The Secret Ingredient of Wishes Read Free Page B

creating a dense canopy overhead. The houses tucked back behind wide lawns were old and elegant, even as their faded paint and lopsided porches begged to be restored.
    She ran her fingers over the vines of honeysuckle clinging to the fence in front of one of them. The red, pink, and yellow flowers looked like flames licking along the wood fence. Their sweet perfume permeated the air.
    â€œYou lost?” a gravelly voice called.
    A gray-haired woman wearing an oversized men’s plaid shirt watched her from the front yard of an old Victorian-style house, leaning on a shovel handle. The spade sunk a few inches into the dark soil of a pepper patch.
    â€œNo gas,” Rachel replied. She stopped in front of the white fence, its paint blistering and peeling. “But now that you mention it, where am I exactly?”
    â€œDidn’t you see the sign? You’re in Nowhere, North Carolina. Home of the world’s largest lost and found.”
    â€œMust’ve missed it. Is it really home of the largest lost and found?”
    â€œAmong other things.” The woman walked toward her, limping slightly like she had a stitch in her side. “Catch Sisson,” she said, extending her gloved hand.
    The old woman’s firm grip surprised her. “Rachel.”
    â€œWell, Rachel-with-No-Gas, c’mon in. I’ll get someone over here to help you out.”
    â€œIt’s all right. I’ll just walk to the gas station.”
    â€œDon’t argue with me, girl. It’s a good two miles to the station and you look about to drop. Also, I don’t see a gas can in those hands of yours.” Catch flipped up the latch on the gate and flung it open, forcing Rachel to sidestep to avoid getting hit. The gate groaned as if sick of letting strangers in. “And I don’t want it on my head if you let yourself get hit by a car.”
    She followed Catch up the flagstone path. Moss sprouted between the stones and obscured the edges. It squished under her Toms. Deep-orange day lilies flanked the back of the flower bed and small purple flowers pushed through them on spindly green stems. A tree dripped with fist-sized peaches in the middle of the yard, scenting the air with a sweetness that made her stomach grumble.
    The house was three stories, with pale-teal clapboard and cedar shake siding and a turret that spiked up on the left. The white trim cracked and bubbled around the screen door.
    â€œSit down,” Catch said. She pointed to the pair of wooden rockers. The paisley cushions, faded and squashed flat, invited her to sit like so many others obviously had before her. “I’m gonna make a call. Would you like some pie?”
    Rachel shook her head, taking the chair closest to the stairs. When she leaned back, the chair smacked into the house with a sharp crack. She jumped up, reached a hand out to check for splintered wood.
    She settled for leaning against the porch railing. Unlike the house, the porch looked like it had been rebuilt within the last few years. The paint shone slick and even. The floorboards were firm under her feet.
    Catch’s raspy voice carried through the screen as she said to whomever she had called, “I’ve got a girl stranded over here. If that’s not enough incentive, I made a habanero peach pie this morning. I’d be willing to part with a slice or two in return.”
    The door slapped shut behind Catch a moment later when she came back out, rattling the thin windowpanes on either side of the door. The plate in her hand remained steady.
    â€œJust shove the rock back in place,” Catch said. She kicked the small stone back under the rocking chair runner and handed the slice of pie to Rachel with a smile that dared her to refuse it. “It’ll keep the chair from hitting the house again. It’s on Ashe’s to-do list, but damn if that boy doesn’t find a dozen other things to do when he’s here.”
    Sitting again, Rachel