Read Online Witches of Three_Philomena by Temple Hogan - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Temple Hogan
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Em. We have to go. I have to get that stuff unloaded.”
“Can I stay here while you do that?” Emily wheedled.
Beck looked at Phil. “Would you mind?”
“No, of course not,” Phil said, although she really did. It wouldn’t be for long, she consoled herself and besides Emily’s radiant smile made Phil think she could endure her presence for the short time it would take Beck to unload his truck.
When he’d been reassured about leaving his daughter in Phil’s care and had left, she had a moment of panic. She had no idea what to do with a child or how to occupy one. Emily solved that problem. She took a seat at the table and said primly.
“You’re supposed to offer me cookies and milk.” She sat staring at Phil with Beck’s blue eyes.
“I don’t have any milk and cookies,” she said shortly.
“Everyone has milk and cookies,” Emily said sternly, her eyebrows pulled down in rebuke.
Phil couldn’t help feeling a mite intimidated, but that was crazy. She was a witch in control of nearly everything and this was a four-year old child.
“Are you sure you’re a kid?” she asked crossly.
“What else would I be?” Emily answered, occupying herself with straightening Trudy’s old-fashioned dress and yarn hair.
“You could be a gremlin or a munchkin or another witch.”
Emily laughed. Phil took the distraction to nod her head at a cupboard, then with great ceremony, she opened the door and pulled out a package of cookies, which she produced with a flourish. Emily looked them over. Phil crossed to the fridge to pour a glass of milk from a container that hadn’t been there thirty seconds before.
“Don’t you have homemade cookies?” Emily inquired, staring at the package dubiously.
“Who makes cookies?” Phil snapped.
“My grandma makes them all the time, and they’re much better than the ones you buy at the store,” Emily said as if reciting a much-quoted line.
“How would you know if you haven’t tried them?” Phil demanded.
“That’s what my grandma says, and she never lies.”
“Sometimes adults lie.”
“Not my grandma, she never lies.” The impossible child drew her brows down and glared at Phil.
“Well, maybe she didn’t lie, but maybe she just didn’t know herself.”
“She knows everything.”
They were at an impasse. Phil sighed. How had she ever gotten into an argument with a four year old, moreover, an argument that she was losing?
“I’ll check in the cookie jar,” Phil said and turned to a fat gargoyle jar that usually held the detritus she normally didn’t want to deal with. Reaching in, she pulled out a ginger cookie and put it on a plate. Emily was watching her sharply.
“Only one cookie?” she asked. “I like two.”
“One is all I have,” Phil snapped. “Don’t be impolite.”
“I’m sorry.” Emily’s response surprised Phil.
“That’s okay,” she said grudgingly.
Then wondered how she could make up to the diminutive version of Beck for her grouchiness. She remembered tea parties she’d once had with her sisters, in their playroom, with the door closed and moms preoccupied elsewhere.
“Would you like to go to a witch’s tea party?” she asked. Emily’s eyes widened. “It’s very secret and you must never tell a soul about it. Otherwise, witches everywhere will be angry with you and you’ll never be allowed at another.”
“I won’t say anything, I promise,” Emily whispered.
Phil snapped her finger and suddenly the table rose into the air along with Emily and her chair. Another snap brought a proper linen tablecloth and cups of tea and plates of cakes and cookies. Phil rose and took her seat.
“Close your mouth Emily. It’s impolite to gape.”
Emily snapped her mouth shut.
Phil smiled in approval. “That’s better.”
She sipped her tea. Emily followed suit. Laughter and a silly light-hearted conversation followed. Phil found herself warming to the girl even if she were a child. Her eyes narrowed as she
“Can I stay here while you do that?” Emily wheedled.
Beck looked at Phil. “Would you mind?”
“No, of course not,” Phil said, although she really did. It wouldn’t be for long, she consoled herself and besides Emily’s radiant smile made Phil think she could endure her presence for the short time it would take Beck to unload his truck.
When he’d been reassured about leaving his daughter in Phil’s care and had left, she had a moment of panic. She had no idea what to do with a child or how to occupy one. Emily solved that problem. She took a seat at the table and said primly.
“You’re supposed to offer me cookies and milk.” She sat staring at Phil with Beck’s blue eyes.
“I don’t have any milk and cookies,” she said shortly.
“Everyone has milk and cookies,” Emily said sternly, her eyebrows pulled down in rebuke.
Phil couldn’t help feeling a mite intimidated, but that was crazy. She was a witch in control of nearly everything and this was a four-year old child.
“Are you sure you’re a kid?” she asked crossly.
“What else would I be?” Emily answered, occupying herself with straightening Trudy’s old-fashioned dress and yarn hair.
“You could be a gremlin or a munchkin or another witch.”
Emily laughed. Phil took the distraction to nod her head at a cupboard, then with great ceremony, she opened the door and pulled out a package of cookies, which she produced with a flourish. Emily looked them over. Phil crossed to the fridge to pour a glass of milk from a container that hadn’t been there thirty seconds before.
“Don’t you have homemade cookies?” Emily inquired, staring at the package dubiously.
“Who makes cookies?” Phil snapped.
“My grandma makes them all the time, and they’re much better than the ones you buy at the store,” Emily said as if reciting a much-quoted line.
“How would you know if you haven’t tried them?” Phil demanded.
“That’s what my grandma says, and she never lies.”
“Sometimes adults lie.”
“Not my grandma, she never lies.” The impossible child drew her brows down and glared at Phil.
“Well, maybe she didn’t lie, but maybe she just didn’t know herself.”
“She knows everything.”
They were at an impasse. Phil sighed. How had she ever gotten into an argument with a four year old, moreover, an argument that she was losing?
“I’ll check in the cookie jar,” Phil said and turned to a fat gargoyle jar that usually held the detritus she normally didn’t want to deal with. Reaching in, she pulled out a ginger cookie and put it on a plate. Emily was watching her sharply.
“Only one cookie?” she asked. “I like two.”
“One is all I have,” Phil snapped. “Don’t be impolite.”
“I’m sorry.” Emily’s response surprised Phil.
“That’s okay,” she said grudgingly.
Then wondered how she could make up to the diminutive version of Beck for her grouchiness. She remembered tea parties she’d once had with her sisters, in their playroom, with the door closed and moms preoccupied elsewhere.
“Would you like to go to a witch’s tea party?” she asked. Emily’s eyes widened. “It’s very secret and you must never tell a soul about it. Otherwise, witches everywhere will be angry with you and you’ll never be allowed at another.”
“I won’t say anything, I promise,” Emily whispered.
Phil snapped her finger and suddenly the table rose into the air along with Emily and her chair. Another snap brought a proper linen tablecloth and cups of tea and plates of cakes and cookies. Phil rose and took her seat.
“Close your mouth Emily. It’s impolite to gape.”
Emily snapped her mouth shut.
Phil smiled in approval. “That’s better.”
She sipped her tea. Emily followed suit. Laughter and a silly light-hearted conversation followed. Phil found herself warming to the girl even if she were a child. Her eyes narrowed as she
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