Bewitched Quotes

“wait … are you saying that Aunt Tillie curses you whenever she feels you’re being disrespectful?” Three hours later Clove and I remained in the garden, work was mostly forgotten. We sat on the small patio’s pavers, drinking from water bottles as she regaled me with a series of hilarious family stories that boggled the mind. “Aunt Tillie has cursed me so many times I’ve lost count,” Clove confirmed. “I need examples,” I said. “I can’t picture this. Are”
― Amanda M. Lee, Bewitched

“understand the curiosity,” Clove said. “You went about this the wrong way, though.” “Do you think your family will ever forgive me?” “I have no idea,” Clove said. “I guess we’ll both have to wait to find out.” “Does that mean you’re leaving?” “I can’t leave,” Clove said, shooting me a small smile. “If I don’t stay, this thistle will destroy your entire garden. I know a thing or two about controlling … thistle.” “Very cute,” I said, taking the lawn and leaf bag from her. “Thank you.” “You’re welcome.” “Now, tell me about the kid who popped a pimple and became a priest,” I instructed. “That sounds like a great story.”
― Amanda M. Lee, Bewitched

“We do fight, though,” she continued. “I think most families fight. They might not be as loud as we are, but we always know where we stand with one another. Despite the fights, my family is loyal. No matter how angry Bay and Thistle get with me, I know they’ll always be there for me. That’s what a true family is all about.” “That was almost poetic,” I said, offering her a rueful smile. “I would be lying if I said your family didn’t fascinate me. And, for the record, I do understand why Bay is upset. I should’ve told her the truth from the beginning. That’s on me.” “Why didn’t you tell her the truth?” Clove’s expression was so earnest she momentarily resembled a child.”
― Amanda M. Lee, Bewitched

“is in my family.” I tilted my head to the side as I looked her up and down. She sat on the ground, carefully folding the stalk so it fit in the bag. She had a smudge of dirt on her nose and she seemed intent on her task. It probably wasn’t the time for a deep conversation. I didn’t want to lose my chance to question her about her family, though. “What’s the deal with you guys?” I asked finally. “What do you mean?” That was a loaded question. “You fight like cats and dogs, people in town swear up and down Aunt Tillie once shrank some guy’s … um … family jewels and then he accidentally popped it like a zit, and you all seem to turn on each other when the mood strikes.”
― Amanda M. Lee, Bewitched

“grunt, causing me to chuckle. “Have you ever considered that you’re not great at insulting people?” I asked, opening the lawn and leaf bag so Clove could shove the huge thistle stalk inside. “I’ll have you know that I’m great at insulting people,” Clove countered. “I’m a Winchester. The ability to insult people comes with the genes.” “I’ve noticed how good your family is at it,” I conceded. “I don’t think you’re good at it, though. I think you want to be good at it because you think you should be able to equal Thistle and Bay when they get in a mood, but you’re too sweet.” “I’m not sweet,” Clove scoffed. “I’m … mean.” “Yes, you’re terrifying.” “No one needs the sarcasm,” Clove said. “Fine. You’re probably right. I am terrible at insulting people. That doesn’t mean I’m sweet.”
― Amanda M. Lee, Bewitched

“voice inside wouldn’t let me. “Clove, do you want to see the Dandridge?” Clove’s face split with a wide grin. “Yes, please.” “Come on,” I said, heading back in the direction of the lighthouse. “By the way, do you like gardening?” “I love gardening. Why?” “I have a way you can pay me back for hitting me,” I said. “I think you’re going to really enjoy it.” “I CAN’T believe you’re making me do this,” Clove huffed an hour later, her hands covered by the gardening gloves as she yanked on the thistle plant. “Do you have any idea how much these prickly things hurt?” “Why do you think I gave up yanking it out yesterday?” “You’re a putz,” Clove muttered, giving”
― Amanda M. Lee, Bewitched

