Total pages in book: 68
Estimated words: 65042 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 325(@200wpm)___ 260(@250wpm)___ 217(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 65042 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 325(@200wpm)___ 260(@250wpm)___ 217(@300wpm)
“Well then, you must be a witch. She’s been here from the beginning—she knows a witch when she sees one,” he said gravely. “Ah—here we are.”
We turned the corner into another aisle full of items and I saw a few familiar products this time. There were cereal boxes and condiments—including the brand of mayonnaise I liked.
As we passed a shelf stacked with jars and tins, I heard a dry whisper:
"You don’t want tuna—try the chicken…"
I froze.
“Did…someone say something?”
The shelf to my left rustled.
"Try the chicken. It’s in brine. Very moist."
I blinked at it. Was it…talking to me?
“Oh, don’t bother with that lot,” Goodman Kreeches said cheerfully. “These shelves are downright bossy if you let them be. You get what you want and don’t pay them any mind.”
I stared at the shelf, which had gone suspiciously quiet. It held familiar cans of both chicken and tuna—including the dolphin safe kind I always bought.
“All right,” I muttered. “Tuna it is.”
We reached a small section where cans of Campbell’s soup, Cheerios, peanut butter, and other familiar comforts sat beside more magical fare. There were also some spices and seasonings—a few familiar like cinnamon and thyme and salt and pepper—and a few more exotic sounding. Hummingbird dust, read one cannister. Pixie parmesan, read another.
I looked through them all, but didn’t see my favorite seasoning blend.
“Do you have Nature’s Seasons?” I asked Goodman Kreeches, who was hovering nearby. “It’s this spice blend I use on practically everything.”
The ghost shook his head sorrowfully.
“I’m afraid not, my dear. We can’t bring everything from the human world—wouldn’t have room to stock it all. Though I am considering getting some magical expanding shelves that can store a lot more in a much smaller space. They miniaturize the stock and then, when you pick it up, it grows to full size in your hand!”
He spread his hands in a whoosh! motion, his faded eyes twinkling.
“That sounds great!” I said enthusiastically. “Where would you get those?”
“Well, they’re not actually very easy to come by,” he said, lowering his voice conspiratorially. “In fact, I’ve been thinking of going to the Wishing Tree tomorrow night to see if I can get some there. Lots of people are going, I think.”
This was the second time someone had mentioned the Wishing Tree to me, and my curiosity was definitely piqued.
“Really? How does it work?” I asked.
“Oh, you just go outside the town’s magic bubble and say, ‘Wish I may, wish I might, find the Wishing Tree tonight.’ It should appear right in front of you.” Goodman Kreeches waved one see-through hand, as though the matter was exceedingly simple.
“Does it really grant wishes, though?” I couldn’t quite keep the skepticism out of my voice. “I mean, it gives you anything you ask for?”
“Within limits,” Goodman Kreeches said. “It won’t give you money—so don’t ask for gold. But it will grant you a lot of other things. You only get one wish though, so be sure you list everything you want and where you want it put quite clearly.”
“Where you want it put?” I asked, frowning.
“Well yes,” he said, as though it was obvious. “You have to say, ‘I wish for such and so, and I want it to appear in my shop.’ Or house, or wherever. No sense in me asking for a shelving unit if it lands out in the woods and it’s too big to lift and get into the store.” He spread his hands. “Of course, I can’t lift anything at all anymore, but I do have my helpers. Not that I can bring them with me.”
“You can’t? Why not?” I asked.
“Oh, because you can’t go with anyone else—the Wishing Tree only sees one person at a time. Even if fifty folks go up together, they’ll all find themselves alone in front of it when they wish to see it,” he explained. “And you have to go after sunset, when the forest is dark. You won’t see it otherwise, no matter how hard you wish to.”
Alone in the dark forest, I thought, a small shiver curling down my spine. Even in a magical town, that sounded a little scary.
Still, I was already thinking about the list of things I’d need to open my own knitting shop. Yarn—hundreds of skeins in every color. Also knitting needles—wooden ones, metal, and acrylic. Measuring tapes…stitch markers…blocking mats…ball winders. Pattern books…project bags…pin cushions. A coffee and tea station for the knitters. Cozy chairs and a big round table for knit nights…
Could the Wishing Tree really give me all that? And deliver it right to my house like some kind of magical Amazon delivery driver?
It sounded too good to be true. But then again, everything about Hidden Hollow—including the fact that I’d inherited a magical cottage that looked after me—sounded improbable. But here I was.
“I’m going tomorrow night as soon as it gets dark,” Goodman Kreeches said, interrupting my thoughts. “I’m going to get that shelving unit—I’m not afraid. After all…” He gave me a wink. “I’m already a ghost.”