I Wish (26 page)

“Are you hungry?”

I sighed. Girls were supposed to be the talkers; boys, the grunters. But, of course, our relationship would be unusual in every way. “I am a little hungry.”

He stood, lifting me up with him. My hands flew from their happy position on his chest to a frantic grasping at his shoulders. “Excuse me, but maybe next time you could warn me.”

“I would not have dropped you.”

“My head knows that, but my body didn’t.”

The arm under my knees released and soon my feet touched the floor. But the arm supporting my back stayed firmly in place. “Do you have any requests?”

“For what?”

“Food.”

I stood on tiptoe and kissed him. “No mac and cheese,” I said against his lips.

“Deal.” He stepped away. “Meet me in the backyard in twenty minutes.”

I put the break to use. A shower and clean clothes were necessary. Grant didn’t deserve to cuddle something as sweaty as me.

It only took fifteen minutes, but Grant was ready. He’d set up the food on a small table placed next to the wrought-iron bench. A candle glowed, perfuming the air with warm vanilla. In the center of the table waited a plate of fresh fruit, gourmet cheese, and fancy crackers. I bit into a crisp slice of apple. “Where did you get this?” I asked around a full mouth.

“Mrs. Williford brought it over.”

Unexpected tears stung my eyes. “Why did she do that?”

“She wants to help. It was a pleasure for her to do this. Just enjoy it.”

Was that why Eli offered to help? I nodded as I stuffed in another slice. Then another. I was hungrier than I’d realized, not just for food—but for the yummy, expensive kind that I hadn’t tasted in a long time. Five minutes of silent eating (well, almost silent) passed. Finally, I’d had enough and flopped back on the bench.

“Better?” he asked.

“Much. Thank you.”

His arm slid around my shoulders and drew me to him. It was odd, sitting there under the veil of darkness, watching the neighborhood settle down. Lamps burned in windows. TVs flickered. A few houses down, the rhythmic thud of a basketball on concrete and muffled laughter alerted us to the only other people outside on this glorious fall night.

“This is a perfect date,” I said.

He tensed. “You’d call it a date?”

“Sure. You wouldn’t?”

He looked down at me, his eyes glittering in the faint light. “I thought American girls liked more formality in a date.”

“More money is what you mean.” I smiled. “It’s a date. Don’t argue with me.”

“I never do.”

“Right.” A thought that had tickled in the corner of my brain all day floated into the foreground. “You didn’t argue with me about fixing Henry’s leg.”

“Indeed.”

“You used magic.”

“I did.”

I straightened on the bench and turned to face him. “Was it your wish to heal Henry?”

“It was.”

“So you won’t get punished?”

He raked his fingers through his hair. It fell back into a smooth cap around his head. “There will be a consequence.”

Uh-oh. That didn’t sound good. “What consequence?”

“It’s not important.”

Like I believed that. “Then you won’t mind telling me.”

He rose from the bench and took a few paces into the yard. “I will not receive my promotion at the end of this case.”

Lose his promotion? Because he helped a little boy in pain? “I don’t understand. You can use your powers if you want something, and you wanted to help Henry.”

“True.”

“So what’s the problem?” I stopped, appalled, as realization hit me. “
I
wished it too. You used your powers for
my
wish.”

He nodded.

Great. If only I’d kept my big mouth shut, it would’ve been okay. Grant could’ve healed the leg and kept his promotion intact. “Wow, Grant. I’m so sorry. This isn’t fair, and it’s my fault.”

He shook his head. “I made a conscious choice. I knew I was not honoring the rule.”

“Maybe I could talk to your boss—”

He interrupted. “No, I’ll handle him.”

Crap. It made me crazy to see him so calm when all I wanted to do was stamp my foot and swear. I bounced off the bench and crossed to his side. “Why did you grant the wish?”

“I couldn’t bear to see Henry in pain.”

“You should’ve refused.”

“I don’t regret my decision.” His hands dropped to my hips and drew me to him. “Granting your wishes is no longer just a job. It has become
my
wish. I’m enthralled with your family. I need to see Crystal recover. I’m humbled to have Henry call me his friend. I want to be a partner in restoring laughter to your home. But most of all, I love you, Lacey, more than I could have ever imagined.”

