wicked witches 06.9 - you only witch once by lee amanda m

Author:lee, amanda m [lee, amanda m]
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Publisher: WinchesterShaw Publications
Published: 2015-09-07T22:00:00+00:00

“OKAY guys, no ghost stories tonight,” I said, distributing marshmallows, graham crackers and chocolate to the assembled kids. “We’re going to make some s'mores, have a few laughs and then we’re going to bed.”

“There will be no screaming and panicking tonight,” Marnie warned.

Terry lifted an eyebrow in my direction as he took his chocolate bar. “Screaming?”

“It seems someone scratched on the window at the first cabin and the girls thought it was a china doll trying to scratch their eyes out last night,” I said. “Since the doll from the story resembled a certain someone, she was attacked.”

Terry fought the urge to smile. “I see. Who scratched the window?”

I shot a pointed look at Aunt Tillie, who steadfastly ignored me and directed Thistle to roast marshmallows for her. “We’re not sure,” I lied.

Terry chuckled. “I had a feeling that was going to happen,” he said. “How many times were they up last night?”

“Five.”

“I’m glad I have boys,” Terry said. “Other than a nervous trip across the lake in canoes, my kids passed out right away.”

“You only have twelve of them, too,” I pointed out.

“Have you ever considered I’m just better at corralling the mayhem?”

He was trying to be cute. “No,” I said.

“I don’t get what we’re supposed to be doing.” One of the boys, a blue-eyed teenager with black hair and an impish grin, focused on me. “Are we building little marshmallow sandwiches here?”

“Haven’t you ever had a s’more?”

“I’m from the city, lady,” the boy said. “Our sandwiches have meat and mayonnaise on them – like they’re supposed to.”

Boys were a mystery to me. Our family had always been made up of girls. Sure, we dated and married men, but our offspring were always of the female persuasion. I was used to the highs – and lows – of raising a petulant girl. A mouthy boy was a whole other animal.

“Do you like chocolate?”

The boy nodded.

“Do you like marshmallows?”

Another nod.

“Do you like graham crackers?”

The boy rolled his eyes and sighed. “I see where you’re going with this,” he said. “You’re saying if I like those three things separately, I should like them together.”

“You’re a smart kid,” I said, smiling.

“Hold that thought,” the boy said. “I also like tomato soup, bacon and cola. Those things aren’t going to taste good together.”

He had a point. Crap. “Eat your s’more.”

“You don’t have a lot of patience, do you?”

Terry’s shoulders shook with silent laughter as he watched us interact.

“I happen to think I have a great deal of patience,” I said. “It’s just that smart-mouthed kids give me a headache.”

“Then you must live in constant pain,” the boy said. “You’re surrounded by smart-mouthed people.”

“Eat your s’more.” I left Terry to his wards – and his silent laughter – and made my way to the other side of the bonfire, where I could watch all the kids without straining my neck.

A glance at Bay, Clove and Thistle told me they were enjoying themselves. They took turns putting s’mores together for Aunt Tillie, and even though they were isolated in their own little world, the four of them seemed to be having a great time.

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