Witching You Were Here (Wicked Witches of the Midwest Book 3) (12 page)

I slid over to her side and tried to help tug them up. They wouldn’t budge, though.

“I’m going to kill that old woman,” Thistle grunted out.

I looked up when I saw movement out of the corner of my eye. Clove was standing in the door wearing her own set of jeans. “Mine still fit.”

“It’s just Thistle,” I said.

“Do you think it is Aunt Tillie?”

“Who else?” Thistle barked.

“We can’t be sure,” Clove wrung her hands frantically. “If you go after her and we’re not one hundred percent sure then she’ll strike back even worse.”

“You wouldn’t be thinking that if your pants didn’t fit,” Thistle shot back.

She had a point. “Maybe she did that on purpose?” I suggested after a second.

“What do you mean?” Thistle asked distractedly. She was still trying to tug the jeans up.

“Maybe she went after Thistle and left the two of us alone because she knew we’d be less likely to go after her?”

Thistle narrowed her eyes. “That would be just like her.”

“You’re not suggesting we go after her, are you?” Clove asked.

“Stop being such a Pollyanna,” Thistle grumbled. “We have got to present a united front.”

“None of our revenge schemes ever go as planned, though,” Clove said. “Every time we try to think of something it backfires and then she just goes on a rampage that we end up regretting.”

This was true.

“Then we’re going to come up with a really good plan,” Thistle said.

“Or, you could just apologize,” Clove suggested.

“Over my dead body,” Thistle shot back. “Or yours, if need be.”

Clove visibly blanched. She looked to me for help. “You don’t agree with her, do you?”

“I haven’t decided yet,” I said grimly.

“Well, you better decide,” Thistle said, her dark eyes flashing with fire. “Because starting today, Operation Takedown Aunt Tillie is on.”

I SHOWERED
and got dressed once Thistle and Clove vacated my room. When I exited into the living room, I found the two of them sitting at the kitchen counter drinking coffee. Clove was dressed for work and Thistle had changed into a pair of jogging pants. At least they still fit.

“Are you going to work wearing that?”

“Do I have a choice?” Thistle asked bitterly.

“She can do inventory in the back room,” Clove said helpfully. “No one will see her there.”

“What’s wrong with what I’m wearing?” Thistle asked pitifully.

“Nothing, if you’re going to the gym,” I said brightly.

“You’re dead to me,” she grimaced, taking a big swig of coffee.

“That’s just coffee, right?”

“I might have put a little something in it to take the edge off,” Clove said evasively.

Thistle chugged some more of her coffee, muttering to herself as she did. I couldn’t understand her, but I did hear something about Aunt Tillie and getting what she deserved. “Don’t let her drive to work.”

“I already confiscated the keys,” Clove said blandly.

Any further conversation was cut short by a knock at the door. “It’s probably Trevor,” Clove said, suddenly sitting up straighter. “He didn’t finish yesterday and said he would be coming back today.”

“You have to drive Thistle to work,” I reminded her as I moved towards the door.

“I know,” Clove said sarcastically. “I’m not stupid.”

“I didn’t say you were stupid,” I admonished her. “I was just making sure you didn’t get distracted by anything handsome and forget what you were supposed to be doing.”

I opened the door, expecting to find Trevor, but I found Landon standing there with a box of donuts instead.

“What are you doing here?” I blurted out.

“Bay!” Clove jumped to her feet and ran to the door. “Don’t be rude to our guest. Oh, it’s Landon.”

Landon couldn’t miss the disappointment in Clove’s voice. “Is now a bad time?” He asked.

I opened the door and let him in. “That depends on who you ask.”

“I’m asking you.”

“What kind of donuts do you have in there?”

“Freshly baked cake donuts with chocolate and sprinkles from the Gunderson bakery,” Landon said. “I wasn’t sure about the sprinkles, but she said that they were your favorite.”

That’s what happens when you grow up in a small town. “Thistle doesn’t like sprinkles,” I said. “And she’s the one having a bad morning.”

“There are two apple fritters in there, too,” Landon said. “Mrs. Gunderson said they were Thistle’s favorite. She said Clove liked the chocolate and sprinkles.”

“I do,” Clove agreed, digging into the donut box enthusiastically. She handed me a donut – which was still warm – and then took the box over to Thistle. I watched as Thistle grudgingly dug through the box and pulled out an apple fritter. I waited until she had taken a bite before I spoke.

“Are you sure you should be eating the empty calories?”

Clove’s mouth dropped open in disapproving surprise. “That was mean.”

Thistle rounded on me, never leaving the stool she was sitting on. “I wouldn’t start, if I were you.”

“What’s wrong with Thistle?” Landon asked breaking a piece off of my donut and popping it into his mouth. “These are really good.”

“Hey, that’s mine!”

“Clove ran away with the rest of them.”

“Bring the donuts back,” I ordered.

Clove dropped the box on the coffee table between us, bending to whisper in my ear as she did. “Don’t push her too far. She’s going to explode soon, and we don’t want her exploding all over us.”

Clove straightened back up when there was another knock at the door. “I’ll get it.”

“Are you expecting someone else?” Landon asked curiously.

“Clove’s boyfriend,” I teased.

“Clove has a boyfriend?”

“Don’t sound so surprised,” Clove shot back. “And no, he’s not my boyfriend. He’s a handyman that is doing some work here.”

Landon turned to me questioningly. “Why is she so excited about a handyman?”

“Wait until you see him,” I said, grabbing another donut from the box.

Landon watched Clove curiously as she answered the door. “She’s not very good at the flirting thing, is she?”

