As You Wish

He frowned. "I thought her name was Buttercup."

"It is," Noreen said. "But I'm not exactly a princess."

"Right, and I'm not Westley." Ethan lifted Spike up. "This is Westley. You could take him on your horse and ride together like in the story."

It took some convincing, and by that, I mean it took very little convincing for Noreen to get on the horse. Before she agreed to it, she looked at me. "I'll take him on another ride if you want, Jeremy. But only if you're okay with it."

I glanced at the field. "Can you stay where I can see him?"

"Absolutely."

I swallowed and nodded. "Okay. Go for it. He's in excellent hands."

Something softly proud flickered on her face so quickly that I might have imagined it. She nodded and straightened her shoulders before leading Ethan back to the horses.

Just like before, I leaned against the fence and watched as they helped Ethan onto his horse. Unlike before, I didn't have Noreen there to talk to, which was both good and bad. Bad in that I'd really enjoyed talking to her. Good in that I got to watch as she got on her horse.

Wait, that might have been bad, too.

Her long, dark hair flowed down her back, bouncing slightly as she guided the horse confidently towards Ethan. It was undeniable that she was pretty; even more undeniable that she looked more relaxed than I'd ever seen her, and that made her even more gorgeous.

"So, son," Dad said, making me jump as he joined me, leaning against the fence. "How was your little chat with Kennedy?"

"Noreen," I muttered exasperatedly.

"I thought Kennedy was the one you liked."

"No, that was--no! It was neither of them. Stop implying shit."

"Don't fucking swear at your father," Mom said, joining us. "He just wants to know if you enjoyed spending time with that pretty girl you very obviously have a thing for."

"I don't have a--Jesus, will you guys let this go?"

Mom pressed her lips together, though it was to cover a laugh. "Sounds like we touched a nerve."

"You mean the nerve where you're talking about the woman who's granting wishes for my sick kid? That nerve?"

"Oh, it's not like she's his doctor or something," scoffed Dad. "She's a sexy little--"

"Fuck off," I said. "Don't talk about women like that. She's a person, not a friggin' fantasy."

"Touchy, touchy," Dad muttered, but he looked a bit ashamed.

"Drop it," I said. "I'm watching Ethan."

And thankfully, they did, even though Ethan was definitely not the only person I was watching.

9 - Noreen

"Save our seats and watch my stuff."

Inda smiled and shrugged while mouthing, "What?"

Sighing, I leaned closer. "Bathroom." I pointed towards the other side of the bar. "Watch my stuff." I pointed to my coat and purse.

She gave me a thumbs up.

I was seriously considering grabbing some toilet paper to ball up and put in my ears. Most karaoke nights are full of people who are more enthusiastic than talented. Some nights you get those people who have drunk too much to remember that they should never, ever sing in public. On the very worst nights, they all seem to find each other and show up at the same place, at the same time.

Welcome to Hell.

It was fine. I owed Inda and wanted to get out, so I was getting my drink on and trying to appreciate how impassioned the singers were. Yes, I could be a snob. I owned it. My saving grace was that I kept my opinions to myself, smiled, and applauded where appropriate.

Someone was ruining "Crazy Train" as I made my way to the bathroom, which probably had Ozzy spinning in his grave. That had to freak out Sharon, as he wasn't dead yet. By the time I got back to the table, Inda had a guy standing at our table. She looked up at me and gave a slight shake of her head.

If she wanted to get with someone, I would have given them some space. Instead, I sat down.

"Hi, I'm Noreen. Would it be horrible of me to ask you to give us a few minutes? We're going to do a couple of songs and I wanted to work out our set. We'll find you as soon as we're done."

He smiled a little sadly and was totally cool about it. "Sure."

"He was cute."

Inda looked up at me, an eyebrow raised. "Him? Sure. Not exactly some hot-cowboy-construction worker-super-dad type, but yeah, cute."

I had no idea what she was talking about. "What?"

She lifted her hand and I saw my phone, a picture of Ethan smiling ear to ear with Jeremy as they stood next to a horse. If you looked carefully, you could see Jeremy leaning away from the horse with a cautious look in his eye.

Jim must have sent one of the pictures he'd finished editing. She slid her thumb across the screen and another photo popped up of Ethan, Spike and Jeremy enjoying an MLT. Okay, Jim had sent more than one.

"Inda, you..." How could I say this gently? "There are privacy issues. Only employees, the photographer and the clients can see the pictures."

