Opal Taylor added red currant jelly to her line of jams and marmalades, but she makes it only when it suits her and only when red currants are in season. Millicent forgave Opal for snapping at her during the mail-order fiasco, but when Opal offered her a selection of her sweet wares by way of an apology, Millicent refused politely, for the sake of her back tooth.
Henry Cook’s one-nighter was canceled, as was Sally Pyne’s appearance on the cover of Cozy Cookery magazine. They resumed their normal routine as if fame had never beckoned and were married in St. George’s church in August. A few clouds passed overhead as they were entering the church, a toddler began to wail halfway through the ceremony, and some of the guests at the reception had a bit more to drink than was absolutely necessary, but on the whole, it was as perfect a wedding day as anyone, including Selena Buxton, could have wished for.
Miranda Morrow’s bottles of well water enhanced her reputation as a healer. Bill credited the placebo effect while I gave the nod to Miranda’s skills as a massage therapist. Whatever the case, the patients she treated for rheumatism, lumbago, and assorted aches and strains found relief in her ministrations.
George Wetherhead won a prize for an essay he wrote about his locomotive. Peter and Cassie moved into their flat in Anscombe Manor before the paint in the nursery was quite dry. Emma transformed Mr. Huggins’s wilderness into an attractive haven for wildlife, then turned her attention to her own garden, which had suffered several years of benign neglect.
Mr. Barlow built a new pergola, a new trellis, and five new bird tables for Ivy Cottage, without hitting himself even once with a hammer. He repaired the tumbledown stone wall as well, but he didn’t forget his regular duties. Despite the extra workload, he kept the church and the churchyard in tip-top shape and he responded promptly to any odd-job emergency that cropped up.
Bree admitted to duping me with her astonishingly accurate guesses about the wishes made by the wishing well’s nocturnal visitors. Her guesses weren’t, in retrospect, astonishing because they hadn’t been guesses. Jack had taken her into his confidence by then and she’d known exactly what Charles and Peggy and Henry had said to the old well. Though she’d promised to keep Jack’s secret, she’d been unable to resist having a little fun with me as we’d cycled together along the sun-dappled lane.
Bree isn’t starved for companions her own age anymore. Jack, Peter, and Cassie are in and out of the redbrick house constantly, planning expeditions, having meals together, or simply hanging out. Jack has put his conservation work on hold in order to make extensive repairs to Ivy Cottage’s roof. He continues to reel Bree in with a lightness of touch that would have made Hector Huggins proud.
Mr. Huggins’s grave is never without flowers.
“Mr. Huggins paid attention to his six-year-old nephew,” I said, “and he paid attention to us.”
The study was still and silent. A fire roared in the hearth, keeping the chill of a damp October night at bay. Bill, Will, and Rob had been asleep for hours, but I’d come downstairs for a cup of hot milk and a chat with Aunt Dimity. I smiled at Reginald, then looked down at the blue journal as the familiar lines of royal-blue ink continued to curl and loop across the page.
Hector Huggins was an extremely observant man. He watched his neighbors as closely as he watched the birds, bugs, and beasts in his gardens, and he treated them with the same respect, the same tenderness. He paid you and the rest of the villagers the profound compliment of finding you endlessly fascinating.
“Too bad his plan went so badly awry,” I said.
His plan worked out perfectly, Lori. Everyone’s wish was granted. It was up to each individual to determine whether a wish-come-true was a blessing or a curse.
“George’s locomotive was a blessing,” I said. “And Sally’s brush with celebrity was definitely a curse.”
Was it a curse, I wonder? Sally, Henry, and Peggy came away from the experience with a renewed appreciation of the many gifts life has bestowed upon them. The same could be said for Elspeth Binney, Opal Taylor, Charles Bellingham, and Mr. Barlow, among others. Perhaps a wish granted, whether it turns out as we expect it to or not, teaches each of us what we truly value.
“I wish we’d valued Hector Huggins while he was alive,” I said. “Bree was wrong when she said he had no friends, Dimity. We were all his friends. We just didn’t know it.” I shifted to a more comfortable position in the chair. “Though I still find it difficult to forgive him for keeping me off Betsy. If Mr. Huggins hadn’t granted Mr. Barlow’s wish, I wouldn’t have mashed my thumb. I lost a month’s cycling, thanks to him, and I won’t be allowed to ride her again until next spring.”
Is Bill still wrapping you in cotton wool?
“He’d wheel me around in a wheelchair if I let him,” I said. “I think he still feels guilty for keeping me in the dark after the doctor fixed my thumb. I don’t blame him, though. I was so weak and woozy I wouldn’t have understood what he was trying to tell me. Though my bouts of nausea should have tipped me off.”
The blood tests did turn up an unanticipated result.
I put my hand on my swelling belly as its current occupant shifted to a more comfortable position.
“A wish come true for both of us,” I said, smiling. “Bill still swears he never went near the wishing well, but I’m not sure I believe him.”
You and Bill don’t need a wishing well to make your dreams come true, Lori.
“No, we don’t,” I said, and my smile grew as the baby moved again. “All we needed was a magnificent stroke of good luck.”
Sally Pyne’s Summer Pudding
Serves 6
Ingredients
7 slices white bread
Soft butter (do not substitute margarine!)
3 cups berries (raspberries or blueberries or blackberries work well)
½–⅔ cup sugar (adjust according to the sweetness of the berries)
⅓ cup water
heavy cream (optional)
Directions
Butter each slice of bread lightly on one side. Set one buttered slice aside. Line a 3- to 4-cup bowl with the remaining slices, butter side out. Fill the gaps with buttered bread trimmed to fit so the bowl is completely lined.
In a medium saucepan, cook the berries with the sugar and ⅓ cup water for 10 minutes. Pour cooked berries into the bread-lined bowl.
Place the reserved slice of bread on top and fold the edges of the outer slices over to meet. Place a saucer on top and press down, to infuse the bread with the berry juice. Pour off excess juice to serve with the pudding.
Chill at least 6 hours before serving.
Serve in a bowl with heavy cream and a drizzle of the excess juice. (The heavy cream isn’t required, but it’s highly recommended!)
Aunt Dimity and the Wishing Well Page 22