Page 57 of Last Witch Attempt
“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.”
