Merry Witchmas: A Wicked Witches of the Midwest Short (Wicked Witches of the Midwest Shorts Book 10)

by Amanda M. Lee

“Hey, I bought off you little gluttons with hot chocolate, doughnuts and candy,” I reminded them. “I didn’t do that out of the goodness of my heart. It was a bribe. That means you need to shut your mouths.”

  “I thought that was the rule when we were in front of other people,” Clove said, feigning innocence. “Whoops.”

  “Yeah, well, I’m going to put that whoops up your behind if you’re not careful,” I warned.

  “Oh, I feel so loved,” Clove deadpanned, earning a stern look from her mother. “What? I think my eyes are leaking.”

  “Knock that off,” Marnie warned, wagging a finger in her daughter’s face. “That might work on other people, but it doesn’t work on me.”

  “Nope. They’re definitely leaking.” Clove made a big show of swiping at her dry cheeks. “I think I hurt my heart.”

  “Your butt is going to hurt if you don’t zip it,” Marnie shot back. “Good grief.”

  “Why are you making them lie to Terry and Mrs. Little?” Winnie asked.

  Was that a serious question? I can never tell. Winnie’s sense of humor comes and goes like a fart in a car when the window is cracked. Sometimes you’re certain it’s there and other times you think it escaped out the window. That’s how I felt today. “I didn’t tell them to lie.” That’s technically the truth. “They just did it. I have no idea why.”

  “Why did you do it?” Winnie asked Bay.

  “Because Aunt Tillie says that we should always protect family over everyone else, and that Mrs. Little is a crone who lives in a glass house,” Bay answered. “I’ve seen that house, though. Only the windows are glass.”

  “That’s not really helping, Bay,” I said.

  “I didn’t know that’s what I was supposed to be doing,” Bay said. “Can I go upstairs and read for an hour before dinner?”

  “Sure.” Winnie smoothed Bay’s hair before the girl hopped down from her stool.

  Bay flashed a smile in my direction as she headed for the stairs. “I’m sorry you’re in trouble, Aunt Tillie,” she sang out.

  She didn’t sound sorry.

  “I’m sorry, too,” Thistle said, touching my arm as she passed. “The doughnuts were delicious, though.”

  “We’ll talk about the doughnuts when I track down you little turncoats later,” I said.

  “I’m looking forward to it.”

  Once it was just my three nieces and me, I found something fascinating to stare at on the wall. There was nothing there, but I’ve found that pretending I see things helps avoid an argument if I play the game correctly.

  “Stop doing that,” Winnie said, lightly slapping my arm.

  Apparently I was off my game today. “I don’t know what you want me to say,” I said. “I was actually helping clean out driveways … you remember Mrs. Franz, right? … and somehow the snow accidentally made it from the end of her driveway into Margaret’s yard. It was an accident.”

  “You know we don’t believe that, right?” Marnie challenged. “I honestly don’t care about you filling in Mrs. Little’s driveway. That’s the least destructive thing you’ve done to her all year. I care about you teaching the girls to lie to Terry.”

  “Technically only Clove and Thistle lied to Terry,” I said. What? If they’re going to turn on me, I’m going to pay them back. “Bay kind of talked around the situation. She didn’t tell an outright lie.”

  Winnie seemed pleased with the knowledge. “Well, I guess that’s not bad for her then.”

  “Yes, she’s a regular angel,” I deadpanned. “Now will you give me some cookies to take to the contest?”

  “No.” Mean Winnie was back with a vengeance. “We’re not doing that. If you want to win the baking contest – and I think it would be great for you to get involved because it might keep you out of trouble for an afternoon – you need to make your own cookies.”

  That didn’t sound like any fun at all. “Why would I bake my own cookies when there are piles of them in this house just waiting for me to pretend I baked them?”

  “Because that’s cheating.”

  “Since when do I care about that?”

  Winnie scorched me with a look. “Since you’re supposed to be on your best behavior and leading by example,” she replied. “Your actions today weren’t what we had in mind.”

