Page 70 of Your Every Wish
“Okay, let me start over—what’s in the bag?” I say between gritted teeth.
“The end to your troubles, my dear girl.” She rests her cup in a saucer on the coffee table and gets to her feet. “Break time is over. This dress isn’t going to make itself.”
“Misty, we really need your help here,” Emma says in that soothing voice of hers. The one I imagine she writes in when she’s giving advice. “We realize that Kennedy’s problems don’t amount to those of a parent of a missing child, but she owes a man a lot of money. And if she doesn’t return that money to him within ten days, she’s . . . well, she’s toast. All we’re trying to determine is whether our late father hid some money somewhere, money that can be used to pay off Kennedy’s debt. I personally don’t think there is any hidden money. But perhaps if you tell Kennedy that, she can move on, and we can make other arrangements.”
That’s the thing. There are no other arrangements or options. Hidden money is my last resort. I’m stooping so low that I’m here, sitting in the middle of a double-wide, drinking coffee that I don’t want, begging a woman who claims to be a universal diviner to save my ass.
“There’s hidden money,” Misty says. “A lot of it. More than you can possibly imagine.”
My head pops up like a jack-in-the-box. Meeting Misty’s eyes, I try to gauge whether she’s bullshitting us, whether this is her idea of a prank. But I see no artifice there, no sleight of hand, no tell.
“How do you know?” Emma is the first to ask, echoing my own thoughts.
Show us proof.
“I’ve seen it multiple times,” she says so matter-of-factly that only the best con could carry off her earnestness. “First in a dream and then in visions. Like when Kennedy called me from his house. I saw it clear as day.”
“The money or the golf bag?” I say.
“Both. I haven’t figured out if they’re one and the same or separate. But they’re related.”
“And you saw them both at his house in La Jolla?”
“That’s where it gets fuzzy.”
I let out an audible sigh. She’s all over the map, one minute confident, the next minute “fuzzy.”
“Do you think you can lead us in the right direction?” Emma asks.
She plops back down into the easy chair. “And what’s in it for me? A missing child is one thing, helping you get rich is another. ”
“We’ll give you a share of the money,” I blurt, ready to promise anything.
“I don’t want your money. But there is something I do want.” She lets the words settle in the air for full effect. “In exchange for helping you, you have to promise not to sell Cedar Pines.”
“Ever?” Because that’s a mighty long time to be saddled with a useless trailer park that needs a shit lot of work.
I see her mind working as she ponders the question. “At least five years for one wish, ten years for two. All right, I’ll make it three. But that’s it.”
Does she think I’m fucking Aladdin?
“What if you’re wrong and the money doesn’t exist, and we don’t get rich?” I want to hedge my bets before I make any promises. Five years to hang onto this place is a big commitment. “Then the deal is off, right? We can sell before five years.”
“Then the deal is off,” she agrees.
“Wait a minute,” Emma says. “You said ten years.”
“That’s only if you go with the twofer. Okay, technically it’s a threefer because I threw in the third wish free of charge. Think of it as a baker’s dozen.”
My foot accidently on purpose kicks Emma’s leg. All we need Misty to do is find the money. Five years for a fortune is a trade I’m willing to make.
“Make Dex love me,” Emma says. “Can you do that?”
“I can’t make anyone do anything. I’m not a sorceress. But I can get inside his head and find out what makes him tick. Hopefully that’ll help find the missing ingredient. But once I find that it’s for good.” She holds Emma’s gaze. “It’s potent stuff. He’ll love you forever.”
I smack my hand against my forehead. Five more years of this money pit for Dex. Emma can do so much better. “And if he doesn’t, then we’re off the hook for ten, right?”
“Right,” Misty says.
