Prelude to a Witch, Amanda Lee [ebook reader web txt] 📗

“I’m a total gentleman,” Landon countered as he held the dining room door for Hannah and me. “See. Would someone who wasn’t a gentleman do that?”

I smirked as I shook my head and followed Hannah into the dining room. Everyone else was already seated and waiting.

“You’re late,” Mom snapped as she slid a platter of pot roast and potatoes toward the center of the table.

“Ooh, yum.” Landon danced around me and took his regular seat next to Aunt Tillie. “I love pot roast night.”

Mom shot him a fond smile. “I cooked with you in mind this evening.”

“And that’s why you’re going to be the best mother-in-law ever.”

Before I could sit, Hannah took my usual chair, settling between Landon and Chief Terry. “It smells good,” she said.

I stood where I was, rooted to my spot, and stared at the back of her head.

“What’s happening?” Thistle asked from the far end of the table. “Who is that chick sitting in Bay’s spot?”

Hannah glanced around the table, her cheeks coloring when she realized Thistle was talking about her. “I’m so sorry.” She immediately got to her feet. “I should’ve realized that was your spot.”

Landon already had a dinner roll stuffed in his mouth as he glanced between us.

“It’s fine,” I reassured her. “It’s not a big deal. We just ... eat together a lot.”

“And have regular seats,” Hannah said. “I get it. Am I okay sitting on the other side of ... this fine gentleman?” She shot Chief Terry a bright smile.

“Of course,” I replied. “If you want to sit here ... .” I trailed off and helplessly gestured at my normal chair.

“No, that’s not necessary,” she said. “I’m fine here.” She smiled again for Chief Terry’s benefit. “Everything looks lovely.”

“There’s nothing better than pot roast,” Thistle agreed. “Who the heck are you?”

It was only then that I realized I hadn’t made introductions. “I’m sorry, this is Hannah Waters. She’s an FBI profiler from Chicago and she will be in Hemlock Cove working on the Paisley Gilmore case with Landon and Chief Terry. I put her in the third-floor room you had earmarked for her in the computer, by the way.”

Mom nodded. “I’m sorry you had to do that. I thought Twila was at the desk.” She shot her flame-haired sister a pointed look. “Which begs the question, if you weren’t handling the front desk like you said you would, what were you doing?”

Twila was the picture of innocence. “What do you mean? I was in the lobby.”

“Bay just said she had to check in the FBI agent.”

“Hannah,” I corrected.

“Hannah.” Mom gave a smile that didn’t make it all the way to her eyes. “What were you doing, Twila?”

“Yes, what were you doing that was so important you couldn’t help with dinner?” Marnie drawled.

Sensing trouble, I cleared my throat to shut up my mother and aunts and then focused on Hannah. “I should probably do introductions.” I introduced everyone around the table. She lingered on Clove for a moment, seemingly entranced by her huge belly, and then focused on Chief Terry.

“You have a good reputation in law enforcement circles,” Hannah offered. “I didn’t know that you lived here. I guess I was ... misinformed.”

“I don’t live here,” Chief Terry said, shifting on his chair. “I just ... .”

“He shacks up with my niece,” Aunt Tillie blurted, ignoring the death glare my mother beamed at her. “He has a house, but given the hours Winnie works, he’s almost always here. Plus, the food is better here, and he’s motivated by his tastebuds and libido more than anything else.”

“Well, that’s nice.” Hannah added one slab of meat, one potato and four carrots to her plate from the roast platter. “Do you eat together often?”

She was digging. As a profiler, she wanted to break things down so she could wrap her mind around our family dynamics. I understood her curiosity, but I didn’t want her digging too deep. “Landon and I eat about ten meals here a week,” I replied. “Clove and Thistle don’t live on the family property, so they eat here three or four times a week.”

“Still, that’s a lot for adults,” Hannah said. “And ten times a week?” Her eyebrows migrated up her forehead. “That’s ... a lot.”

Landon didn’t appear bothered about being psychoanalyzed. “It’s really not,” he said. “We don’t cook.”

“He means Bay doesn’t cook,” Thistle sniped.

“I mean that we don’t cook,” Landon shot back. He had a heaping mound of food on his plate and seemed to be over the awkwardness. “We don’t need to. Winnie is the best cook in the world and we can walk here in five minutes. Why would we cook under those circumstances?”

“Well, the ease of the meals is definitely a consideration, but it points toward a co-dependent family dynamic,” Hannah said. “I’m not judging you. I simply find it interesting.”

Landon rolled his eyes. “Please. You’re trying to shrink us because that’s what you do. Let me save you some time, okay? We’re definitely codependent. That’s not just Bay and her mother. That’s Bay and me ... and Bay and Chief Terry ... and Bay and Thistle.”

Now it was my turn to frown. “I think you’ve said enough.”

“Yeah, you’ve said that Bay is codependent with everyone in her life,” Thistle agreed. “And, for the record, Bay and I are not codependent.”

Landon shot Thistle a quelling look. “That came out wrong. What I meant to say is that we’re all codependent. Bay isn’t the only one. I’m just as codependent as everybody else.”

“I don’t think I understand what’s going on here,” Twila said in a stage whisper as she leaned closer to Marnie.

“That’s not unusual,” Marnie said.

“It’s not that difficult to understand,” Aunt Tillie insisted. “The FBI called in a profiler, like on television. That’s her.” She waved her fork at Hannah. “What makes everything so weird is that the new profiler used to let this one give her an extra side