  “Hey, the day was going fine until they claimed they saw a dead body in the woods,” I said. “I maintain they derailed things. I was an innocent bystander.”

  “Yeah, that’s weird, right?” Twila said. “Do you really think there was a body out there?”

  I shrugged. “It looked like something had been resting in the snow, but for all we know it was a bag of garbage,” I said. “Also, maybe someone did fall down. Maybe one of the elves got drunk. I have no idea what they really saw. It clearly wasn’t a dead body, though.”

  “Well, that might be the only bit of good news we’ve gotten today,” Marnie said. “You need to be careful about what you say in front of those girls. Remember what we talked about before you left. Set a good example.”

  “Yeah. I’ll never forget that conversation.” Mostly because it was so excruciating it was seared in my mind forever, I silently added. “Is that all?”

  “Yes,” Winnie answered. “Dinner will be ready in an hour.”

  “Can I steal some cookies?” Asking one more time couldn’t possibly hurt.

  “No.”

  “Fine,” I huffed. “I want you all to know you’re on my list, though.”

  “We were on your list this afternoon,” Twila pointed out.

  “Yes, but this time I’m going to do something about it,” I said, stalking toward the door. “You’re all going to pay for ruining my day. Mark my words.”

  Winnie appeared completely disinterested in my threat. “Wash your hands before you come to dinner. I can see you’ve been busy with the fudge, and you refuse to use a napkin unless we make you.”

  I narrowed my eyes. Clearly they’d gone too long without having to pay for their transgressions. I would fix that right up.

  I FOUND the girls getting dressed in their bedroom the next morning, the smell of bacon wafting through the vents and informing me that their mothers were already downstairs cooking. They seemed surprised by my appearance, mostly because I generally showed up in their room only after they vacated the premises and I wanted to mess with them.

  “What do you want?” Thistle asked, instantly suspicious. “If you’re here to pay us back for yesterday, I’m prepared to scream and call for my mother.”

  “Oh, like that really terrifies me,” I said, rolling my eyes. “Your mother frightens me least of the three.”

  “I’ll scream for my mother, too,” Clove warned.

  “I’m still not frightened.” I looked to Bay. Her expression was unreadable.

  “I’m too tired to scream,” Bay said. “I didn’t sleep well.”

  Now that I gave her a good once over, she did appear paler than usual. I pressed my hand to her forehead as I studied the dark circles under her eyes. “Are you sick?”

  “Eww. If you’re sick, get away from me,” Thistle said, shoving Bay’s arm. “I don’t want to get sick right before Santa comes. That would be the biggest holiday bummer of them all.”

  “I’m not sick,” Bay said, glaring at her cousin. “I just didn’t sleep well.”

  “Why not?” I asked, pulling my hand away. “You don’t feel warm.”

  “I had nightmares,” Bay said. “I saw the man in the woods, and he was haunting us.”

  This was a difficult situation because Bay could actually see and talk to ghosts. It was a family gift she inherited from me. Unlike the other gifts – like the ability to curse people and make magical potions to play with your enemies – the ghost gift was difficult to bear. I was fairly certain Bay would rather surrender it than keep it. That wasn’t in the cards for her, though.

  “Did you actually see this man or was it a dream?” I asked.

  Bay realized what I was asking ri
ght away. “It was a dream,” she said. “He was chasing me through the house. Instead of pink socks, though, he didn’t have feet and he was bleeding from the ankles.”

  “Oh, gross,” Clove said, wrinkling her nose. “Thanks so much for telling me that. Now I’m going to have nightmares.”

  “I won’t,” Thistle said. “I’m far scarier than any guy without feet.”

  Sadly, I figured she was probably right. “Girls, there was no body in the woods,” I said. I saw no point in letting them freak themselves out when there was no reason – or benefit for me – and I hoped I’d be able to calm them since I had a favor to ask. “The time between when you found him and we made it back to that spot was less than ten minutes. Where did he go?”

  “Maybe someone killed him and dragged his body away,” Clove suggested.

  “There were no drag marks, and you need to stop watching horror movies with your cousins because they always make you see things that aren’t there,” I chided.

