Page 87 of Last Witch Attempt
Landon opened his mouth—I’m sure to argue—but then stopped himself. “You’re right. I’m sorry.”
“Thank you.”
“Once this is over, we’ll have a serious talk aboutournew eating habits.”
“Our?” I raised an eyebrow. “Why am I being forced onto a diet?”
“It’s not a diet.” The word clearly rankled Landon. “It’s a lifestyle choice.”
“I’m happy with my lifestyle choices. I don’t overdo it.”
“Tell me that again with a straight face the next time there’s wine on the bluff.”
“Stop poking me,” I warned. My gaze went to the swinging door as Marnie and Twila emerged with the bread and soup. My mouth watered when I realized they cooked corn chowder, my favorite. “It smells amazing.”
“How many calories?” Landon asked.
Marnie’s eyebrows hopped, as if he’d grown a second head. “What?”
“Ignore him,” I replied, waving a hand. “He’ll eat it, and he’ll like it.” I added the next part under my breath. “And he’ll shut up about it.”
Landon shifted on his chair. “I heard that.”
The swinging door opened to allow Aunt Tillie entrance. She was dressed in camouflage pants, a black T-shirt, and wearing a pink combat helmet.
“I didn’t know you were joining us,” I blurted.
She gave me a dirty look. “Since when don’t I have lunch at the inn?”
“She was trying to escape when I caught her,” Mom offered as she sat across from me. “I told her there would be grave consequences if she didn’t take a break and join the family for a meal.”
“And that worked?” Chief Terry’s tone was dry. “I guess I know what to say to her next time she drives that four-wheeler on the sidewalk downtown.”
“And you know exactly how I’ll respond.” Aunt Tillie shot him a menacing smile before sitting in Marnie’s usual chair.
Marnie was flummoxed when she realized she couldn’t sit next to Mom. “What are you doing?” she demanded.
“You insisted I be here for lunch,” Aunt Tillie replied. “There are other things I prefer to do. Yet here I am.”
“But … that’s my chair?”
Aunt Tillie shrugged. “I see other chairs at the table.”
“But…” Marnie blinked. We were creatures of habit. When something threw us off course, it took a lot of effort to compensate.
“Just sit in her chair,” Mom ordered. “She’s obviously decided to be difficult today.”
Aunt Tillie shot Mom a dark sidelong look. “I can be a lot more difficult,” she warned.
Mom ignored her and started ladling soup. “What did you learn?”
I caught her up. “So that’s where we’re at,” I said. “She’s out there and she’s angry.”
“You think the construction crew killed her sister?” Mom looked puzzled. “Why would they do that?”
“I’m guessing the naiads decided to investigate the crew and things got heated when they realized their personal utopia was about to be torn up to create a resort,” I replied. “A fight broke out, the construction crew realized they weren’t dealing with normal human women, and they killed the naiad. Then they covered it up because they either didn’t think anyone would believe them or they simply panicked in the face of what they did.”
“I’m confused. Are we treating them as victims or murderers?” Stormy asked.
