13. Thirteen
THIRTEEN
“ W hat was that?” Landon demanded once Aunt Tillie was gone.
“I just suggested, maybe, that it was a good idea to have her checked out,” I replied, lowering myself into one of the chairs and dropping my head into my hands. “I didn’t think it would go that way.”
“How did you think it would go?” Chief Terry asked.
“I didn’t think Twila would say the word penile a million times.”
“I said it once,” Twila countered.
“You said it way more than once,” Mom fired back. “I’m telling you that she’s fine. There’s no reason to get worked up about things. She’s just … being Aunt Tillie.”
It was obvious she didn’t believe that.
“Mom.” I didn’t say anything else.
“Why do we think she’s senile?” Landon asked.
Twila opened her mouth, but Mom silenced her with a glare.
“If you say penile again, I’ll have you locked away,” Mom hissed.
“I wasn’t.” Twila looked to me for backup. “Tell her.”
“I don’t even know why you said it the first time,” I replied. “As for why I’m worried about Aunt Tillie, she’s acting loopier than normal. She swears she wasn’t at Clove’s place last night and yet she very obviously was.”
“Could Clove have gotten her mixed up with someone else?” Landon asked.
“She knows what Aunt Tillie looks like.”
“It was dark.”
“Okay, who else could it have been? Do you think random people are wandering out to the Dandridge to dance naked on the ship?”
“What about Margaret?” Chief Terry asked. “Maybe she did it as payback or something.”
“I’m not even sure Mrs. Little gets naked to shower. She seems afraid of nudity.”
“That’s true.” Chief Terry moved to the small liquor cart and poured himself a glass of wine. “What does she say?”
“She said she wasn’t there,” Mom replied. “As I told Twila and Bay—they’re the ones who caused this mess—Aunt Tillie lies. It’s part of who she is. She’s obviously lying about this.”
“And the four-wheeler?” I challenged. “She said she wasn’t on her four-wheeler today, but we all saw her.”
“Maybe she cast a spell to mess with you.” Mom wasn’t backing down. “I wouldn’t put that past her.”
I ran the idea through my head. “I guess that’s possible. Seems like a lot of work, though.”
“Less work than changing her outfit and what she’s riding every five minutes.”
I scratched my cheek. “That still doesn’t explain the Clove thing. If she was out there casting a spell, she would own it.”
“Not necessarily.” Mom shook her head. “If she’s doing something she knows we’ll be angry about—or could get us in trouble with Landon’s boss—she would keep that secret.”
“What sort of spell could she be casting? We just dug ourselves out of trouble with Mrs. Little. There was actually a moment when I thought we were in trouble because the magic sort of exploded. It was too big for Aunt Tillie to handle herself. I had to step in.”
“You didn’t tell me about that.” Mom pinned me with a dirty look. “What do you mean she couldn’t control it?”
I gave her a brief rundown of what happened at Mrs. Little’s house.
“Well, that sounds like she wasn’t prepared for how much magic it was going to take,” Mom said. “I mean…” She trailed off. She knew as well as I did that it was rare Aunt Tillie could not control her magic.
“Things get away from us,” I agreed, choosing my words carefully. “It happens. It was weird, though. When you add it together with the other stuff, I think maybe we should have her looked at.”
“What would happen if she was getting dementia?” Chief Terry asked. “Could you take her magic away?”
“ Shh ,” Mom, Twila, and I growled.
“Don’t ever let her hear you say that,” Mom warned. She was angry. I couldn’t blame her. “If she thinks that’s our plan, she’ll try to protect herself.”
“So there is a way,” Landon said. “You could strip her of her powers.”
“It would take a lot of magic,” I replied. “We would need Scout at the very least to help. We don’t know that we’re there yet. It’s possible she needs blood pressure meds or something. It’s not necessarily the worst-case scenario.”
Chief Terry nodded. “I agree with Bay.” He didn’t back down when Mom swiveled on him. “Winnie, we want what’s best for her. Maybe it is something simple like high blood pressure. Maybe she needs a Vitamin B infusion or something. We can’t know until we have her checked out.”
Mom’s shoulders slumped, and I knew we’d won. “I’ll call and see if I can get an appointment.”
“That’s all we ask.” Chief Terry put his wine on the table and pulled her into a hug. “It’s going to be okay. I know this is scary, but it’s better to be safe than sorry.”
“Just because I get her an appointment doesn’t mean she’ll go,” Mom argued. “She hates going to the doctor. She says they’re all quacks.”
“We’ll figure that part out,” I said. “For now, just get her the appointment. Maybe it is all an act. She might go back to being normal Aunt Tillie if she thinks this could blow up in her face. Then it won’t be necessary.”
Mom hesitated, then nodded. “I bet that’s what it is. She’s just messing with us.”
