Witchdependence Day: A Wicked Witches of the Midwest Short (Wicked Witches of the Midwest Shorts Book 8) Read Online Free PDF Page A

“Perhaps I’m not a pervert. You probably think that because your mind is clouded with dirty thoughts.”
    “No, you’re a pervert,” Aunt Tillie shot back, unruffled. “How long until the food is ready? I’m starving. There are such things as elder abuse. You know that, right? I could report you.”
    “We haven’t even started grilling yet,” Twila said. “Dinner is at least a half hour away.”
    “Well, work faster,” Aunt Tillie said. “If I don’t eat soon my blood pressure will bottom out and then I’ll go into hypoglycemic shock. You know what that means.”
    I had no idea what that meant, but was understandably curious. “What does it mean?”
    “Oh, no,” Thistle, Bay and Clove groaned in unison.
    “Why did you ask her that?” Thistle asked, exasperated.
    “I want to know if she’s sick,” I replied. “That hypoglycemic shock thing sounds serious.”
    “It is serious,” Aunt Tillie said, nodding. “It can make a mind wander.”
    Well, that was a frightening thought. If Aunt Tillie’s mind wandered any further it might not find its way back home.
    “She’s not sick,” Thistle said. “This is like when she claimed she had glaucoma.”
    “I do have glaucoma,” Aunt Tillie sniffed. “It’s situational glaucoma. That means it comes and goes and I have no control over it. That’s why I need my … herb garden.”
    “Keep it up,” Landon warned, wagging a finger. “I’m going to burn that herb garden to the ground.”
    “And your oxygen allergy?” Bay prodded. “Whatever happened to that?”
    Aunt Tillie squinted as she regarded her great-niece. “It comes and it goes … much like my glaucoma and your intelligence.”
    “All right, leave my Bay alone,” Landon ordered, slipping his arm around Bay’s waist. “I don’t like it when you’re mean to her.”
    “I do,” Thistle said, earning a pinch on the wrist from Clove and a scowl from Bay. “What? Bay is being a pain. She won’t let me turn Clove’s old room into a craft room, and she’s irritating me.”
    “You’re irritating me,” Bay shot back.
    “You’re both irritating me,” Winnie said. “Who else is irritated by this never-ending argument between Bay and Thistle?”
    I raised my hand before I ascertained the intelligence associated with the gesture.
    “Really?” Thistle raised her eyebrows. “I can’t believe you’re turning on me after I planned a romantic night for us and everything.”
    “I’m not turning on you,” I countered. “I’m just sick of hearing about the room.”
    “I think you should leave the room as it is,” Clove said. “I think it looks pretty.”
    “Oh, puh-leez,” Thistle said. “You want us to put a photograph of you in there so we can go in and worship your memory on a daily basis. You want that room to be a shrine. We’re not wasting that space, so get over it.”
    “You get over it,” Clove shot back.
    “Can we all just get over it?” Marnie asked, her eyes flashing. “Good grief. Why does everything turn into an argument when we’re all together?”
    “I think it has a little something to do with your attitude,” Aunt Tillie replied, reaching for another cookie and earning a whack on the hand from Winnie.
    “If you try stealing one more cookie I’ll make you eat the sheet we baked them on,” Winnie warned.
    “I think the whole family has PMS,” Thistle announced. “That’s the only explanation. It’s probably situational, much like Aunt Tillie’s glaucoma.”
    Landon groaned and covered his eyes. “Stop saying things like that. I’m going to have nightmares.”
    Despite the imminent Winchester meltdown – and it was imminent, make no mistake – I felt happy. This was a true family. This was true love. This was how a lazy summer night was supposed to be spent.
    “Aunt Tillie, next time Landon ticks you off I think you should curse him with a never-ending supply of tampons,” Thistle announced, earning odd stares from a few random festival