“Clove giggled. “I love Lionel,” she said. “Last year he thought clowns were invading because someone’s tablecloth blew off their clothesline in the middle of a storm and he thought the clown from It was spying on him. He kept ordering people to lay siege to the sewage plant – even though we don’t have one.” “I came out here to see what they were doing,” I said. “One of the kids got mouthy, so I told him I was going to call Chief Terry. For the record, I didn’t. The threat was enough to make the kids scatter, though.” “Without picking up their mess,” Clove surmised. “I get it. I’m sorry for thinking you were partying in the woods. That’s probably worse than hitting you, huh?” “Probably,” I agreed, rolling my eyes. “Well, um, I guess I should be going,” Clove said, shifting her feet as she glanced around. “I’m sorry I hit you.”
― Amanda M. Lee, Bewitched

“when you have a perfectly good lighthouse to drink in.” I barked out a laugh. “Do you really think I drink Milwaukee’s Best?” Clove shrugged. “For all I know you could be drinking on a budget.” “Honey, I would rather give up drinking than imbibe this swill,” I said, dropping the final can into the bag. “You don’t have to worry about me being so poor I have to drink Milwaukee’s Best. I’m not rich, but I’m not destitute either.” Clove didn’t look convinced. “Then why were you partying in the woods?” “I wasn’t partying in the woods,” I protested. “There was a group of kids partying out here last night. I interrupted them and told them I was going to call the police. They left before cleaning up their mess.” “That’s disappointing.” “Teenagers,” I said. “They do what they do. I don’t know how disappointing it”
― Amanda M. Lee, Bewitched

“Maybe,” Clove hedged. Realization washed over me. “I’m guessing you’re interested in seeing the Dandridge but you don’t want to see me.” “That’s not exactly it,” Clove said. “Clove, I had a really long night,” I said, tugging on my limited patience. “If you don’t want to tell me why you’re here, then … you can help me clean up.” I handed her the garbage bag. “Hold that open.” Clove wordlessly took the bag and watched as I picked my way around the clearing and gathered the trash. Her face was hard to read, and finally I couldn’t take the silence one second longer. “What are you thinking?” I asked. “I’m thinking that you’re a little old to be partying in the woods,” Clove replied, not missing a beat. “I’m not judging you, but once you hit twenty-five you’re officially too old to be drinking Milwaukee’s Best around a bonfire …”
― Amanda M. Lee, Bewitched

“Still, it wasn’t a nice thing to say,” Clove said, shifting from one foot to the other. “I think Bay and Thistle are a bad influence on me sometimes. I was in a good mood until … .” “You saw me?” I prodded. “Actually, I was going to say I was in a good mood until you scared the life out of me,” Clove replied. “If you must know, seeing you doesn’t dampen my mood.” For some reason, the statement warmed me. “I see.” “Don’t let that go to your head,” Clove warned, extending a finger. “I didn’t say seeing you made me happy.” “Duly noted,” I said, fighting the urge to laugh. “Not that I’m not happy to see you, but what are you doing out here?” “Oh, well … .” Clove looked caught, and I was pretty sure I knew why. “Did you come out to see the Dandridge?”
― Amanda M. Lee, Bewitched

“When I got back to the small clearing I was surprised to find a visitor. I recognized the dark hair and short stature before Clove turned around. “Holy crud! You scared me,” Clove said, hopping when she caught sight of me and pressing a hand to the spot over her heart. “I’m sorry,” I said, holding my hands up, the garbage bag dangling in the wind. “I promise I wasn’t trying to scare you.” “That’s okay,” Clove said, her face flushed. “I … um … .” Before I realized what was happening she lashed out and slapped my arm. “What was that for?” I asked, taking an involuntary step back and fixing Clove with an incredulous look. “You scared me,” Clove said. “You had it coming.” “You can’t just walk around slapping people,” I said. “That’s mean. I didn’t mean to frighten you.”
― Amanda M. Lee, Bewitched

“I CONSIDERED going into town for breakfast the next morning, instead settling for Raisin Bran and an apple before returning to my garden project. If I was going to be an adult, I figured being a responsible one was probably my best course of action. I tracked down a pair of gloves in the shed out back and was on my way to the front garden when I changed my trajectory and headed to the previous evening’s party spot. It took me a few minutes, but when I arrived I wasn’t surprised to find garbage and empty beer cans strewn about, discarded in haste when the teenagers made a run for it after my threat. For the record, I didn’t follow through on it. Now I was reconsidering my decision. I made a disgusted sound in the back of my throat and briefly considered leaving the mess – or calling Chief Terry to find out who Andy was so I could call his parents – before returning to the lighthouse to retrieve a garbage bag.”
― Amanda M. Lee, Bewitched

