Wicked Brew Read Online Free Page B

said, reaching for the bills.
    Landon raised them higher. “How much is this?”
    “It’s a thousand dollars, give or take,” Aunt Tillie said. “Not that it’s any of your business.”
    “You’ve made a thousand dollars in less than twenty-four hours?” I was impressed.
    “I’m a good saleswoman.”
    “This is still illegal,” Landon said.
    “Oh, well, then arrest me,” Aunt Tillie said, holding her hands out in front of her. “Arrest a little old lady and prosecute her for trying to scratch out a living. Way to protect the public.”
    “You have an inn,” Landon said. “You don’t need the money from this. You’re just doing it to annoy everyone.”
    “I’m an entrepreneur,” Aunt Tillie replied. “You’re just jealous.”
    Landon glanced at Bay for support. “Do you want to chime in here?”
    “I’m just wondering if selling newspapers by the edge of the road would be worth it,” Bay admitted.
    Landon turned to me. I held up my hands. “I’m going to bring some of the new lotions and candles I made out here. I think she’s on to something.”
    “You people are unbelievable,” Landon said, tossing the money back at Aunt Tillie and stalking back toward the inn. “Un-freaking-believable.”
     
    “HOW much did you end up with?”
    I was watching Aunt Tillie count her bounty from across the dining room table. After dragging another table out to the road, and putting bottles of lotion, herbs and candles on it, we’d taken turns letting Basil dance. By the time the day was over, I’d raked in five hundred bucks – and watched Basil laugh for an entire afternoon. The laughter was worth more than the money in my book.
    “It’s just under sixteen hundred,” Aunt Tillie said. “I’m halfway to my goal.”
    “What are you going to use the money for?”
    “I need a new plow,” she said. “Mine is shot.”
    Aunt Tillie likes to plow things in the winter. She says it’s because she enjoys helping out those in need. Personally? I think she just likes to ram into things with her truck. Technically, she doesn’t have a driver’s license, so she shouldn’t be plowing. No one in town – except Landon – ever calls her on it.
    Basil, her cheeks pink from a little too much sun, slid into the open chair between us. She had a cookie in her hand, and a smile on her face.
    “Did you have fun today?” I asked.
    Basil nodded.
    “Are you ready to talk yet?” I pressed.
    Basil pretended she didn’t hear me.
    Aunt Tillie watched her thoughtfully for a moment. “Don’t bug her,” she said finally. “She’ll talk when she wants to talk.”
    Basil nodded in agreement.
    “You know, when Thistle was little, she went an entire week without talking,” Aunt Tillie said.
    “I did not.”
    “She did,” Aunt Tillie said, ignoring me. “She was mad. She thought her cousin Clove had stolen her doll and beheaded it.”
    A memory tugged at the recesses of my mind.
    “She said she wasn’t going to talk until Clove admitted doing it,” Aunt Tillie said. “When someone asked her what she wanted for dinner, do you know what she did? She barked like a dog.”
    I wanted to argue, but the story sounded vaguely familiar.
    “When someone asked her if she wanted a new doll, she barked like a dog,” Aunt Tillie continued. “It was pretty freaking annoying. Finally, I had to tell her the truth – and I hate telling people the truth. Clove wasn’t the one who beheaded that doll.”
    “It was you,” I interjected.
    “It was creepy,” Aunt Tillie said. “It was like it was watching me. I swear it was haunted.”
    Basil’s eyes widened.
    “It wasn’t really haunted,” I said. “She’s just making that up. She just didn’t like the doll.”
    “It wasn’t haunted,” Aunt Tillie corrected. “It just wanted to be.”
    I shook my head. “Don’t tell her that,” I said. “You’re going to give her nightmares. The doll wasn’t haunted. It was just ugly. That’s why I liked it. I knew it