Free Genuine Sweet by Faith Harkey

just . . . a visionary. And he thought big dreams and small towns didn’t mix.” She sighed. “Anyhow, Travis is pretty angry about his dad taking off—about everything, really.”
    â€œI noticed,” I told her.
    â€œIt’s not Travis’s fault. It hurts to have your own father set you aside.”
    â€œYeah. I reckon so.” Not that I’d know much about that.
    She shrugged. “And me, I’m pretty lonely. It’s hard to be a mother and a woman on one’s own.”
    â€œSure. Surely. Yes,” I agreed, trying to bring my thoughts back around to Miz Tromp’s quandary.
    â€œSo, this is my wish,” Miz Tromp went on. “I wish for a good man. A husband for me and a father for Travis. As you well know, there are but a few single men in this town—” She made a face.
    I couldn’t help thinking that she was thinking of my father.
    â€œâ€”so I’ve long known my chances of finding Mister Right in Sass are pretty slim. Maybe he’d be a new customer or something. I’m not sure how it would work. That part I guess I’d leave up to you.” Miz Tromp paused. “Think you can do it?”
    I took a deep breath. “There’s only one way to find out.”
    Reaching into my pack, I revealed one of the wish biscuits. “A fine husband for Miz Tromp and a good father to Travis,” I whispered to the baked good.
    I waited a few seconds to let the magic sink in, then I slid the biscuit over to Travis’s ma. She looked at it, apparently a mite confused.
    â€œYou have to eat it,” I told her.
    â€œNow?” she asked.
    â€œThe sooner the better, if you want your man.”
    She gave a little laugh, then took the biscuit in hand. When she bit into it, her eyes brightened. “Dog my cats, Genuine! This is muh-muh-muh!” That last word was muddled by her chewing.
    â€œGlad you like it.” I smiled. “Now, I expect things
could
start happening pretty soon, but be patient, all right? I’m still figuring out how this works. It might take some time for the stars to arrange things like traffic detours and whatnot, to get your man here.”
    â€œI’ve been patient this long,” she conceded.
    A certain tightness that I hadn’t noticed in her before suddenly loosened. As she was gathering up her keys and getting ready to go, she stopped and said, “It’s probably not my place to say this, but . . . boys being how they are . . .”
    â€œMa’am?”
    â€œMy Travis is real fond of you—”
    I held up my hand. “Miz Tromp, I like you very much. Enough to be honest with you, so here it is. Travis is as rude and contrary as they come. No girl in her right mind would put up with his
baby
s and
sugar
s. And the way he treats people—!” I didn’t spell it out, for kindness’ sake. She understood me. “But I am sorry that his daddy’s leaving hurt him so much.”
    Strangely, my words didn’t seem to bother her at all. “You’re a smart girl, Genuine Sweet. You let me know how that wish progresses, all right?”
    Just as Miz Tromp was saying her thank-yous and farewells, Handyman Joe came strolling in. Not even troubling to sit, he offered me two full days of labor on the house—plus materials—provided I could locate an old army medal of his father’s.
    â€œI don’t know if it was stole or just lost, but if you could turn it up for me, I’d be real grateful,” he said. “It’s all I have of him.”
    I thought of a necklace I had that used to be my ma’s, a gold chain with a charm, a star inside a star. If I ever lost it, I’d be heartbroken. Even in the worst, most empty-bellied days, I’d never once considered selling it.
    I whispered to one of the wish biscuits and gave it to Joe.
    â€œI get the medal and a biscuit, too?” he asked.
    I gave him a