“I don’t see how you’re going to make that happen,” I said. “Jasper hasn’t made a wish.”
“Jasper Taxman may not have spoken his wish to the wishing well,” said Jack, “but he muttered it many times at the Emporium, when Peggy was out of earshot. Uncle Hector heard him.”
“Wait a minute,” I said slowly, as something Jasper had said returned to me. “I may have heard him, too. Jasper told me that, if he had made a wish, it would have been for his wife to be content with what she has.”
“You and Uncle Hector heard the same thing,” said Jack. “Uncle Hector decided that the only way to grant Jasper’s wish was to give Peggy the tearoom so she could see for herself that it was too much for her.” Jack grinned. “I have to hand it to my uncle. He knew exactly what would happen. He knew Sally’s success would ruffle Peggy’s feathers, just as he knew that Peggy’s domineering personality would cloud her judgment.”
“Peggy saw what she wanted to see on the flyer,” I put in, “and Sally was too angry to double-check Peggy’s so-called facts. If Sally had taken the time to make one phone call to her landlord, she would have realized that her building wasn’t for sale.”
“Instead, Sally stomped off in a huff, giving Peggy the chance to make a shambles of her brief tenure as a pastry chef,” said Jack. “Jasper’s wish has come true, by the way. I overheard him chatting with Bill tonight. Peggy has given up her expansionist dreams and will henceforth focus her energy on improving the Emporium, the greengrocer’s shop, and the post office.”
“Lucky old post office,” I said, rolling my eyes. “But what about Sally? Has she spoken with the landlord?”
“She has,” said Jack. “More importantly, she’s spoken with Henry.”
“And?” I said impatiently.
“And she will begin baking her fantastic pastries again as soon as the new oven is installed,” said Jack. “Once Henry finishes cleaning up the mess Peggy left behind, he’ll return to his role as the chap who tells funny stories in the tearoom.”
“No wonder Bill sounded so happy when he called me from the party,” I said. “He knows where his next jelly doughnut is coming from. Did Sally or Henry mention their wedding? Is the church wedding back on?”
“It is,” said Jack. “I can’t guarantee fine weather or control the guests’ behavior, but after everything that’s happened, I think Selena Buxton will regard a wedding at St. George’s as a wish granted.”
I smiled and we sat in silence until another gap in the puzzle occurred to me.
“What about Millicent’s back tooth?” I said. “And my rant against the rain? Your uncle’s encyclopedic knowledge of Finch wouldn’t have made it possible for him to grant those wishes.”
“They were the most magnificent strokes of luck,” said Jack, “not least because of their timing. Your wish-come-true got the ball rolling and Millicent’s helped to speed it along. No one, not even Uncle Hector, could have orchestrated it. It was luck, pure luck.”
“You call it luck,” I said glumly. “I call it a waste of a wish. I should have wished for . . . for . . .” My voice faded as a jolt of childish superstition overwhelmed my common sense. Since I couldn’t say my real wish aloud for fear of jinxing it, I invented another one on the spot. “I should have wished for the ability to aim a hammer accurately.”
I spoke lightheartedly, but Jack began to apologize all over again, so I changed the subject.
“Some villagers haven’t visited the wishing well yet,” I pointed out, thinking of Christine and Dick Peacock, among others.
“I know,” said Jack. “Why do you think I asked you and Bree to examine the stonework so minutely? Why do you think I welcomed Emma’s master plan for the gardens? I was buying time. I wanted to give everyone a chance to make a wish. If we’d finished the gardens, I would have found something wrong with the cottage. I would have stayed until the last wish was granted, because that’s what Uncle Hector asked me to do.” He sighed. “But I don’t reckon I’ll get to see his plan through to the end.”
“Why not?” I asked.
“You said it yourself when I drove you home from Uncle Hector’s funeral luncheon,” he replied. “There are no secrets in Finch. Now that you and Bree know the truth, you won’t be able to keep it to yourselves. One of you will come out with it accidentally and it’ll be all over the village before you can blink. Uncle Hector warned me about the village grapevine. He described it as the most efficient mode of communication known to humankind.” Jack shook his head sadly. “No, Lori, I reckon my wish-granting days are over.”
“How close are you to finishing your work on the memoir?” I asked.
“Pretty close,” he said.
“If I were you, I’d spin it out for as long as I could,” I said. “Courtships take time, especially if a bloke is courting a girl as complicated as Bree.”
Jack’s mouth fell open, then curled into a sheepish grin.