“Go ahead, sugar.” Faye gave me an encouraging bob of the head.
“Um,” I began. “So—I’m Genuine. Guess y’all know that. And, uh, I’m here to ask y’all to think on something in your lives that isn’t quite as fine as you’d like it to be. Maybe you’ve got more chores than you can manage. Or your bunions might be troubling you, and nothing but nothing will give you relief. Every one of us has things we need, you see. And that’s where I hope to be of, uh, service.”
I paused to give each lady some eye-to-eye contact.
“Not long ago, a woman needed work in Sass. Sass! you might say. There ain’t no work in Sass! And, of course, you’d be right. But I was able to help her out, and in less than three days’ time, she had her a job in town! How? you might ask.”
No one did ask, which deflated me some, but I went on. “By sending her to the day labor office? No, ma’am! I used my own special inheritance! I’m a fourth-generation wish fetcher, you see. And I believe I might be able to fetch you the special things your hearts are longing for! Now, uh—”
Here came the hard part. Could I really ask these women to pay me cash money for wishes? And if I did, could I really fetch the kinds of things they’d ask for? What if Jura’s ma’s job was a fluke? What if Dangerous Dale’s daughter turned out to be nothing more than a well-meaning yap-up? I almost stepped shamefacedly down off my box right then. But, all at once, I recalled Gram’s troubled expression as she studied that overdue bill. No! I determined. I would not go all feather-legged now!
I swallowed hard and went on. “For the reasonable price of twenty dollars, I’ll give you one of these here biscuits.” I held one up for display. “And through the power of my family shine, you will—almost certainly—very probably—I’m thinking the chances are real good that your wish will come true. And if it doesn’t, I swear I’ll refund your money! Give it a couple weeks first, though. Maybe a month, to be on the safe side. Um. Actually, I’m not sure how long a wish would take, if it was a hard one—”
I saw that I’d drifted downriver some, so I grabbed a paddle and rowed myself back. “Well. That’s all. Twenty dollars a wish, satisfaction guaranteed. Thank you kindly for your time.” I plastered on the biggest grin I could muster, curtsied, and hopped off the box.
“I tell you what I’d wish for!” Missus Hoover said at once. “That Reggie Booker would close his blame window blinds at night! Him and his new lady friend been working all kinds of hoodoo over there!”
“Hmmph,” grumped Penny Walton, turning her magazine pages with an angry flick. For some reason I couldn’t discern, she glared at me every now and again.
“Twenty dollars is a cheap price for a wish come true,” Faye said sagely. My cousin may not have understood the wish-fetching trade, but that didn’t stop her from trying to drum up a little business for me. Still, she did look a mite worried as she whispered in my direction, “You really can magic stuff up with those biscuits?”
“Yes, ma’am. I believe I can,” I replied.
Penny Walton pulled the hair dryer from her own head and stormed over.
“Who do you people think you are?” she snarled.
I looked over my shoulder for all those “people” she was referring to. No one was there. “Ma’am?”
“MacIntyres! Wish fetchers!” she caterwauled. Turning to Missuses Hoover and Kalweit, under the dryers, she added, “Don’t let her draw you into her schemes, girls! Her kind won’t bring anything but trouble!”
Faye stepped away from her work, poised to defend me, should things take a turn.
Penny Walton directed her dagger-eye my way. “You think I don’t recall the hopes Cristabel dredged up, then cast away? Think again!” She set a hand on her hip and poked a finger in my face. “You drop this flummery now, or I’ll put a stop to it!”
She marched out the door before Faye could finish shouting about the rollers still in Penny’s hair.
I sat for a time, not sure what to make of any of it.
Libby Kalweit, sitting under her hair dryer, said to Faye, “Switch this off, would you, honey?”
Once the dryer was off, Libby told me, “Don’t let Penny hurt your feelings none. If anyone should be ashamed, it’s the pot-stirrers who turned a sorrow into a spectacle.”
“What are you talking about, Libby?” Faye asked before I could.
Missus Kalweit glanced my way. “I don’t want to say too much. Make me just as bad as the muckrakers.”
When we kept silent, waiting for more, she went on, “All right. Without saying too much, poor Penny’s heart got broke. Bad. Still, the pain might have passed in time, were it not for her so-called friends poking at the sore places. Spreading lies, getting Penny all stirred up. Nobody believed the things those girls said about your mama, of course, but poor Cristabel still went home every day for a month, cryin’.”
“Hush now, Libby!” Missus Binset hissed. “There’s no call to go dredging up the past!”
“You hush! You’re just feelin’ guilty for how you and Penny fabled against poor Cristabel! Trying to rile folks up so they’d turn their backs on her!” Missus Kalweit said tartly. “Far as I’m concerned, there’s no fault in the MacIntyre line. Not a one of you!” she assured me. A few seconds later, she muttered, “Though your granny never charged money for her wishes.”
My gut twisted with a flash of anger. I wanted to say, What should I do, old woman, feed you with wishes while I starve? It took everything I had to remember that, thanks to Dilly Barker’s flour, I hadn’t had a single hunger pain in two days.
“Times change,” was all I said.