wicked witches 07.5 - christmas witch by Amanda M. Lee Read Free Book Online Page A

that no matter what, you’re going to have a great Christmas.”
    “I hope so,” Bay said, dropping a quick kiss on Terry’s cheek. “The rest of this year has sucked.”
    I watched her walk out of the house in search of her cousins, cringing as Terry moved up behind me.
    “Don’t bring them with you when you break and enter again,” he warned. “If this place belonged to someone other than the town drunk you’d be in a world of hurt. This is the type of stuff that makes the newspaper.”
    I snorted. “The Whistler is a weekly newspaper and you know darned well William wouldn’t dare print a story about this.”
    “That’s neither here nor there,” Terry said. “I know you’re trying to help in your own way. I know you’re just as desperate to give them a good Christmas as everyone else. This is not the way to do it, though.”
    “Oh, they’re getting the Christmas of their dreams – except for the puppy,” I replied.
    “And how are you going to do that? Bernard is missing. I don’t think we’ll find him before the town party. How are you going to fix Christmas?”
    I patted Terry’s cheek, and then pinched it for good measure just because I could. “I’m Tillie Winchester. I can do whatever I want.”
     
    “WHAT do you guys want to eat and drink?” I asked, scanning the menu at Gunderson’s Bakery twenty minutes later. “Hot chocolate and chocolate doughnuts?”
    “With sprinkles,” Thistle said.
    “I didn’t forget the sprinkles, Thistle,” I snapped. “Do I look like the type of person who forgets the sprinkles?”
    “Hey, we just lied to a cop for you so be nice to us,” Clove said.
    “Your performance was wonderful,” I said, grinning. “That lip thing you do isn’t going to last forever, but it’s a great weapon right now.”
    “I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Clove said primly, placing her hands on top of the round dinette table the girls perched around. “I forgot what happened. I’m little. I can’t remember everything.”
    “Well, at least you’ve learned a few of the lessons I’ve tried to teach you,” I said. “I thought for sure you’d be the one to crumble.”
    “Since I didn’t, can I have two doughnuts?”
    “If she gets two doughnuts, I want two doughnuts,” Thistle said.
    “You’re both getting one doughnut,” I countered. “You’ll be up all night from the sugar high if I get you two.”
    “You really are the worst babysitter ever,” Thistle groused.
    Bay was silent in her chair, her expression distant. I snapped my fingers close to her ear to get her attention.
    “What?”
    “Do you want a chocolate doughnut with sprinkles, too?”
    “I don’t need a doughnut,” Bay replied, sighing dramatically and lowering her chin to her forearms on top of the table. “Who can think about doughnuts when Christmas is going to be ruined?”
    Sometimes I think these kids are missing their calling. They should all be actors … or circus folk.
    “Have you decided?” Ginny Gunderson stepped out of the back of the bakery, fixing me with a tight smile. We have a long history. It wasn’t always a happy history, but we put on a good show in front of others so they won’t be suspicious.
    “Yeah,” I said, matching her uncomfortable smile with one of my own. “I need four hot chocolates and four cake doughnuts with chocolate frosting and sprinkles.”
    Ginny smiled, her gaze moving beyond me and landing on the girls. She’d never had children of her own. Unlike me, I think she was saddened by that outcome. Even though Winnie, Marnie and Twila aren’t my daughters, they feel like it. And even though Bay, Clove and Thistle aren’t my granddaughters, they are close enough. I didn’t always feel lucky in that respect, but there are times I thank the stars above because I have them to focus on – and torment.
    “I’ll bring the hot chocolate and doughnuts over in just a minute,” Ginny said. “I’ll warm the doughnuts up in the