Thistle stomped her foot. “I don’t want to.”
“If you make me chase you, it’s going to get ugly.”
It was an effective threat, because Thistle fell into step with her mother and moved toward the door. “Fine.”
Aunt Tillie cackled from her chair. “Have fun,” she called out.
Mom crooked her finger at Aunt Tillie. “You’re coming too.”
“No, I’m not.”
“Yes, you are. You’re already on my list because of those leggings. Don’t think I didn’t notice the backside of them. You tried to be sly this morning and slip them on, but that didn’t work. You’re coming with us.”
Aunt Tillie turned petulant in the blink of an eye. “I would rather not.”
“Get up!” Mom’s voice was so icy it had me shuddering. “We’re doing this right now.”
For a moment, I thought Aunt Tillie would continue to argue — it was her way, after all — but she got to her feet. “You’re all on my list,” she warned. “Every single one of you.”
“Yeah, yeah, yeah.” Thistle waved the threat off. “What else is new?”
“I’ve been researching new curses,” Aunt Tillie warned. “I’ve got a few ideas.”
“There’d better not be any skunks showing up in my inn,” Mom warned. “If they do, a bomb will show up in that greenhouse.”
“Oh, you wouldn’t blow up my greenhouse.”
“Not that sort of bomb.” Mom’s smile was evil enough that it sent chills down my spine. “We’re talking a glitter bomb, one that smells like rancid cupcakes and stains every bottle of wine pink.”
Aunt Tillie growled. “Don’t even think about it.”
“Then get it together. Clove is our priority right now.”
WHEN LANDON AND CHIEF TERRY SAW us walking into the library in a crowd, they exchanged amused looks and started toward the door. I wanted to call out to stop them, but I would’ve made the same choice.
Mom had no problem being the heavy. “Don’t even think about it, boys,” she announced, causing them to freeze. “Last time I checked, you’re part of this family. You stick with the family during group discussions.”
Chief Terry issued a whine I’d never heard before. “I don’t want to. You’re about to talk about lady bits, and I cannot deal with that. I’ve known her since she was a little girl and didn’t have lady bits.”
Mom shot him a withering look. “She’s always had lady bits. She was born with them.”
“You know what I mean.” Chief Terry protested. “This is a female discussion. I’m going to the kitchen to eat cookies like a real man.”
“And I’m going with him,” Landon added.
Mom’s eyes narrowed. “Sit. Down.”
They didn’t even look at each other. Both scrambled for the couch, where they sat with their hands in their laps. Neither wanted to take on my mother. I was impressed with her command of the situation.
“Now, we need to talk to you, Clove.” Mom flashed a smile that was straight out of the Grinch cartoon movie.
“Yeah, that will relax her,” Thistle muttered.
I couldn’t help but agree, but I wisely kept my mouth shut.
“Is something wrong?” Clove’s eyes went wide. “Has something bad happened to Sam?”
“He’s at the Dandridge, or at least I think he is,” Mom replied, taking a seat next to Clove. “I’m sure he’s fine. I wish he were here for this conversation, but we have to roll with the punches.”
“Is the world ending? If so, I want to be on Aunt Tillie’s team for the apocalypse. You’re frightening, Aunt Winnie, but she’s going to survive and we all know it.”
Aunt Tillie pumped her fist. “Ha! I told you all. I’m the Daryl Dixon of the apocalypse.”
“What happens if it’s aliens instead of zombies?” Thistle demanded.
“Then I’m the Ellen Ripley of the apocalypse.”
“And a plague?” I asked.
“Nobody wants to survive that. I’ve read The Stand. That way lies freaky glowing hands and a decimated Vegas. That’s absolutely zero fun.”
Well, at least she’d given it some thought.
“It’s not the apocalypse,” Mom reassured Clove. “We need to talk about the baby.”
Clove leaned back in her chair and rubbed her stomach, her eyes instantly landing on Thistle. “You told them.” Her tone was accusatory.
“I felt like I had no choice,” Thistle said. “What happened today was a big deal.”
“The baby doesn’t like the shades,” Clove explained. “She didn’t mean to hurt Bay.”
“Of course she didn’t.” Mom patted Clove’s hand. “She loves Bay because you love Bay. We’re not worried the baby wants to hurt us. On the contrary, we think the baby is going to be something special.”
Clove smiled. “Of course she is. She’s a Winchester ... though she’s going to be a Cornell.”
“She’s going to be a Winchester,” Aunt Tillie fired back. “All babies in this family carry the Winchester name.”
“Not this baby.” For the first time in I couldn’t remember how long, Clove stood up to Aunt Tillie. “Sam has a right to pass on his name to our baby.”
“Then make it Mitzi Cornell-Winchester,” Aunt Tillie said. “The Winchester name must be in there.”
“I kind of like the name Mitzi.” Clove adopted a far-off expression. “It’s pretty.”
“No,” Thistle and I answered at the same time.
Clove scowled. “You guys are no fun when it comes to naming babies. Sam and I have already talked about it. Whatever the baby’s first name ends up being, the last name will be Cornell. Winchester will be the middle name.”
“No.” Aunt Tillie stamped. “That’s a mistake.”
“Then it will be our mistake.”
Aunt Tillie opened her mouth again, but Mom silenced her with a look. “Clove and Sam have the right to name their baby. You don’t get a say.”
“If this isn’t about naming the baby, what is it about?” Clove demanded. “If you’re not worried that the baby is trying to kill Bay, what’s the problem?”
“The problem is that the baby is much stronger than we anticipated,” Marnie replied, perching on the arm of Clove’s chair and stroking her head. They looked like clones of one another. I knew exactly how Clove would look in twenty-five years. It was eerie.
“Why is that bad?” Clove whined. “Bay is