“Not really,” I agreed. “So, what’s going on?”

“Can’t I just bring you warm donuts in the morning?”

“You don’t usually.”

“Well, maybe I’m turning over a new leaf?”

“This is a really yummy leaf.”

“Would you have let me in without the donuts?” Landon asked curiously.

“Probably not,” I said. “Thistle is having a bad morning.”

“I noticed,” Landon said. He was watching Trevor as he unpacked his tools and chatted with Clove across the room. “What’s wrong with her?”

“None of her pants fit.”

“I don’t understand.”

“She woke up this morning and none of her pants fit.”

“How does that happen? Has she gained weight?” Landon looked Thistle up and down dubiously.

“No, she hasn’t gained weight,” I said evasively.

“Then why don’t her pants fit?”

“Aunt Tillie,” Thistle seethed from her spot at the counter. “That evil old lady has cursed me. Again.”

I glanced at Landon to gauge his reaction. I wasn’t sure how he would react.

“She cursed you so your pants wouldn’t fit? She can do that?”

“She can do more than that,” Thistle said grimly. “I’m going to do worse to her in retribution, though.”

“Like what?” Landon seemed genuinely curious.

“I haven’t decided yet,” Thistle said. “The three of us have to put our heads together and come up with something.”

“You’re going to help her?” Landon turned to me.

“I haven’t decided yet.”

“Aren’t you guys all about family loyalty?”

“Yes,” I nodded. “Aunt Tillie can be . . . unpleasant, though, when you go after her.”

“More unpleasant than making it so your pants don’t fit?” Landon actually seemed to be enjoying this.

“When I was in college, she cursed me so I could only make left-hand turns,” I admitted. I figured I might as well go for broke. He was taking things relatively well, at this point.

“How does that work?”

“Let’s just say it took me a long time to get to class,” I said.

Thistle joined me on the couch, reaching inside of the donut box and pulling out another apple fritter. “She once cursed me so that every time I bent over my pants ripped and it sounded like I was farting.”

I laughed silently at the memory. “That one was kind of funny.”

“Not when you’re sixteen,” Thistle shot back.

“She once cursed Clove so her eyebrows fell out and she had to draw them on for two months,” I interjected.

“Shhh!”

Thistle and I glanced across the room at Clove, who was frantically waving for us to keep our voices down. Thistle shook her head irritably.

“So, what you’re saying is that your Aunt Tillie has made a practice of torturing you since you were kids?”

“Pretty much,” Thistle said.

“And your moms let her?”

“They’re just glad she’s not doing it to them anymore,” I said.

“She’s still doing it to them sometimes,” Thistle corrected me. “Last month she cursed Twila so every time she cooked something it burned.”

“That’s true,” I said.

Landon couldn’t help himself, he started laughing hysterically. “I thought my family was bad.”

Thistle and I exchanged a look and then we joined him. Sometimes, all you can do is laugh. When we all sobered up, I turned to him. “Why did you stop by this morning?”

“To bring you donuts,” he said simply.

“And?”

“I just thought you would want to know what we’ve found out about Byron and Lillian Hobbes.”

“Did you find them?”

“No. We actually don’t have much. We’ve talked to their family and they haven’t heard from them in almost a week,” Landon said evenly.

“That doesn’t sound good,” Thistle said.

“I agree,” Landon said.

“So, what’s next?” I asked.

“We’ll just have to wait and see,” Landon said. “We’re continuing the search in the channel, but we have no idea if anyone is actually out there.”

“They couldn’t still be alive, could they?” Thistle asked.

“That’s extremely doubtful,” Landon said. “Unless they got on another boat, or something. I would think we would have heard about that, though.”

“So, you’re assuming they’re dead,” I supplied.

“That’s the overriding theory for now,” Landon said carefully.

I glanced up at the clock and realized it was after 8
a.m.. “Crap, I have to get to work.”

Looks like I was the one that had gotten distracted by something handsome after all.

When I got to the newspaper, I was stuffed from the three – yes, three – donuts I had consumed this morning. I was starting to feel like my own pants were getting a little too tight. I was hoping that was just the donuts and not a delayed curse.

When I got to my office, Edith was pacing – or rather floating -- back and forth in front of my desk.

“He was on the phone again this morning,” Edith said.

“With who? My Uncle Teddy?”

“I don’t know, but he was acting sketchy,” Edith replied.

“Define sketchy.”

“He said that an offer had been made and the only thing left was for it to be accepted,” Edith whispered.

“Why are you whispering?”

“He’s just down the hall.”

“He can’t hear you, though,” I reminded her.

Edith pursed her lips disapprovingly. “Thanks for reminding me.”

“I’m sorry, Edith,” I blew out a frustrated sigh. “It’s been a long morning.”

“What’s wrong?” Edith asked. She actually looked concerned.

“Aunt Tillie cursed Thistle this morning.”

“She swore at her?”

“No, she made it so none of her pants would fit.”

Edith narrowed her eyes suspiciously. “She can do that?”

“Yeah. She’s done that and a lot worse throughout the years,” I said wearily.

“Has she ever done that to people outside of your family?”

That was a pretty good question. “I don’t know,” I shrugged. “Are you asking for a specific reason?”

“It’s just that . . .” Edith looked like she was biting her lip. “Back when I first started working for the paper your Uncle Calvin came in one day to buy an ad.”

I had no idea where she was going with this.

“Anyway, the next day I woke up and I found that all my shoes were too small,” Edith continued. “And not just too small. They really pinched and hurt. When I put my feet in them, it felt like I was stepping on nails.”