  “Maybe he died and came back as a zombie,” Thistle said. “I saw that on a movie the other day. All of these people were in a farmhouse and zombies were going after them. They died first, and then got up and started walking.”

  “Zombies aren’t real,” I said. “You need to stop watching so much television, too.”

  “I saw that movie, and I didn’t understand why they didn’t run,” Bay interjected. “The zombies were really slow. They were like Aunt Tillie on mornings before she has her coffee.”

  “Don’t make me add you to my list,” I warned, extending a finger and making her giggle. “There was no body in the woods. I don’t know what you think you saw, but it wasn’t a body.”

  “It was,” Thistle said, stubbornly crossing her arms over her chest. “We know what we saw. You can’t convince us otherwise.”

  “Fine. It was a zombie.” I held up my hands to signify defeat. “If we’re lucky he’ll head to Margaret’s house and we won’t have to worry about him. She’s so old and gristly it will take him years to gnaw through all of her skin and bones.”

  “You’re so gross,” Clove said, making a face.

  “Not that we’re not glad to see you, because we are, but why are you up here?” Bay asked. In some ways she’s the smartest of the trio.

  “I’m not happy to see you,” Thistle said. “I am curious about why you’re here, though.” In other ways she’s smartest of the group.

  “I’m totally happy to see you and don’t care why you’re here,” Clove added. She’ll never be the smartest of the group, but she has her own special blend of mayhem that’s going to be intriguing to watch as she grows older.

  “I have a favor to ask of you,” I said, choosing my words carefully. “I figure you owe me after tattling to your mothers last night.”

  “What do you want?” Bay asked, suspicious.

  “She wants us to bake her cookies,” Thistle said. “She couldn’t con our mothers into doing it and now she has no one to ask but us.”

  Okay, she has control of the collective brain today. That much is obvious. “I’ll pay you,” I offered.

  “How much?” Clove asked.

  “Five dollars.”

  “Fifty and you have a deal,” Thistle countered.

  “Fifty?” What a bunch of money-hungry jerks. They almost make me proud. “I’m not giving you fifty bucks for cookies. There’s no way.”

  “Then we’re not baking you cookies,” Thistle said.

  “Hold up,” Bay said, putting her hand on Thistle’s arm. Her blue eyes were keen when they locked with mine. “I have a solution that helps everyone, and it doesn’t involve money.”

  “I’m all ears,” I said.

  “We’ll bake your cookies if you help us figure out who died in the woods,” Bay suggested.

  I opened my mouth to argue about whether or not they really saw a body and then snapped it shut. I was convinced no one died in the woods. I was equally convinced it couldn’t hurt to pretend to investigate a fake death with them.

  “Fine,” I said, extending my hand. “You have a deal.”

  “We want hot chocolate while we’re investigating, too,” Thistle said, staying Bay’s hand before she could seal the deal. “We might want some doughnuts, too.”

  “Don’t push your luck,” I warned.

  “Fine, hot chocolate is enough.”

  I shook three small hands and exchanged multiple big smiles as visions of Margaret’s face when she realized I stole the blue ribbon from her danced through my head. My reverie lasted only a few moments, though, because Bay’s pragmatism dragged me back to solid ground.

  “How are we going to bake without our mothers knowing?” she asked.

  “You leave your mothers to me,” I said. “I have everything under control.”

  I was almost sure of it.

  Five

  “What are we doing?”

  Thistle jerked her head away when I tried to secure the strap of the blue combat helmet under her chin. She was naturally suspicious where I was concerned. I don’t blame her.

  “We’re going to town,” I replied. “You have to wear your helmet. I made a promise to your mothers.”

  “Yes, but you lie all of the time,” Thistle pointed out. “What makes this different?”

  “I don’t lie all of the time,” I corrected. “I expound on certain facts that other people might not believe are facts. It’s different.”

  Bay made a face. “Facts are supposed to be something everyone agrees on. That’s how they end up in research books.”