Putting the phone down, she slid it towards me. "Sure, I get it. Cute kid, though. That's his dad?"

"I... Seriously, I can't be talking about this."

"Understood. I totally respect where you're coming from. He looks like he could model for outdoor clothes stuff. Like, wearing jeans while swinging an axe. With no shirt. Rustic J. Crew meets Chippendales."

"Inda, I wasn't kidding. I can't talk about this."

She'd known me forever, she knew my type and she could read me like a book. Yes, Jeremy was cute, yes, he was my type and yes, I'd be interested if my life wasn't a mess and he wasn't a client. But he was a client. I was messed up. And he wasn't interested, so it was all moot.

"So, who's asking you to talk? I'm the one doing the talking. I didn't see a mom in the picture. Maybe he's into curvy Indian girls who like karaoke."

I laughed. "Yeah, maybe."

"Or maybe dark haired horseback riding girls who like karaoke?"

Rolling my eyes, I shook my head. "You're relentless. He's not my type." I looked to the stage, hoping she wouldn't call me out on my lie. "How far down the list are we?"

"We're next. And how on Earth is he not your type?"

"For one, he just isn't. Second, client's family is off limits. It's called professionalism."

She nodded. "Oh. Right. Totally get it. So, you can steer him my way? Or are you going to wait a few weeks until you quit and he's not your client or whatever?"

"Sure. I'll tell him that when he has a moment between being at the hospital with his son and trying to make extra money, my thirsty friend wants to get some. I'll get right on that."

"It wouldn't be the worst thing--"

The booming voice cut through the crowd. "Let's give Fred a big round of applause, folks. Up next, Noreen and Inda! C'mon up, ladies!"

I would have been grateful for anything that ended that conversation, but one that shut her up for a few minutes? Perfect. We were supposed to do one song, but the part time DJ and full-time bartender kept us up there for an extra. We were regulars, so we got some breaks. Neither of us was going to complain.

When I was singing, everything else fell to the side. No family issues, no work problems, no anxiety could compete with what I felt while singing. Being up there with my closest friend? Even better.

The next day, I arrived at the office bearing more TimBits for the staff and a scone from a local bakery for myself.

"Well, should I guess who woke up a little less of a grump this morning?"

Sighing, I forced a smile. "Good morning, Kennedy. Your raspberry-filled are in there. Anything new I need to know about?"

"My mother called all freaked out last night. She thinks her Botox guy hit a nerve and now she's always squinting."

"That's, uh, too bad. I sort of meant work stuff."

"Oh. Misha wants to see you as soon as you come in. She hired your replacement."

"Sort of burying the lede, Kennedy. Okay, Let me dump my stuff and I'll go see her."

"Burying what lead?"

"A lede is... Don't worry about it. Tell her I'll just need a few."

After a quick check of my email and two sips of my still-hot tea, I walked over to Misha's office. She was speaking with a tall, thin man. He was in his mid-forties and wore a suede jacket with a bolo tie.

Okay.

"Noreen! There you are. Come in. This is Michael Vanderwinkle. Today's his first day. He'll be shadowing you until around three, and then we'll be grabbing him to fill out some paperwork and watch a few videos."

"Great. Nice to meet you, Michael. Did you have breakfast? We have some coffee and tea in the break room and there should be some TimBits left."

"I'm ready to dig in, get my hands dirty, and help some children. Let's get to it, Laureen."

He was intense, but whatever. "Okay. Excellent. It's Noreen, by the way. Not a big deal."

Michael was a bright guy and caught on quickly. He kept moving his chair as we went over monthly, weekly, and daily checklists. I raised an eyebrow on his fifth move. He laughed lightly.

"Sorry. Trying to catch the angle of the sun. It's a cleansing energy and we could all use that these days."

"Sure. Um, so, anyway, we have an extensive list of volunteers, but our specialists are broken down by their fields. We try to have redundancy so we don't burn anyone out or in case they aren't available. I'm going to see if we can set up a lunch with Jim. He's our go-to photographer. I want you to get his perspective. If we had to pay him for what he does, well, I don't know. He donates tens of thousands of dollars' worth of photography every year and there are others just as dedicated. Building and maintaining relationships is key."

We spent the rest of the morning going over the mundanities of my job. He took notes and asked insightful questions, so I was guardedly optimistic. Jim met us at Benton's Steakhouse and we chatted while waiting for our drinks.