“does that sound?” I ran my tongue over my teeth as I considered my options. “That sounds like a great idea,” I said finally, taking a moment to study each face in turn and then swiveling back toward the Dandridge. “Just so you know, I’ll be contacting Chief Terry. He asked me to call if I heard any kids partying in the woods. I’m sure he’ll be thrilled to drive out here and bust you guys.” Someone mime-coughed the word “narc,” and I couldn’t help but wonder when I became the type of adult who threatened to call the cops. “Wait … .” Andy called to my back. “I … there’s no need to do that.” I tried to keep my expression from crossing over into smug territory … and failed. “I think that’s exactly what I need to do,” I replied. “Don’t worry, though. You can keep doing your … business … to your heart’s content.”
― Amanda M. Lee, Bewitched

“Hey, guys.” I greeted the kids with a sheepish smile and upturned palms. “Um … it’s kind of late.” Multiple heads snapped in my direction, although no one made a move to hide what they were doing. The pungent odor of marijuana wafted by, and I briefly pressed my eyes shut before addressing them again. “This is private property,” I said. “You’re not supposed to be out here. I don’t suppose you can … I don’t know … move your party about a half mile in that direction, could you?” I pointed to the east, hoping my smile came off as congenial instead of creepy. “Are you saying this is your property?” One of the boys, a swarthy kid with broad shoulders, dishwater blond hair and too much swagger for his age, narrowed his eyes as he looked me up and down. “I think you’re probably lost.”
― Amanda M. Lee, Bewitched

“again. It was the unmistakable sound of laughter. I knit my eyebrows together, briefly wondering whether what I heard was representative of the giggling I heard in my dream. The day’s events rushed back, and I knew without a doubt what was happening. I grabbed a sweatshirt and tugged it over my head, slipping into my shoes before pushing open the front door and trudging outside. If Chief Terry hadn’t gone out of his way to stop by with his warning, I would’ve ignored the noise. Confronting partying teenagers isn’t my idea of a thrilling midnight excursion. I followed the sound of the voices, stopping twice to adjust my trajectory, and when I found the source about two hundred feet into the densely wooded area I wasn’t surprised to see a bonfire, several cases of beer and about ten rowdy kids. It brought back fond memories – which I quickly tamped down because I’m a responsible adult”
― Amanda M. Lee, Bewitched

“I woke in the middle of the night, something jarring me out of my sleep. I’d been enjoying a particularly nice dream, although I could only remember fragments about a dark-haired woman and the magical sound of her laughter when I wrenched my eyes open. It took me a moment to get my bearings, and when I remembered I was sleeping on the main floor of the Dandridge, I rolled so I could scan the fields outside the nearby window. It was dark outside, the blackness momentarily reminding me just how isolated I was in respect to the rest of”
― Amanda M. Lee, Bewitched

“It seemed like overkill to me, but the last thing I wanted was to be on Chief Terry’s bad side. “No problem,” I said. “I haven’t heard anything so far, but if that changes, you’re the first one I’ll call.”
― Amanda M. Lee, Bewitched

“I’m not thrilled with the word ‘fornicating,’ but that’s exactly what I’m saying,” Chief Terry said. “Just … be on the lookout. I don’t think anyone is plotting world domination or doing anything worse than drinking and carousing, but you should keep your eyes open. “If I’ve learned anything doing this job, it’s that kids will be kids,” he continued. “I’ve also learned that sometimes kids don’t think things through before they do something stupid. Be careful, and report any vandalism. In fact, report anything out of the ordinary, just to”
― Amanda M. Lee, Bewitched