I wanted to believe that, but I couldn’t.
STEVE AND SPENCER ARRIVED TEN minutes later. Mom, Marnie, and Twila retreated to the kitchen to finish dinner—it was Italian night—leaving the rest of us to talk about the day’s events in the dining room.
“So, where do you think we should be looking?” Steve asked me, his eyes moving to the swinging doors when Aunt Tillie walked through them. “Hello.”
Aunt Tillie glared between faces. “Are you talking to me?”
Steve looked suddenly nervous. He had no idea what we’d been talking about before his arrival, but it was obvious Aunt Tillie was in a mood.
Given what we’d told him earlier in the day—how all of the stories he’d heard about her were likely true—he was clearly convinced she was a bomb about to go off.
“Yes.” He faked a bright smile anyway. “How are you today? Feeling okay?”
I cringed.
“Compared to what?” Aunt Tillie barked. She flopped in her chair at the end of the table, offering glares all around. “Let me guess, you’re the one who floated the idea about the men in white coats.”
I cleared my throat and leaned forward. “He’s just trying to be nice. He had nothing to do with our earlier conversation.”
“Definitely not,” Steve agreed. “If you’re mad, I had nothing to do with it.”
“What do you mean by mad?”
“He doesn’t mean crazy,” I said hurriedly. “He means angry.”
“He can talk for himself.” Aunt Tillie shot me a quelling look. “I’m not talking to you. You’re on my list.”
Landon opened his mouth, but Aunt Tillie silenced him with her darkest glare.
“She won’t smell like bacon by the time I’m done with her,” Aunt Tillie warned him. “I’m not making you happy. You’re the reason I’m in this mess.”
“What did I do?” Landon challenged.
“She was much more malleable before you came into the picture. I could bully her … and I enjoyed it. You gave her more self-confidence. I hate you on principle alone.”
Landon didn’t back down, although he should have. “Bay always had self-confidence. It wavered from time to time—you’re not the only bully in this family—but I didn’t do anything but love her.”
“Aw,” Spencer teased. “That was sweet.”
“Don’t think that because I don’t know you that I won’t put you on my list,” Aunt Tillie threatened. “Watch yourself, Rover.”
Spencer swallowed hard. The Rover comment was pointed. He was a shifter—something Steve knew—but it was obvious he didn’t want to be the center of conversation this evening. Aunt Tillie’s mood was going to ruin things for everybody.
“I think we got off on the wrong foot,” Steve said. “You seem … agitated. Is there something I can do to help?”
“Look at that.” Aunt Tillie gave him a derisive gesture. “He’s walking on eggshells around me because he thinks I’m crazy.”
“He’s walking on eggshells because he’s afraid of what you’ll do,” I countered. “Stop being horrible. Nobody was plotting against you.”
“You told me you were plotting against me!”
“We did not.” I was worried something was wrong with her, but I wasn’t going to let her go full tyrant. “We simply said a trip to the doctor wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world.”
“Are you feeling achy?” Steve asked, his voice dripping with sincerity. His fear of her was real. He didn’t realize that you could only approach Aunt Tillie from a place of aggression when she got in a mood like this. “Arthritis?”
I sank lower in my chair, my stomach threatening to revolt. The food wasn’t even out yet, and I’d lost my appetite.
“Arthritis?” Aunt Tillie made a face as if he’d suggested she ate cats. “Arthritis is for old people.”
“Well…” Steve shifted on his chair.
“I’m middle aged,” Aunt Tillie barked.
When Steve looked to me for help, I couldn’t meet his panicked eyes. “Just ignore her,” I suggested.
“Yes, ignore me,” Aunt Tillie agreed darkly. “That always ends well.”
“Breadsticks,” Twila announced as she swept into the room with a huge basket that reeked of garlic.
“Those smell great.” Steve beamed at her, seemingly happy about having someone else to focus on. “I will say, the food in this place is amazing. I guess I know why you’ve put on those extra ten pounds, Landon.”
Next to me, Landon froze in mid-reach for the basket. “What?” he sputtered.
“It’s not a big thing.” Steve laughed. “Before you met Bay you spent half your time in the gym. I’m guessing you prefer spending your time with her—and this amazing food—now.”
Landon looked down at his middle and dropped his hand. “I haven’t gained ten pounds.” It wasn’t a question but he looked at me for an answer.
“Of course not,” was my automatic response.
He relaxed, if only marginally.
“Yes, because eating ten slices of bacon every morning couldn’t possibly make you gain weight,” Chief Terry said.
Landon’s glare could’ve shredded glass. “I don’t eat that much bacon.”
I snorted, then covered my mouth. “Sorry. Allergies.”
Landon’s glare grew more pronounced, which shouldn’t have been possible. “I’m not fat.”