wicked witches 07.5 - christmas witch by Amanda M. Lee

won’t let them take you without a fight.”
     
    THE woman sitting behind the front desk looked as though she wanted to be anywhere but where she was. I didn’t blame her. Tomorrow was Christmas Eve. She probably watched the clock, counting down to when she could start her holiday break. Hopefully that would work to my advantage.
    The receptionist shifted her head in my direction when she heard the door shut, wrinkling her nose as she looked me up and down. She was obviously thrown by the appearance of children.
    “Are you lost?”
    I bit my tongue in an effort to hold in the nasty retort I wanted to lob in her direction. “I don’t think so,” I replied, forcing a pleasant smile. “We’re … looking for a friend.”
    “I see,” the woman said. The nameplate on her desk read “Evelyn,” although her platinum blond hair made her look more like a Tiffany. I probably shouldn’t judge her before I talk to her more. Oh, fudge on a stick, who cares about that? I’ll bet she’s as dumb as she looks. “And who are you looking for?”
    “I’m looking for my son,” I said, the lie easily rolling off of my tongue. “His name is Bernard Hill. I was told he was here. That’s a relief, because I’ve been looking for him for days. I have a weak heart, so it could give out at any time. Knowing where my son is before Christmas will help calm me.”
    Bay cast me a sidelong look. I couldn’t tell whether she was impressed with the lie, but she wisely kept her mouth shut.
    “You’re Bernard Hill’s mother?” Evelyn wrinkled her nose again as she checked her intake records. “He looks too old to be your son.”
    “It’s the crazy,” I said. “It makes him appear older.”
    “The crazy?”
    What? I’m sure that’s a real thing. “Can I see my son?”
    Evelyn glanced at the girls, her expression unreadable. “You want to take them into the back to see Mr. Hill? May I ask why?”
    I wanted to tell her it was none of her business, but I wisely kept that sentence to myself. “He’s their … uncle.” Wait … did the math add up for that?
    “He’s our godfather,” Bay corrected, catching me off guard. “The only thing we want for Christmas is to see him, and our grandmother agreed to bring us because she doesn’t want our Christmas to be ruined.”
    I wanted to smack her, but because hers was a better lie than the one I came up with, I let it slide. “Yeah, what she said.”
    “Bernard is your godfather?” Evelyn brightened. “That’s so nice. Are you guys close?”
    “We’re closer than close,” Bay replied. “That’s why our Christmas will be ruined if we don’t get to see him.”
    “We’ve been crying for days,” Clove interjected. “We had no idea where he was. He wanted all of this to be a secret.”
    “We want him to know that it’s okay that he’s … sick,” Thistle added. “We don’t want him to be sad or afraid to tell us.”
    “That is the sweetest thing I’ve ever heard,” Evelyn said, her hand landing in the spot above her heart. “This is the time of year for all things good to happen. You girls are angels.”
    “That’s what everyone keeps telling us,” Bay said, shooting me a look. “Can we see him?”
    “I don’t know,” Evelyn hedged. “He’s … kind of in a rough spot right now.”
    “That’s okay,” I said. “We’re used to crazy. We like it.”
    “We don’t really use that word here,” Evelyn chided.
    “Oh, I’m hip,” I said. “I’m cool calling him insane.”
    Evelyn frowned.
    Bay, as if sensing the situation about to slip away, stepped in front of me. “You should understand that our grandmother doesn’t always think before she speaks,” she said. “She doesn’t mean anything by it. We’ve all been really worried about … Bernard.”
    Evelyn’s smile was sympathetic. “We’re really not supposed to let anyone back in the treatment rooms, but you guys came a long way and … well … it is Christmas.”
    “It is,” I