4 Witching On A Star by Amanda M. Lee Page B

though.”
    “That doesn’t mean we’re fighting,” I said wearily. “Maybe we’re just tired.”
    “That never stopped you before,” Aunt Tillie pointed out. “Sometimes you even fight in your sleep.”
    She had a point. Not about the fighting in our sleep thing – that was a gross exaggeration – but about the other stuff.
    “I met a new man today and Bay and Thistle don’t like him,” Clove announced boldly, shooting daggers in our direction as she did.
    “We didn’t say we don’t like him,” I protested weakly.
    “We just said we’re suspicious of him,” Thistle added.
    “Why don’t you like him?” Aunt Tillie was suddenly interested.
    “He’s just a little off,” I replied.
    “I am not going to sit here and listen to the two of you malign his character,” Clove sniffed angrily. “You don’t need me for that.” With those words, she flounced through the door that led to the kitchen, leaving Thistle and me to tell Aunt Tillie our problems.
    Not surprisingly, Thistle was the one to launch the verbal offensive. When she was done, Aunt Tillie was flabbergasted. “Brian told him I have dementia?”
    “That’s what you’re worried about?” Thistle asked dubiously. “Not that this guy just might see ghosts and that he’s questioning us about the witchy history of this area? The real witchy history?”
    “I don’t have dementia,” Aunt Tillie replied angrily. “That Brian Kelly is going to wish I did have dementia by the time I’m done with him.”
    I thought about trying to talk her out of whatever revenge was boiling in her brain at the moment, but I couldn’t muster the energy. Besides, I wasn’t thrilled with Brian myself, at this point. Maybe cursing him would make him see reason – and send Sam Cornell out of town. Hey, a girl can hope.
    We left Aunt Tillie to plot her revenge. I realized we hadn’t asked her for a curse to thwart Clove’s romantic aspirations towards Sam. I was hoping it wouldn’t ultimately be necessary, I guess. Plus, teaming up with Aunt Tillie against Clove seemed like a step backwards. We had always been a three-pronged united front against her. Breaking up into a smaller faction and working with her just seemed wrong.
    Once I stepped in the kitchen, I heard Clove complaining to her mother that Thistle and I were being mean to her.
    “They treat me like I’m a child. I’m not even the youngest one. Thistle is the youngest one. She should be the one treated like a child.”
    Marnie didn’t look impressed with Clove’s complaints. “Can’t you three just get along? You don’t see your aunts and I squabbling like this.”
    Thistle rolled her eyes. “Not today. Give it time, though.”
    “Thanks for your input, fresh mouth,” my mom smacked Thistle on the back of the head lightly as she moved behind her. “You guys just seem to enjoy fighting with one another.”
    “I wonder where we learned that from,” I teased my mother.
    “We don’t fight,” my mother disagreed.
    “Really? Maybe I should invite Chief Terry for dinner so you guys can play musical chairs to see who gets to sit next to him?”
    “That’s not a fight,” Twila chimed in from her place by the sink.
    “Of course it’s not,” my mom agreed. “I’ve already won.”
    “You have not, Winnie,” Marnie said snidely. “As long as I have these,” she grabbed her heaving – and yes, impressive – bosom with both hands. “You’re not even in the running.”
    My mom glanced down at her much smaller chest ruefully. “Terry is a man of substance,” she said finally. “He’s not mesmerized by your boobs like everyone else in town.”
    “I guess that’s why you spent an entire year doing exercises to grow yours when we were kids,” Marnie replied snottily. “I must, I must, I must increase my bust,” she sang.
    Twila laughed heartily. “That was so absurd.”
    “You did it for two years,” Marnie reminded her.
    Since Twila had the smallest amount of cleavage to