Hadn’t it been just yesterday that I was his employer? No, maybe the change to our relationship had started on Thursday. Or maybe Wednesday. Or the week before that.

Whatever. This was moving fast.

I stared at his mouth, unable to drag my gaze away.
Grant loves Lacey
. The words made me achy and scared and elated, all at the same time. “Aren’t relationships with humans forbidden?”

“Discouraged, yes. Forbidden, no.”

“Hold me.”

He wrapped his arms about me. As his strength flowed into my body, all of my nagging worries fled. I braved a peek at his face. He was smiling. A smile of delight. A smile I had put there.

Grant had served countless humans, good and bad, rich and poor, great and ordinary. And yet, from among all of them, he picked me.
Me
.

I gave in to the joy and ignored the tiny voice reminding me that time was running out.

Status Report #23
Saturday’s Wish: Healing

Dear Boss,

I confess that I healed an injured boy. I did so fully understanding that the consequence for my action was to delay my promotion.

I will prepare for the next case.

You are correct. Until I experienced human love, I never understood its nature.

Humbly submitted,
Grant

R
eynolds Samm invited Henry to spend Sunday afternoon at his house. My brother was particularly excited because we didn’t have video games anymore and Reynolds had every video game system known to man. Reynolds’s mother invited Mom to come too. When Mrs. Samm had visited our house yesterday, she became obsessed with our foul-smelling coffee. Apparently, Mrs. Samm was a fanatic about the health benefits of herbal tea and decided my mother was ready to be educated.

It was not much to build a friendship on, but I wasn’t complaining. My mother was acting happy. Henry was ecstatic. And the invitation left me and Grant alone for the rest of the day.

“What do you want to do?” I asked.

“Whatever you want.”

It was hard to know whether he was yielding to me because I enchanted him or because I was his chief. Either way, I was good with the outcome. “How about a bike ride?”

“Is there more to this request than a simple trip about the neighborhood?”

“There is.” I had a glimmer of a plan to make some quick cash—a plan that required a visit to the flea market.

The ride to the outskirts of town was fun—for him. After the first ten minutes, I was huffing and puffing. He barely cranked the pedals and laughed at me a lot.

For a Sunday, there weren’t many people at the flea market. We wandered along behind the shoppers while I checked out what they were buying.

Grant didn’t tolerate the meandering for long. “May I ask what we’re doing?”

“Hunting for business opportunities.”

“You might give me more details.”

“I’m a good doodler. I want to see if I can turn my doodles into money.” I stopped before a table filled with Halloween costumes and trick-or-treat bags. Good profit margin, especially on the bags, but Halloween came once a year. I wanted something I could sustain for a longer period of time.

“Are you sure you want to do this?”

“Not really. The thought of getting it wrong is terrifying.” The emergency fund only had sixty bucks left, which would barely make a dent in what we owed. But if I could strike it big with the right idea… “I figured if you could turn strips of wood into dollars, maybe we’ll get lucky again.”

Madame Noir was in her spot, reigning over the passersby, drinking sweet tea. “Lacey. Yoo hoo.”

I walked over. “How are things?”

“Not good.” She clucked her tongue and stared at Grant. “Do I know you?”

“No, ma’am. We’ve never met.”

She frowned. “You seem familiar.”

I did not want her going there. Time to divert attention. “Did you sell the candlesticks?”

“I did.” She preened.

“Big profit?”

“You know I’m not going to tell.” She pursed her lips until they resembled a plump rosebud.

She had, and it put her in a good mood, possibly enough to give me free advice. “I need to make some money, Madam. Any ideas for things I could do here?”

“You’ve sold about everything, haven’t you, sugar?” She nodded, needing no answer. “You could work the refreshment stand. They’re always looking for people.”

“I was thinking about homemade items I could sell.”

“Potpourri.”

I shook my head. “Too expensive to buy the ingredients.”

“Doll clothes.”

That would take my mother’s help, which I couldn’t count on. “I don’t know how to sew.”

She fluttered her heavily mascara-ed lashes. “Accessories for little girls. Their parents spend money on the craziest things.”