“Because people report stolen chickens faster than they do stolen cars in this town,” Chief Terry replied. “I think it’s more likely Lionel heard cackling of an amorous nature.” It took me a moment to grasp what he was insinuating. “Oh. You think the kids were partying … and maybe fornicating … and Lionel misunderstood what he heard. That’s what you’re saying, right?”
― Amanda M. Lee, Bewitched

“Despite its size, there’s never a dull moment in Hemlock Cove. “Sacrificing chickens?” “Listen, I don’t think that’s what’s going on,” Chief Terry said. “The teenagers around here pick different spots in the woods to party. A lot of them go out to Hollow Creek, but when they’re feeling adventurous they branch out.” “I guess I’m not sure why it’s a problem,” I said. “They’re teenagers. Isn’t partying in the woods pretty much what teenagers do?” “I’m a police officer.” “I noticed.” “I look the other way a lot of the time when it comes to the partying,” Chief Terry said. “If I catch them, most of the time I call their parents and let them off with a warning. This is a small town, and I don’t see the need to bust kids for doing what comes naturally. “That being said, if they’re doing something else … like sacrificing chickens … I really can’t ignore it,” he continued.”
― Amanda M. Lee, Bewitched

“give you props for that. I never liked how the state let this place fall apart. I’m glad you’re refurbishing it.” “Thanks, I guess,” I said, my internal danger alarm sounding. Why would Hemlock Cove’s police chief visit me on official business? “What’s going on?” “Well, we’ve had reports of local teenagers raising a ruckus out here,” Chief Terry said. “I want you to be on the lookout in case they try to break into the lighthouse or vandalize any of the construction.” “I’ve been living out here,” I pointed out. “I think I would’ve heard something like that.” “We’ve gotten four different reports from neighbors,” Chief Terry supplied. “I think the kids are partying out here from the sounds of it, but Lionel Strong claims that they’re out here sacrificing chickens,”
― Amanda M. Lee, Bewitched

“I am having trouble,” I confirmed. “It’s not your kind of trouble, though. Unless … do you know the difference between weeds and legitimate plants?” Chief Terry arched an eyebrow and shifted so he could look around me. “That’s creeping thistle,” he said. “It’s a weed, and it hurts if you step on it. You need to dig under it to get it out … and I recommend wearing gloves if you don’t want to shred your hands.” “Thistle, huh?” Why didn’t that surprise me? It seemed thistle was out to get me … in more ways than one. “That’s just … perfect.” Chief Terry chuckled, taking me by surprise. “I take it you’re still fighting with the Winchesters,” he said. “I would tread carefully around them if I were you.”
― Amanda M. Lee, Bewitched

“was a weed or a legitimate plant. I knew the garden was gorgeous at one time, but it was so out of control now that the life was being choked out of it. The sound of a vehicle door closing caught my attention, and when I glanced over my shoulder I recognized the figure moving up the gravel walkway. Terry Davenport was Hemlock Cove’s top cop. He was beloved by the residents and tight with the Winchesters. This couldn’t be good. For a brief moment I wondered whether Clove accused me of trying to kill her – she appeared serious about that head wound thing – but I dismissed the notion. She was too kind to do anything of the sort. I pushed myself to a standing position, brushing my hands off on my jeans as I waited for Chief Terry to close the distance between us. I pasted what I hoped resembled a pleasant smile on my face. “Welcome to my ongoing nightmare,” I”
― Amanda M. Lee, Bewitched

“You don’t like me because of Bay, right?” “I don’t dislike you,” Clove argued. “I just … Bay doesn’t trust you.” “Do you agree with her?” “I don’t know,” Clove said. “I … you seem nice to me. Thistle and Bay see it another way.” “Bay is convinced I’m up to something nefarious, and Thistle likes to hate everyone,” I supplied. “I get it.” “Thistle doesn’t hate everyone,” Clove argued. “Other than Marcus and the other members of your family, who does she like?” “She’s fond of the UPS delivery guy,” Clove said. “He always hits on her and thinks she’s bohemian and chic. She likes him.” “Well, that’s something,” I said, tamping down my irritation. In truth, I couldn’t blame Bay for being suspicious. I lied and infiltrated her place of business, and then followed her around town trying to get proof regarding my”
― Amanda M. Lee, Bewitched