"Michael is going to be taking over my position in a couple of weeks. I'll be phasing out of my day-to-day duties and he'll be stepping in. I explained how you and some of our other volunteers are absolutely critical to what we do. Could you share some things from your perspective? What works for you, what doesn't, and how we can improve on our end?"

Michael jumped in. "There were photographers in the late 1800s who captured auras and chakras. Is that something you've experimented with?"

Jim smiled, confused. "I'm not following you. Did you mean can I add effects in editing? Sure."

"No, no, I meant actually capturing the auras, as, you know, shades of colours."

Jim looked at me nervously and shrugged. "Uh, no. I don't think so."

"That's a shame," Michael continued. "I have a doctorate in applied holistic neuro-synergies and I'll be using that to help the children with past lives regression therapy. Documenting their auras before and after would have been wonderful."

Jim and I looked at each other, open-mouthed. I was stunned.

"I'm not sure I'm understanding this properly. You're going to do what, now?"

"Most of our current ailments are residue from unresolved conflicts in a previous life. I'm happy to do what I can to help the kids, Noreen."

"Right. Interesting. Let's just finish up our lunch and head back to the office. Jim, maybe you could walk Michael through how we get you compensated if you have to lay out money for an event, like parking or tolls?"

As they spoke, I began texting Misha.

This guy is a loon. You're going to want to fire him. I'll explain when we get back. Might want to get paperwork ready. Thinks he can treat kids.

When we got back to the office, I asked Kennedy to talk to Michael about her job and what she does. Thankfully, guys like Kennedy. A lot. He was more than happy to listen to her prattle on and on while I spoke to Misha and then quietly made my way back to my office.

I was going to leave everything with Misha, and engage fully in my cowardice, but when I heard yelling, I hustled over. Michael was screaming and dramatically grabbed the folder on her desk and tossed the papers around. Finally calming down, he stormed out of the building.

Misha and I stared at each other in disbelief. "What if we announced Scone Thursdays? Every Thursday we have free scones in the break room. Will that get you to stay?"

I shook my head. "Sorry, no."

Misha got back to work and so did I. K1 Fitness had a rock-climbing wall, which was exactly what I needed. Getting their number off the internet, I called them.

"Hi, may I speak to a manager or the owner, please?"

"Sure. Hold on one sec."

There was a pause before someone else picked up.

"This is Marty."

"Hi, Marty. My name is Noreen Willow. I'm with The Wish Mission and I hoped you might be able to help us make a sick child very happy. Do you have a few minutes?"

Marty was the owner and extremely enthusiastic. His daughter was in all of her high school plays and helped with sets and props and he wanted to know if she could get involved. We spent an hour on the phone and everything looked promising.

That night I took my salad with grilled chicken breast and a glass of cabernet to the couch. Picking up the phone, I called Jeremy.

"Hi, this is Noreen. I know this isn't business hours. Am I interrupting anything?"

His voice was deep and he sounded happy. I usually pictured him as either tired or sad, so happy worked.

"Not at all. I'm at my parents' and Mom's teaching Ethan how to play rummy. Honestly, I'm glad to have the break and talk to an adult. What's going on?"

"Are you sure? I don't want to take you from your family."

"Nah, it's fine. Dad's watching Jeopardy and Mom's turning my son into a card shark."

I laughed. "Fair enough. I just had a couple of questions. If we wanted to get Ethan a Princess Bride or Wish Mission shirt, what size would he be? Seven?"

"Uh, yeah. Maybe a large six? It depends on the cut. Same with pants."

"Perfect. Thanks."

"Not a problem. So, what are you up to? Anything exciting? Help me out here. I finally have time to talk to a grown-up."

Smiling, I looked down at my meal. "How exciting is a salad?"

"Is it a good salad?"

I laughed again. "It's got grape tomatoes, croutons, and grilled chicken."

"In that case, terribly exciting. What else?"

"Um, some wine?"

"Alcohol? I remember alcohol. Pre-dads get to have alcohol. Is the wine any good?"

I took a sip. "Would it help if I said it was horrible?"

It was his turn to laugh. "No. Enjoy your wine, Noreen."

When we hung up, I was shocked to see that an hour had gone by.

I was back in the office early the next day. Misha sent me a file after lunch with applicant resumes and I spent some time going through that before deciding to call it a day. I gave Mom a call.

"Hey, I'm going to get some dinner and then buy some clothes for Ethan. Are you free?"

"Of course. I'll pull something out of the freezer for your father."

"Oh, praise the heavens. I was really worried he was going to starve without a casserole. Mom, you baby him. Let him make a sandwich or order something for delivery."

