed everything that you didn’t need in your office, filed two articles and texted with Clove.”
“What’s wrong with Clove?”
“She works with Thistle.”
“Ah, well, enough said.” Landon grabbed my hand and tugged it to his chest so he could study my fingertips. “Were you bored?”
“No. I appreciated the dirty texts you sent me.”
“I only had time for three today. I was busy.”
“I figured that out myself.”
“I’m trying to finish everything up so we can leave Friday morning to head back to Hemlock Cove early,” Landon said. “I’m ready to go home.”
He said the word easily, which warmed my heart, but I couldn’t help but be a bit surprised. “I thought you wanted more time alone?”
“We’ve spent the past few days alone. It’s not as if we’ll be surrounded by people all of the time. Thistle spends the bulk of her time at Marcus’ place now, and Clove lives with Sam. It’s already kind of like the guesthouse is ours.”
“I’m not complaining – I want you to think of the guesthouse as your home because it is – but I’m surprised you don’t want to take advantage of this setup after how terrible last weekend was.”
“Did you think it was terrible?” Landon looked legitimately curious. “I thought it was only mildly annoying.”
“That’s not what you said when I was walking around with a black eye.”
“Yes, but that’s mostly faded now.” He gently ran his knuckles down the side of my face. “I had fun last weekend despite some of the more … extravagant … obstacles we faced.”
“Extravagant? That’s an interesting word choice.”
“I think it’s the right one,” Landon explained. “When I fell in love with you I knew I was getting an exciting life in the bargain. I don’t think I had a choice falling in love with you. I think it was meant to be from the moment I met you.”
“Are you okay with all of the excitement? I mean … there are going to be times when things get out of control. Heck, with my family, it seems to happen weekly. Aunt Tillie might not curse another wishing well … or send us into a book of fairy tales … or even trap us in her memories. She will think of something to annoy us, though.”
“I’m okay with that.” Landon’s smile was impish. “She’s part of our lives. I wouldn’t trade that for anything, no matter how annoying she is.”
“She’s been texting, too,” I admitted. “She wants to know if you’ve arrested me for having a filthy mind yet. She also wants to know when we’ll be back, because she’s sick of Mom focusing all of her attention on her and wants to break free.”
Landon snickered, mirth lighting his face. “Well, don’t tell her we’re coming back early. Let her suffer.”
“Games?”
“Aunt Tillie isn’t the only one who can play them.”
“I’m glad you’re comfortable thinking of Hemlock Cove as home,” I said after a beat. “I want it to be your home.”
“You’re my home. Hemlock Cove is just a really weird bonus. It’s a bonus that occasionally causes me to see flying people … and talking bears … and cranky witches. It’s still home.”
“It is.” I rested my head against his shoulder. “We’re almost there. In one month you’ll be in Hemlock Cove full time. I’m really excited. I know that sounds cheesy, but there it is. I can’t stop smiling I’m so excited.”
Landon offered me an exaggerated grin, as if he wholeheartedly agreed with me. “I like cheese. It’s okay.”
“I like cheese, too.” I matched my fingers to his, enjoying the way his hand dwarfed mine before linking them. “Cheese is especially good when you mix it with bacon.”
“And that right there is why you’re my favorite person in the world.” Landon smacked a loud kiss against my lips. “So, how does dinner and a movie sound?”
“Great.”
“Good. We’ll enjoy the rest of our alone time tonight and head home tomorrow.”
“That sounds like a plan.”
Landon grabbed his ticket book and started writing.
“What are you doing?”
“I only have one more night to cite you. I’m going to make this last one good.”
I ran my finger down his cheek and captured an errant eyelash, holding it up for him. He dragged his eyes from me, curious.
“What?”
“Make a wish.”
“I have everything I want … except for bacon. We need to add bacon.”
“Of course we do.”
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About the Author
I want to thank everyone who takes the time to read my novels. I have a particular brand of humor that isn’t for everyone – and I know that.
If you liked the book, please take a few minutes and leave a review. An independent author does it all on their own, and the reviews are helpful. I understand that my characters aren’t for everyone, though. There’s a lot of snark and sarcasm in my world – and I know some people don’t like that.
Special thanks go out to Heidi Bitsoli and Phil VanHulle for correcting the (numerous) errors that creep into a work of fiction.
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This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.
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Books by Amanda M. Lee
An Avery Shaw Mystery
Who, What, Where, When, Die
If it Bleeds, it Leads
Buried Leads
Shot Off The Presses
The Preditorial Page
Misquoted & Demoted
Headlines & Deadlines
Misprints & Mistakes
Bylines & Skylines
Off the Record
Unwritten & Underwater
A Wicked Witches of the Midwest Mystery
Any Witch Way You Can
Every Witch Way But Wicked
Witching You Were Here
Witching on a Star
Something to Witch About
Witch Me Luck
Life’s a Witch
Charms & Witchdemeanors
The Trouble With Witches
Murder Most Witchy
A Wicked Witches of the Midwest Short
Make A Witch Page 18