Page 101 of The Witch

Gram’s chin wobbles, but she follows Ethel’s command. She trudges slowly past us and up the staircase to the second floor. I want to call after her not to go, because I have a feeling I don’t want to know what Ethel is going to say next.

When Gram is out of earshot, Ethel gets right in my face and hisses in a low voice, “How dare you.”

I blink at her in confusion. “How dare I…what?”

“You called Adult Protective Services.”

I stare at her, my mouth hanging open. “What? No, I didn’t.”

“Don’t lie!” she spits at me. “They were here while you were gone, and they’re going to come back tomorrow to continue their investigation. And they knew all sorts of things that only you could’ve known. Like about her burning the toast or wearing a nightgown all the time.”

“I…I didn’t call them,” I stammer. “I didn’t! I swear!”

She sneers at me. “If you didn’t, then who did?”

For a moment, I am completely baffled. I don’t know who could have called Adult Protective Services. I doubt my father would have done it without telling me. The only other person who knew about the toast and the nightgowns is…

Henry.

“It must have been Henry Ziegler,” I manage. “He… I told him some things and…he must have…”

I hoped this might be a mitigating factor, but it just seems to make Ethel even angrier. “You told that dirtbag from the museum our private business?”

“I was just…” I don’t know what to say to make this better. “I didn’t know he was going to call Adult Protective Services!”

“Well, he did.” She grits her teeth. “Didn’t I tell you that he wasn’t actually interested in you and only wanted the property? And now he’ll get his wish and take Pemberton, all because of you!”

“But, Ethel⁠—”

“I want you to get out of our house.” She sticks a shaking finger in my face and then points to the door. “We took you in as a favor when you were down on your luck, and this is how you repay us! You’re not welcome here anymore. I want you gone first thing tomorrow morning.”

I open my mouth to protest, but I can tell nothing I say will make any difference. I can’t even blame her for wanting me to leave. Because of me, Gram might get forcibly taken from the only home she has ever known. The thought of it creates a huge lump that lodges itself firmly in my throat.

I can’t believe Henry betrayed me that way. I thought I was starting to fall for him, but Ethel was right—all he ever wanted from me was this house.

I’m glad I found out now, before I did something stupid like move here for him.

74

An hour later, I’m busy throwing my clothes into my duffel bag.

I’ve been too miserable to even think straight since Ethel yelled at me to get the hell out of her house. I haven’t even told Gram I’m leaving, because she’s been so happy since her haircut and I don’t want to upset her. I’ll tell her when I’m on my way out. It’ll be easier that way.

I’m in the middle of debating if I should fold my shirts before shoving them into the bag when the landline downstairs starts ringing. It’s rare that anyone besides me bothers to pick up the phone in this house, so I abandon my halfhearted attempt to pack and walk downstairs. I almost expect whoever it is to give up before I can answer it, but I manage to catch it in time.

“Hello?” I say in a voice dripping with impatience.

Henry’s cheerful voice pipes up on the other end of the line. “Julia!”

He sounds so thrilled to reach me. If I didn’t know what he did, I’d swear it was genuine. Did he like me at all, or has he been playing me this entire time just to get his hands on Pemberton?

“Hey,” I mutter, wrapping my fingers around the phone cord.

“So, listen.” I can hear him smiling on the other end of the line. Bastard. “There’s a ballroom dance night going on at a club in the next town over tomorrow night. It’s going to be mostly swing dancing, but there’s definitely going to be some foxtrot. I think it’ll be a ton of fun. You said you wanted to do it again, right?”

It was really fun dancing with Henry. One of the more romantic nights in my life—or so I thought. That lying bastard. “I don’t think so.”

“Oh.” His voice falters. “Sorry, I thought you⁠—”