wicked witches 06.9 - you only witch once Read Free Page A

said. “I was going to tell you last week, and then Donna went missing. Everyone was so worried about her that everything else fell by the wayside. Then, when we decided to run the camp ourselves, it got lost in all the stuff we had to prepare.”
    “You should have sent her away,” Aunt Tillie said.
    “We couldn’t do that,” I said. “It’s an open camp. We can’t single out one child and ban her.”
    “I could have,” Aunt Tillie said.
    “We know,” Marnie said. “That’s why we’ve decided that you’re the one who gets to … deal … with Rosemary and Lila if they get out of hand.”
    Aunt Tillie arched an eyebrow. “Lila?”
    “Apparently Rosemary and Lila have hit it off,” I said, choosing my words carefully. “It seems they may have found something they like about one another.”
    “I’m guessing it’s bitchiness,” Aunt Tillie muttered.
    I tilted my head to the side, sending her a mental admonishment. I knew she couldn’t read my mind, but I hoped she could read my expression. It didn’t work.
    “I’d be glad to take over the punishment of Lila and Rosemary,” Aunt Tillie said. “Leave it to me.”
    I grabbed her arm. “We didn’t say you could punish them,” I said. “We want you to watch them, and if they get out of hand you can report back to us. We’ll deal with it.”
    “Sure.”
    Aunt Tillie was never this easy. “Sure?”
    “I’d be happy to watch over the little … darlings. I can’t tell you how happy this makes me. It gives an old woman purpose in the face of her dwindling years. Now I can go to my deathbed knowing that my true purpose in life was to act as babysitter and snitch at summer camp.”
    Sarcasm is a family trait, and the Winchester witches have it in surplus. Instead of calling Aunt Tillie on her dramatic retelling of the facts, though, I opted to ignore it. “I’m glad you understand. Thank you so very much.”
    Marnie snickered. “This is going to be a great couple of days,” she said. “I can feel it in my bones.”
    “We should really get lunch moving,” Twila said. “What time is Terry bringing the boys over?”
    Crap! That was another thing I’d forgotten about.
    Detective Terry Davenport was an old friend from high school. He was older than us by a few years, but he’d been an invaluable confidant as we traversed adulthood. He’d taken a position at the Hemlock Cove Police Department right after graduating from the police academy in Traverse City, and he’d been working his way up the ranks.
    Because he was a good man, Terry donated his time with various children’s groups. He was the one who initially reopened the campground from our childhood, bringing groups of boys from southern urban areas up for hiking, fishing and swimming weekends. He said city kids deserved a chance to enjoy the country, too.
    Once Donna Wilder took over the girls’ cabins, the two camps – separated by a small lake – ran in conjunction. While day-to-day activities were mostly separate, meals were served together to save on food bills and work hours.
    “I can’t believe I forgot Terry was bringing the boys over,” I said. “He said he would be here around one. What time is it now?”
    Marnie glanced at her watch. “He should be here in a half hour. That means we need to get the potato salad, buns and condiments ready. We should also round up the girls and get them out of the cabins. They’ve been in there since they arrived. What do you think they’re doing?”
    “Plotting the downfall of mankind,” Aunt Tillie said, grabbing a radish from the vegetable tray Twila unwrapped.
    “Oh, good,” I deadpanned. “You’ll fit right in. It’s your job to get the girls out here. Count them. Make sure we don’t lose any.”
    Aunt Tillie jumped to her feet and clicked her heels together, mock saluting as she sent me a saucy wink. “Yes, ma’am.”
    I bit my lip to keep my temper in check. Sometimes it feels as if there are four children in the house.