13. Thirteen #2
“Of course you’re not,” Mom said as she appeared with a big platter of spaghetti. “You’re just my best customer.” She beamed at Landon.
I had to press my lips together to keep from laughing at Landon’s outraged expression.
“I work out,” Landon argued.
“When?” Chief Terry challenged. “And where? It’s not as if there’s a gym here. I’ve tried talking Winnie into turning the storage room into a gym. She says she needs that space for holiday decorations.”
“I work out,” Landon insisted. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
“How did this become my fault?” I challenged. “I told you I wanted you to cut down on the bacon.”
“You said that was for my heart.” His tone was accusatory, and his hand went to his stomach to pinch. “I have abs,” he said, even though nobody cared. “They’re defined.”
“They are,” I agreed. I could have let it go. No, I should have let it go. “You used to have eight of them. Now you have four and a half.”
On my other side, Chief Terry hung his head. “Why did you have to go there?”
“He’s my husband. I have to tell him the truth.”
Landon whipped out his phone.
“What are you doing?” I asked him.
“I’m checking the rates for the gym downtown.”
“Ah, Witches and Weight Benches.” I smirked. “Are you going to buy a membership.”
“Go ahead and be a smart ass.” Landon shook his head. “They have a deal for couples.”
“Um … I don’t have a four-and-a-half pack.”
“We’re joining as a couple.” Landon was firm. “It will be a bonding exercise.”
I glared at my mother as she sat across from me. “This is your fault. If you would just cut down on the bacon?—”
“It’s not my fault you married a glutton,” Mom shot back.
“I’m not a glutton!” Landon almost sounded panicked now. “They have those apps to track calories, right?”
“You’re still in great shape,” I assured him. “Don’t get worked up.”
“I’m not worked up.” His shrill tone told me otherwise.
“Let’s talk about Aunt Tillie being crazy,” I suggested. We’d gone this far, why not fall completely off the rails?
“Oh, you’re definitely on my list,” Aunt Tillie growled. “You’re so high on the list I’m going to need a stepladder to read it.”
“Whatever.” I was beyond caring. “You should let Mom take you to the doctor.”
“I’m not senile!”
“It’s better than being penile,” Twila offered.
Marnie, who was bringing the last of the food out, froze near the edge of the table. “Do I even want to know what you’re talking about?”
“Aunt Tillie is crazy,” I volunteered.
“And Landon has a four-pack instead of an eight-pack,” Twila said.
Marnie put the big bowl of pasta sauce down. “I see.”
“I’m not crazy,” Aunt Tillie insisted. “I wasn’t at Clove’s house last night.”
“And you weren’t driving around downtown flipping people off this afternoon?” I challenged.
“I was on the scooter,” Aunt Tillie replied. “I wasn’t on my four-wheeler.” She straightened. “Maybe you’re the crazy one. You’re seeing things that didn’t happen.”
“We saw you on the four-wheeler,” Steve said, offering me a reassuring smile. Did he think he was helping? “You looked quite fetching with your purple cape.”
“Red,” Aunt Tillie barked. “I was wearing a red cape.”
“On the scooter, yes. On the four-wheeler, the cape was purple.”
“I don’t even wear my purple cape,” Aunt Tillie snapped. “I don’t like the way it falls around my shoulders. It makes me look like a nun, not a superhero.”
Steve’s expression was blank. “I really don’t know what to say. I think I’m just going to eat.”
Yes, if only he’d made that decision ten stupid sentences ago. “Aunt Tillie, nobody is trying to make you feel bad or hurt you.” I was selective when choosing my words. “It’s the exact opposite. We want to make sure you’re okay.”
“Who is the one who would know I’m okay?” Aunt Tillie demanded. “Me! That’s who!” She thumped her chest for emphasis. “I’m perfectly fine. I have no idea why you think otherwise.”
“Because you seem to be forgetting the things you do,” I replied. “We’re concerned.”
“I’m not forgetting anything.”
“Except riding your four-wheeler and dancing naked on Clove’s ship,” Landon muttered. He was still pinching his stomach. “I don’t have a four-and-a-half-pack, Bay. It’s a sold seven-pack.”
Really? “I was mistaken.” I absently patted his shoulder. “You’re just as lean and mean as when we met.”
“I thought you weren’t going to lie to your husband,” Mom chided.
“Mother, drop it,” I warned.
“You’re the one who said you weren’t going to lie to him.”
“I’m not forgetting things,” Aunt Tillie argued. “I’m just as sharp as I’ve always been.” Her eyes were slits when she focused on me. “You’re on my list hardcore, young lady. You’re never going to forget being on this list.”
“Maybe it’s Millie,” I offered. “Maybe she’s running around town doing things that you don’t remember.”
“Like a second personality?” Steve looked intrigued. “Is that possible?”
“No,” Aunt Tillie replied. “I’m not senile.”
Twila’s mouth opened again, but Marnie shoved a breadstick in her mouth to silence her.
“You know what, I don’t have to take this abuse.” Aunt Tillie hopped to her feet. “I hate all of you. I am not crazy.”
She stormed toward the door and shoved it open.
“What about dinner?” Mom called to her back.
“Yes, it can’t help with the senility to skip meals,” I added.
Mom set fire to me with her laser gaze. “You’re not helping.”
“Kind of like you didn’t help me with Landon, huh?”
“I signed us up for the gym, Bay,” Landon announced. “First workout is tomorrow at seven in the morning. We have to be up at six. Be prepared.”
I sank into my chair. This day just kept getting worse and worse.