“I’m their favorite target,” Clove confirmed. “It’s okay. I’m used to it.” “That doesn’t sound fair to me,” I said. “You should tell them where to stick it when they tell you things about … Bigfoot.” Clove shrugged. “I’m not really worried about it,” she said. “They’re my best friends. I mess with them, too.” “You mess with Thistle?” I was doubtful. “Only when I’m hungry for dirt,” Clove answered, causing me to knit my eyebrows. I had no idea what that meant. “Well, if you ever want to see inside the lighthouse – and I promise a Bigfoot-free experience – don’t hesitate to stop by,” I offered. “You’ll probably like it, and because you own your own business in town, I would welcome any insight you have for when I open the Dandridge.” “I’m not sure that’s a good idea,” Clove hedged, shifting from one foot to the other. “We probably shouldn’t hang out.”
― Amanda M. Lee, Bewitched

“No,” Clove replied hurriedly. “I know they were only trying to scare me.” “Are you sure?” “Fine,” Clove said, resigned. “Now that they’ve told me Bigfoot lives out there that’s all I can think about. I have to think Bigfoot is mean and nasty.” “I’m guessing if Bigfoot is real – and I’m pretty sure he’s not – that he’s probably pretty easygoing,” I said. “He would have to be … congenial … to live under the radar like he does. If he was mean someone would see him and he’d be arrested … or at least forced into anger management classes.” Clove chuckled at my lame joke. “That’s a good point,” she said. “I’m still convinced he’s going to hunt me down and eat me.” “Bay and Thistle mess with you a lot, don’t they?”
― Amanda M. Lee, Bewitched

“How are things going out at the Dandridge?” Clove asked, changing the subject. “That has to be a big job.” Clove was familiar with the Dandridge thanks to her father’s former girlfriend, a woman who used the facility to aid a human trafficking operation that stowed a large container ship in the nearby cove. She worked with her cousins – and Aunt Tillie – and saved several children, releasing a female ghost at the same time. I was still unclear how Aunt Tillie helped, but I was too much of a gentleman to ask. Actually, that’s not true. I’m terrified of Aunt Tillie. I’m manly enough to admit my faults. “It’s a lot of work, but I’m enjoying it,” I said. “There’s constant construction going on, which is a pain. I’ve seen some computer renderings of what the inside is going to look like when everything is finished, and it’s going to be beautiful.”
― Amanda M. Lee, Bewitched

“I really am sorry for running into you,” I offered. “I was thinking about everything I had to do out at the lighthouse today, and I was … overwhelmed. That doesn’t excuse almost killing you, but I really am sorry.” “I’m fine,” Clove said, waving off my apology. “I shouldn’t have been mean to you. It’s not fair.” If that was her version of mean – especially given those she shares genes with – she had a vastly different definition of the word than I did. “You weren’t mean,” I said. “You were … worried about the head wound.”
― Amanda M. Lee, Bewitched

“sorry.” Two “I … oh … I am so sorry.” My cheeks burned as I leaned over to help Clove to her feet. Her face was flushed, and she looked at my outstretched hand as if it was covered in pus and boils before finally taking it and letting me help her to a standing position. “I didn’t see you,” I said, brushing off the arm of her coat. It was spring, but it wasn’t yet warm enough to go without layers unless it was sunny. “I … are you okay?” Clove’s dark eyes flashed as she jerked her arm away. “I’m fine,” she said, shooting me a hostile look.”
― Amanda M. Lee, Bewitched

“For some reason I couldn’t wait until Aunt Tillie proved Brian’s assertion wrong. “I guess we’ll just have to agree to disagree,” I said. “Are you going back to the newspaper office?” “Yeah, I have to talk to Bay about a new idea I have for advertorial business pieces,” Brian said. “I have a feeling she’s going to put up a fight when I tell her what I want to do to boost revenue.” “Have you ever considered letting Bay run the editorial division and sticking to the advertising?” I asked. “She seems to know what she’s doing.” “I’m the boss,” Brian said. “It’s my job to lead her to the stories. It will be fine.”
― Amanda M. Lee, Bewitched