"Maybe I do it because I love my husband and it makes me happy to cook for him? Is that okay with you, Noreen?"

After all those years, my first reflex was always to take a shot at him. I sighed.

"Sure, Mom. Sorry. Taylor's Bistro in about an hour?"

"That will be fine."

We took her car from the restaurant. Mom wasn't a snob and if I bought her a tuna sandwich, she'd be just as happy as if we went to the best restaurant in town. But if she was paying and was making the choices, she didn't skimp. She heard my sigh as we pulled into the endless parking lot.

"What?"

"Mom, I was thinking Costco or Walmart."

"Holt Renfrew doesn't carry clothes all of a sudden?"

"They do. Lovely clothes. For a little boy at those prices? We can't afford that. There are months when we're lucky to find enough money to pay for the heating."

She gave me a sidelong look of disdain as she drove, as if such concerns were ludicrous. That's when I realized Ethan was going to get the Momma Willow treatment.

"Mom, I didn't ask you to come with me to pay."

"Shush. You don't think this is going to be the highlight of my week? Oh, look at that! It's fate!"

When Mom found someone pulling out of a spot near the door, she thought it was divine providence telling her to shop to her heart's content. We pulled into the vacant spot and she turned to me.

"Let me do this. If it makes you feel better, we can consider it an in-kind donation to the Wish Mission."

I took in a deep breath. Saying no to her was incredibly hard. "Okay."

"Now let's see a picture."

"I can't show you a picture. You know that. It's a client privacy issue."

"You're being ridiculous. I'm not a stranger or the public. Right now I'm a volunteer shopping for one of your clients. How am I supposed to buy clothes without knowing his colouring and look? How many volunteers have seen him in person?"

She had a point. And she was using her Mom voice. I showed her a picture.

"Goodness, Noreen. He's adorable."

Mom went full-on Crazed Grandma Mode. Ethan got six shirts, six pants, ten pairs of underwear, two jackets, one heavy coat, a pair of shoes, two pairs of sneakers and a package of socks. The pants and shirts were purchased in two sizes.

"I have his sizes from the costumes."

"I understand. He can grow into them."

"Mom..."

"If not, his mother can exchange them. Leave me be, Noreen. I'm in my element."

"His dad. The mom's not in the picture."

"Right. Poor thing. The father sounds nice. And he's certainly a handsome man."

"Which is apropos of what, exactly?"

"I was just saying. It doesn't have to be apropos of anything. Are you saying he's not?"

"Don't do this, Mom. Let's just get the clothes and head back."

"Fine, fine. I'm just saying he's a very handsome man. That's a crime?"

"Please. Let's just finish shopping."

She sniffed dramatically, put the pyjamas in the cart and we kept going. We were driving back to my car at the restaurant when she tried to be nonchalant.

"You know, you'll be free of the Wish Mission soon."

"Uh-huh."

"And there'll be no moral obligations regarding clients."

"Right."

"And their handsome fathers."

I rolled my eyes and watched the traffic go by. As annoying as she was, Mom wasn't wrong.

Misha didn't question me when I told her a volunteer purchased the clothes, but she did give me an odd look. She probably thought it was me. My grandparents' trust ensured that I didn't have any serious money issues, but I wasn't in that category of comfortable.

We had another day at the Sunflower Ranch. Miracle Jim insisted on being there, but he had to leave early for a paying gig. I had the MLTs from the deli ready and was placing the cooler on the picnic table when Jeremy arrived in his pickup. Ethan came bounding up, clutching a backpack.

"Noreen, did you see this?"

He pulled a stuffed horse from his backpack.

"Kennedy gave him to me. For Spike. Is she here?"

I kept the smile on my face. "No, sorry. Maybe next time."

No matter the age, men loved Kennedy.

His grandparents were in an older sedan behind the truck. Jeremy's mother stretched as she got out. I remembered how she winced and had issues after last week's riding and sympathized.

Jim had Ethan laughing in no time and Mrs. Collip had the Andalusians and two other horses ready. Times had changed. Phillip was guiding the ride and it seemed like he was one of only three employees. Everything looked smaller somehow. When I stabled Red here, the ranch was a place of adventure.

Things were a little worn, a little pale and a little scaled back. Mr. Collip mentioned his grandchildren at least three times while we waited for the riders to return. We spoke about their hobbies and how he Facetimed with them. The Collips had three children, none of whom were interested in taking over the family ranch.