“Like what?”

“Hair bows. Purses.”

In every photo of me as a little girl, I’d been wearing something shiny or frilly. This suggestion might be good. “Thanks. I’ll give it some thought.”

Grant and I cruised the aisles some more, only this time I stared at each family that passed. Madam was correct. There were lots of little girls with glittery hair bows and sparkly purses.

Unfortunately, there were also lots of booths selling such items. I halted at the end of the row, discouraged. “Look at the competition.”

“Indeed.”

A nearby booth had a large rack of bridesmaid dresses, all marked down to rock-bottom prices. I browsed through them, ideas exploding like fireworks. We could buy them cheap and sell them for so much more, but not while my mother feared pressure.

I spun around, eager to get away from temptation, when my gaze landed on a HUGE MARKDOWNS sign. Beneath lay dozens of canvas sneakers, in all sizes and colors. I walked over and picked up a tiny pair in rose pink, no bigger than the palm of my hand. I’d had a pair like this when I was in kindergarten, except mine had been covered in sequins and tied together with lace shoestrings. They had been my mother’s creation. My friends had been jealous.

Excitement punched me in the gut. “Here’s the project.” I held up the tiny pink sneakers.

“What?”

“Adorable shoes.” I showed a wad of cash to the seller sitting behind the table. “How much can I get for this?”

An hour later, Grant and I stood beside the worktable in the studio, assessing two dozen pairs of toddler shoes. I only had a few bucks left and still needed to buy fabric paint, glitter glue, and sparkly jewels. But it would work, because it had to. I was investing our entire emergency fund in this project.

The decision was behind me. It was time to dream up the possibilities. I studied the shoes.

“Chief, am I to participate in the production line?”

“You are essential to the success of this operation. It’s a
joint
project.”

He smiled. “I don’t care much for joint projects.”

“If I ask, you have to obey.”

“I’m aware of the rules, Mistress.”

I ignored his sarcasm. Nothing could burst my bubble. “This is going to be fun. My designs. Your execution.”

“Is it today’s wish?”

“Tomorrow’s. I have to get supplies and make some drawings.” There could be themes. Ladybugs and butterflies for tiny scientists. Tiaras and kissable frogs for the little princesses. Cupcakes and ice cream cones for the dessert fans like me.

“What will I do today?”

I had to focus. Something for
Mr. Impatient
. “I’m still thinking. Maybe we could finish restoring the music box.”

“Why?”

So many questions. “To give you a nice place to live.”

“I already have a nice place to live.” He flipped open the lid and pointed at the church. “Would you like to see inside?”

Could that possibly mean what I thought? “Inside the church?”

“Yes.”

“Wouldn’t that take magic?”

“I
wish
to give you a tour.”

Was he actually offering to show me inside? To shrink me to the size of a grape seed? I gazed into the depths of the music box at the frozen lake and the church with its arched black doors, stained glass windows, and tiny steeple. “I would love to see inside.”

“Then take my hand and close your eyes. The process is not pretty.”

“What process?” I grasped his hand as ordered.

“The blue smoke. If you want to return in the same shape you leave, you must be completely still.”

“I will.”

There was a deafening roar. Intense pressure. Brightness searing my eyelids.

In a split second, it was over.

“We have arrived.”

My eyes opened. I stood in the most color-free place I’d ever been. Everything was white or black. There were white walls with white floors, warm against my feet. Black beanbag-like furniture clustered around velvety black rugs. It was like I’d stepped into the middle of a rerun of
The Twilight Zone
.

The interior of the church was one big room. We were in the living space, our backs to the tall arched doors. There appeared to be a sleeping space at the other end, with something resembling a kitchen in between.

I turned slowly. Even the stained-glass windows were dull from this perspective. “There’s no color.”

“I don’t tolerate color over lengthy periods of time.”

“But the white is so bright.”

“I’m not human. I don’t have the same reaction.”

“How do you handle it when you’re in my world?”

“I return here.”

Walking further into the living room, I pressed down on one of the beanbag things. It had a springy feel. The kitchen had glossy counters and a sink but no appliances or cabinets. There were letters stacked in a white mesh basket. Black cloth napkins and black dishes.