  Now it was my turn to make a face. “You need to stop spending so much time with your nose in books because you’re going to grow up to be boring if you’re not careful,” I chided. “Men like smart women, but they don’t like boring women. Well, I guess that’s not true. Some men like boring women. Those aren’t the type of men you want to associate with, though. Wait … what was I saying again?”

  “You were saying that Bay is boring and I’m funny and cute,” Thistle replied.

  “That’s not what I was saying,” I said, remembering where I was in the conversation. “As for facts being universal, that’s not even remotely true. Facts are affected by individual perspective. No, I’m telling the truth. That’s a real scientific fact. I’m good at science. I could be a scientist professionally.”

  Bay wrinkled her nose as she fastened the strap of her purple combat helmet under her chin. She never gave me issues about wearing the helmet. I think it’s because she’s smart enough to recognize her own mortality. She’s a worrisome little thing sometimes. Kids her age shouldn’t be fixated on death. Because she sees ghosts, though, I think her life is going to be filled with crud like that.

  “That doesn’t change the fact that you lie to other people all of the time, and I don’t want to wear this helmet,” Thistle said. “It makes me look stupid.”

  “You do that to yourself,” I said. “Also, there’s a difference between lying to other people and making a promise to your mothers. I swore I would keep you safe because they seem to love you. I personally don’t get it. I mean … I would’ve left you in the woods for wolves to eat when you were little if I had my druthers, but I promised my nieces, and that means you’re wearing that helmet.”

  “You don’t have to wear a helmet,” Clove pointed out. “Why?”

  “Because her head is hard and only a rock could break it,” Thistle answered for me. “I heard Mom saying that to Aunt Marnie last week.”

  “Your mother’s mouth is absolutely huge,” I said. “She’s going to cry her eyes out when I bring up all of these fun tidbits she’s been passing on to you girls while I’ve been too distracted to notice.”

  “Well, that might be fun, too,” Thistle said as she stopped fidgeting with the helmet. She was apparently resigned to wearing it into town to start our investigation.

  “Did you guys feed and water the dog?” I asked. The mutt they coveted beyond everything slept on a blanket in front of the fire most of
the time when it was cold, but they were fairly diligent about taking care of the Christmas gift I secured for them a few years ago.

  “Yes, Sugar had breakfast and went outside,” Bay answered. “I think he’s hoping Mom bakes again later today. Something always seems to fall on the kitchen floor when Sugar is around.”

  “Yes, well, your mother is a sap,” I said, gesturing toward the truck. “Everyone needs to get in so we can get going. I have an idea about who you might’ve seen in the woods.”

  “You do?” Thistle appeared to be caught between excitement and doubt. She didn’t fully trust me. She probably never would. Smart girl.

  “I do,” I confirmed. “We just have one quick stop to make before we hit town.”

  “Are you going to plow in Mrs. Little’s driveway again?” Clove asked as she settled in the middle of the seat next to Thistle.

  “That’s a horrible thing to ask me,” I said. “Do you think I’m purposely mean to people?”

  Clove answered without hesitation. “Yes.”

  “Well, it’s good that you recognize people for what they are,” I said. “We are stopping by Mrs. Little’s on our way to town.”

  “Yay!” Clove clapped her hands as I circled the truck and climbed into the driver’s seat.

  “Is everyone ready?” I asked. Three solemn heads nodded. “Great.”

  “Just one thing,” Thistle said, locking gazes with me. “Have you ever thought that the snow would be even better at the end of the driveway if it was yellow?”

  I tilted my head to the side as I considered the question. “I like the way your mind works. Yellow snow it is.”

  “Double yay!” Clove clapped again.

  “That gets annoying sometimes,” I informed her.

  “My eyes leak when you say things like that.”

  “WHERE ARE we?”

  Bay’s expressive blue eyes were cloudy as I led the girls along the sidewalk in a quiet Walkerville neighborhood. I was still riding high from the Yellow Snow Extravaganza (all of the girls got in on the fun) in front of Margaret’s house. I had no idea when she would see it. I was really looking forward to the outcome, though.