Prelude to a Witch by Amanda Lee (best motivational books for students TXT) 📗

“It’s a hole,” Aunt Tillie insisted. “There’s garbage everywhere.”

“That’s why we’re here,” I reminded her, grabbing the rake. “In exactly one week, construction workers are coming to demolish the old buildings. I promised Landon I would get as much of the trash out of here as possible before they come.”

“I thought you guys couldn’t afford to build a house for at least a year,” Thistle argued as she begrudgingly used a stick to spear garbage and bag it. “Why are you tearing the buildings down now if you can’t even start building?”

“They’re dangerous,” I replied. “They could go at any moment, and if there are teenagers hanging out — and the beer cans we keep finding seem to signify that there are — we could be sued if the buildings fall on top of them when they’re doing the dirty.”

Thistle snorted as she shook her head. “Doing the dirty? That’s something Landon would say.”

She wasn’t wrong. My fiancé had a way with words, which made me laugh every day. That was only one of the reasons I’d fallen in love with him. The others included the fact that he was ridiculously handsome and had a heart of gold. Just thinking about him made me smile. When caught by Thistle, that made her frown.

“Stop being schmaltzy,” Thistle snapped. “You’re bugging the crap out of me.”

“Maybe you’re bugging the crap out of me,” I shot back. She was my cousin and I loved her, but she knew what buttons to push to drive me crazy. “I can be schmaltzy if I want to. I’m getting married in a few weeks.”

“Yeah, I still don’t understand why you’re pushing that so fast,” Thistle complained. “You guys just got engaged. Why not drag it out a year or so? Then you can plan the wedding of your dreams and not have all this pressure.”

“We want to get married now.” Landon and I had talked long and hard about what we wanted. “I want an outdoor wedding, which means we have to do it before the weather turns. He’s fine with whatever I want as long as there are scallops wrapped in bacon as hors d’oeuvres and we go somewhere tropical for our honeymoon.”

“Yeah, but ... everything is so rushed,” Thistle said. “Our mothers are absolutely melting down over this. You must’ve noticed.”

“I know they wanted more time, but Landon and I don’t want to wait.” I avoided making eye contact as I turned back to picking up garbage. “Just in case.”

“Just in case what?” Thistle demanded as she skirted around Aunt Tillie. Our elderly great-aunt appeared to be using her magic to clean … or bring the trees to life. It was always hard to tell with her. “Be careful with whatever spell you’re using,” she barked. “If this goes Fantasia, we’re going to have a heckuva time explaining it ... especially given who lives on the other side of the lake now.” She pointed at the expansive house across the water.

“I don’t care what they think,” Aunt Tillie said darkly as she glared at the house. Nobody was outside — something I considered a genuine relief — but I couldn’t help but wonder if the occupants were inside watching us.

“Has anybody seen them?” Thistle asked. She looked just as unhappy as Aunt Tillie.

“I haven’t, but I know they’re still hanging around,” I replied. “I was talking to Mrs. Gunderson the other day. They had those bacon maple doughnuts Landon likes, so I picked him up a box. She said that they’ve been having coffee and doughnuts in her shop almost every day.”

“I guess that means they’re still here.” Thistle’s expression was sour. “I don’t trust them.”

That was the understatement of the year. Ever since Aunt Tillie’s half-sister Willa had returned to Hemlock Cove, our touristy witch town in northern Lower Michigan, we’d done nothing but watch and wait. We were all suspicious of Willa’s motives. The fact that her granddaughter Rosemary was with her and was engaged to my former boss only added to the heightened sense of worry washing over our family.

“Nobody trusts them,” Aunt Tillie barked, waving her hands so the wind served as an invisible garbage collector and started moving all the trash into a pile near the fire pit. I had to admit — even though I would never say it out loud in her presence — it was an impressive spell. “They’re bad people.”

I sighed. “I don’t know if it’s fair to call them bad people,” I hedged.

“Oh, no?” Aunt Tillie was having none of it. “What have they ever done that’s good for humanity?”

“Nothing.” I couldn’t argue that point. “They also haven’t gone out of their way to mess with us for the most part. Brian, however, is another story.” I looked at the house. It was big, bold and impressive ... and I believed beyond a shadow of a doubt that Brian had purchased the house because he knew it would bother me. Thanks to Landon and Hemlock Cove Police Chief Terry Davenport, a man who had helped raised me, I was now the proud owner of The Whistler, the town newspaper. Brian inherited the newspaper from his grandfather William Kelly almost two years ago, but he ran it into the ground while threatening me in the process. Landon had stepped in, helping me buy the newspaper and essentially stealing it out from under Brian. The man was still bitter about it, which had to be why he was back in town ... and haunting the property Landon and I planned to build a house on eventually.

“This is obviously on purpose,” Clove said from her spot in the shade. When inviting her to help, I knew she wouldn’t. She was too big. But she whined when left out of things, so I figured it was best to let her act in a supervisory position. So far that had included snacking, drinking