Page 25 of Big Witch Energy

“Dad,” she sighed. “Don’t start that again. It’s not your fault.”

“But it is,” her father insisted. “I brought this on you.”

“No one brought this—”

Her phone rang, and it was their insurance agent, distracting Caroline with blessed minutiae—and her brain leaped for the chance to deal with something she might be able to control. She was still working out whether their coverage included “roof heart attack” when her brothers approached.

Caroline ended the call. It was not looking good, in terms of roof-heart-attack coverage.

“Hey, uh, it looks like you guys have all this under control,” Will said, rubbing his hand over the back of his neck. People rarely believed that the boys were twins. Will was bald as an egg, thin and angular, while Wally was rounded, with their dad’s thick dark hair and a cherubic face that had always gotten him out of trouble when they were kids. They were fraternal in appearance but identical in their ability to avoid responsibility. It would have been impressive if it wasn’t so damned irritating..

“There’s really not much we can do here,” Wally continued. “So, I think we’re just going to head home.”

Caroline’s jaw dropped open. Dozens of people were milling around the site, trying to find a way to help. But Wally and Will were just gonna casually wander away?

“And it’s pretty cold out,” Will said. “I’ve got a cough already, and I don’t want to make Tabby sick.”

Caroline rolled her eyes. Will’s live-in girlfriend, Tabby, was a desk clerk at the Duchess Hotel, a job she’d secured after Caroline removed her from her position at the Rose. Physically. Despite Gert’s “family only” policy, Will had insisted he “couldn’t” work without Tabby there—not that the difference in effort was noticeable in Tabby’s presence. But in the end, Tabby spent more time on her phone than she’d spent waiting tables, plus she had a terrible habit of leaving that phone in random places. One unfortunate model had ended up in the kitchen’s grease trap.

“Fine,” she sighed.

“Uh, I don’t suppose that Mom got any of the food out of the kitchen?” Wally asked. “Maybe a turkey melt or two?”

“What?” Caroline gaped at him.

“Well, you don’t want it to go to waste,” Wally insisted, his voice getting louder.

“And I’m sure Tabby would appreciate it if I brought home dinner for her,” Will added, matching Wally’s volume. “You know how hard she works.”

Caroline resisted a second eye roll. She supposed that ultimately, the family should be thanking Tabby. Without her, Will would probably still be living with their parents. He had moved Tabby into the Wilton house a few years before, but she couldn’t stand how “sad” the atmosphere was and seemed to think it was her job to cheer things up—by moving things around, throwing things out—including Chris’s things.

Frankly, Tabby was lucky Gert hadn’t removed her from the planet.

“I’m pretty sure all the food is contaminated with ceiling dust,” Caroline told them.

“Could you check?” Will asked.

“No,” Caroline huffed. “If you’re not going to be helpful, go home.”

“Fine, but there’s no reason to be rude,” Wally told her. “We’re not the ones who let the roof cave in.”

“What the—” Caroline turned to her dad, looking for him to defend her, or at least, remind the boys that no one “let” the roof cave in. But her father had already turned away, walking back home.

***

Nearly a week later, Caroline and Gert walked down the sidewalk, trying to keep the brisk wind from blowing the financial papers out of their hands. The gray skies definitely reflected their mood. They’d spent the afternoon at the island’s lone bank branch, trying to secure funding for the renovations at the Rose. It had been disheartening, seeing how little the bank really seemed to value the bar, in terms of collateral, or as a viable business. The branch manager, Georgie Farthing, assured her that the family was highly regarded, but the bar’s “potential projections” made them a risky investment.

The rising temperatures had mostly cleared the snow slush from the sidewalks. They weren’t quite dry yet, but it definitely meant less strain on the tarps covering the roof at the Rose.

She could feel the frustration coming off her mother in waves. Gert had protested the idea of taking Riley’s money at all, when Caroline had told her of the offer, but at this rate, they might have to rely more heavily on the “Shaddow Foundation Trust” than they’d originally planned.

“Borrowing money,” Gert huffed. “The Wiltons have never borrowed money in our lives.”

“Well, times change,” Caroline said.

“I just don’t like the idea,” her mother griped.

Frustration rose in Caroline’s belly. Not liking the idea of borrowing money didn’t change the fact that the place needed to be repaired. “Well, what else am I going to do, Mom? The boys don’t have the credit score we need to secure the financing. Hell, you and Dad barely have the credit score we need.”

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