Page 13 of Save a Wish

I wandered over to the board, noting flyers for yard sales, advertisements for used cars, a brochure for house cleaning services, and an invitation to an All Hallow’s Eve Walk. Perhaps this board would be a good spot to let people know I’d be offering my services soon.

Patty had been right though. No accommodations were listed.

“I’ll keep an eye on this board then,” I said. “Thank you for the tip.”

Patty gave me a nod then Hank helped me pick out some groceries, which was a task I’d never done for myself. Typically, at the palace, we had staff for garnering food and staff for cooking food and staff for serving food and staff for cleaning up after the eating of the food. Some of the choices on the shelves of Patty’s downright baffled me.

I picked up a rectangular box from the shelf in front of me now. “Toaster pastries.” I glanced at Hank. “What are toaster pastries?”

Another glance passed between Hank and Patty before Hank said, “You put them in a toaster to heat them up. They have different fillings inside like strawberry, blueberry, cinnamon sugar. The outside is a cookie-like pastry.”

“They’re friggin’ delicious!” Patty hollered from the checkout counter. “The peanut butter and jelly one is my favorite.”

I scanned the shelf until I found the flavor she’d mentioned. “I should like to sample these.”

Hank held up the little basket he’d picked up to hold our intended purchases. “Get the cinnamon sugar ones too. They can pull double duty as a breakfast or a dessert item.”

I took his advice then we grabbed a few more essentials as Hank called them and made our way to Patty. I paid for the food and Patty loaded it all into two tote bags.

“You bring these bags each time you come here,” she said. “They’re reuseable. We don’t do those nasty plastic bags.”

“Got it.” I took the tote bags. “That’s smart.”

“Just doing our part for the environment,” Hank said. “Thanks, Patty. Have a good Sunday.”

“You too, Hank.” Patty’s gaze settled on me. “Nice meeting you, Sadie. I’m sure I’ll see you again because you’re going to get addicted to those toaster pastries. Trust me.” She offered me a friendly smile, which I returned, noting her aura was mostly in shape, except for something a little shadowed near her heart.

“Enjoy your day.” I followed Hank outside. “She seems nice.”

“Yeah, Patty’s great. I think she’s lived most of her life in that store though.” Hank led us back toward the hardware store and an old truck parked beside it. “She had twin boys that joined the Air Force. They both passed away about a year apart from each other, and her husband had also been a military man who met his demise in service. The store is all she’s got now.”

That explained the shadows near her heart. The poor woman. Maybe I could help her process her grief with my learned techniques. I’d love to try.

“Do you have any children?” I asked Hank after we climbed into his truck.

“I do. One daughter and a grandkid. Proud as heck of both of them.” He started the truck and eased onto the main road. “What’s your family like?”

Of course he would inquire. I shouldn’t have asked him such a personal question, but I liked Hank. He was easy to be around and he was taking care of me so nicely.

“My parents are . . . strict people,” I began. “And my home has many rules.”

“I see.” Hank grinned. “So you’re out on your own adventure, are you?”

“Yes. Exactly. My own adventure.” I loved that way of thinking of my situation. It was far better than regarding it as running away from obligations.

“Well, you picked a great place to do that, Sadie. Greenridge is a beautiful town and I bet you’ll find out who you really are here.”

“That is my hope.”

After a short drive, Hank turned onto a narrow dirt road that appeared to lead directly into the forest. Had I made a grave mistake in trusting that this man actually had a cabin? Orla and Fionn had warned me to keep my wits about me in a foreign land. Had I failed to heed that advice?

When mailboxes lining the dirt road came into view, however, the existence of other homes in the area became clear. My instincts about Hank had been right. He was a trustworthy person, truly intending to help me.

Most of the mailboxes had names painted on them. Marshall, Wright, Kimura, Alanso, Slater.

“Be wary of that last one there.” Hank pointed to the box marked Slater. “Town rumors suggest Jimmy Slater is sketchy.”

“Sketchy?”