Witching You Were Here (Wicked Witches of the Midwest Book 3) (31 page)
Read Witching You Were Here (Wicked Witches of the Midwest Book 3) Online
Authors: Amanda M. Lee
More surprising than that, though, was the fact that I had told Landon everything. I had told him about the wind monster we had conjured and how, at that last second when it passed us, I could have sworn it looked back at me with my Uncle Calvin’s eyes. I only knew those eyes from pictures, so I couldn’t be sure. I hadn’t pressed Aunt Tillie on that – yet. It was coming at some point.
Landon had taken the information better than I expected. Instead of freaking out, he just asked more questions: Questions about our family, questions about our history., questions about our legacy. He seemed interested more than anything else. There was no fear in the queries, only curiosity. I felt relieved by the realization that he wasn’t going to run this time. I didn’t want to push him too far, though. At least not right away.
On the fourth night after our adventure, Landon had returned home to get more clothes and spend some time with his brother. He said he would be back tomorrow – and I found I was looking forward to it. Things were in a comfortable place for us right now, and I didn’t think I could ask for much more than that.
On this particular evening, after a tense meal at the inn with our moms and Chief Terry – where he informed us that Byron and Lillian Hobbes had been turned over to Canadian police – Clove, Thistle and I were relaxing on the couch in front of a roaring fire when the conversation took a turn in the direction I had been dreading for days.
“There’s something that still doesn’t add up,” Thistle said finally.
“The Dragonfly,” I agreed.
“Trevor said he didn’t have anything to do with the Dragonfly,” Clove said. “He said he’d never been out there and never heard of it.”
“So who was out at the Dragonfly?” Thistle sipped from her cup of hot chocolate and raised an eyebrow at Clove.
“Does it matter?” Clove asked irritably. “Can’t we just be happy that we’re all alive and that I picked another loser? Why don’t we just focus on that?”
“You’ll find someone, Clove,” I said soothingly. “You just need to get better radar when it comes to men.”
“You didn’t know that there was anything wrong with Trevor either,” she said accusingly.
“We didn’t spend as much time with him as you did,” Thistle said.
“That’s not the point,” Clove said stubbornly.
“Fine, we were all wrong about Trevor,” I said in a placating manner. When she wasn’t looking, though, I crossed my eyes in Thistle’s direction, causing her to choke on her hot chocolate as she stifled the giggle bubbling in her throat.
“So,” Clove changed the subject. “What do you think was going on out at the Dragonfly?”
“Maybe we’ll never know,” I said thoughtfully.
“Or maybe we should go find out right now?” Thistle suggested.
“No, no, no, no, no, no,” Clove shook her head. “I’m not going back out there.”
I got to my feet, nodding in Thistle’s direction. There was one aspect of this case that just didn’t fit. The Dragonfly. We had to know. Thistle had to know. “Let’s go. We’re not going to get a better chance than now. Marcus is still at work and Landon is staying in Traverse City tonight.”
“I’m not going,” Clove crossed her arms over her chest stubbornly.
“Fine,” Thistle said meanly. “Stay here where it’s warm and safe. Bay and I will do all the work, like we usually do.”
Clove huffed angrily. “I’ll go, but I’m not going because you called me chicken.”
“I didn’t call you chicken,” Thistle countered. “I hadn’t gotten there yet.”
Clove sighed in defeat. “Let’s just get it over with.”
We all got dressed and piled into Thistle’s car. The adrenaline of another adventure was starting to pump through our veins, and it couldn’t be tamped down. When we got out to the Dragonfly, Thistle parked where she usually did. As a change of pace, there was a car parked in front of the inn.
Thistle turned to me. “What do you think?”
“I think, instead of sneaking around, we should just take the bull by the horns and approach whoever is in there and ask them what they’re doing,” I said finally. “That would be the mature thing to do.”
“I think we should sneak around and eavesdrop,” Clove said. “It’s safer.”
Thistle cocked her head. “I agree with Bay.”
“Of course you do,” Clove muttered. “You always agree with Bay. Just remember, if you get me killed, I will never forgive you.”
“We know,” I sighed.
“My ghost will haunt your ghosts until the end of days,” Clove continued.
“I get it,” Thistle replied. “Believe me, I get it.”
We all got out of the car and walked to the front porch of the Dragonfly. There was a light on in the foyer, but the door was shut. Thistle tried to peek in through the window, but she obviously couldn’t see anything because she shook her head and moved back to my side.
“Should we knock?” I whispered.
“That will just give whoever is in there a chance to hide whatever they’re doing,” Thistle whispered back.
She was right. I took a deep breath, grabbed the door handle and turned it. The door opened with no effort, the light inside washing over us as it slid open.
There were three men standing in the middle of the room looking into a box. Three faces looked up in surprise when the door sprung open. One of those faces belonged to Uncle Teddy – and the other two were equally recognizable.
“What are you doing here?” Thistle strode into the room purposefully. She glanced into the box in surprise, reaching her hand in and pulling out a fistful of . . . fabric samples. “With a box of fabric?”
Clove glanced into another open box on the small table next to her – a new table, with maple finishing that had just recently been moved into the previously vacant room. “And tile samples?”
“I can explain,” Uncle Teddy said hurriedly. The two men with him remained silent – and stunned by our sudden arrival.
“Explain what?” Thistle charged angrily. “Why you’re sneaking around out here? Why you have sample boxes everywhere?” She turned to me, the unasked question on her lips was running through my mind, too. I didn’t know what to think.
“We bought the Dragonfly because we’re going to open an inn here, together,” Uncle Teddy said hurriedly.
“Why were you keeping it a secret?”
“We didn’t want to tip your Aunt Tillie off,” he replied. “She can be a little testy, as you well know.”
“Why would she care?” I asked, speaking for the first time. My eyes never left the individual standing right behind Uncle Teddy. His eyes were trained on me, as well. He didn’t speak, though, and I didn’t address him right away.
“We’ll be competition,” Uncle Teddy said lamely. “It’s not like she likes us anyways. This will make her go crazy. Even crazier than she is now.”
“She doesn’t care about competition,” Thistle scoffed. “This area can easily support a new inn.”
“With us running it?” Uncle Teddy looked dubious.
He had a point. Finally, the silent man standing behind Uncle Teddy stepped shakily forward. “Hello, Bay.”
“Hi, dad.”
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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Wicked Witches of the Midwest Mysteries