Read I Wish for Free Online

the coast is clear?”
    “Yes, thank you.”
    I gestured around us. “This is the kitchen.” It looked like it had come straight out of a black-and-white movie. Checkerboard floor. Clean white cabinets. Really ancient and really cool, except for the appliances. They were older than me and way more stubborn.
    “Indeed.” He frowned at his mug, walked to the sink, poured half of it out, filled it with water, and fell in step behind me.
    Our next stop was the living room, with its bay window and brick fireplace. Across the foyer, the formal dining room waited, jammed with gloomy furniture. Down the back hallway, the two bedrooms sat behind closed doors, the messy room belonging to my mother and the clean one to Henry.
    Grant scanned the hallway, a confused crease to his brow. “Where do you sleep?”
    “In the attic.” I opened the narrow door in the wall behind me, led him up the steep stairs, and paused with him at the top to survey my room. There was my twin bed covered by a snow-white quilt and blood-red pillows. The wooden desk, a rug covering half of the hardwood floor, and my antique dresser were solid black. Behind the bed, Josh had covered an entire wall in whiteboard paint, so that I could draw and doodle from ceiling to floor. My room might be small, but it was perfect for me.
    If only it weren’t roasting in the afternoon heat. I crossed the room to switch on a floor fan and then turned to watch him. It had been months since anyone besides my family had been up here. I was curious to see his reaction.
    Grant took his time studying the space before wandering over to the keepsake shelf above my desk, and its collection of toy cars.
    “This space feels more like a haven than an ordinary bedroom.”
    “Thank you,” I said, warmed by the compliment. I’d worked hard to get my refuge exactly right.
    “That purple Mustang is a classic. How long did it take you to acquire this collection?”
    Wow. Next to Dad’s class ring, the toy cars were my favorite legacy from him. It was interesting that Grant had noticed. “I got them from my dad.” I walked back to the stairs. “Vehicle maintenance was his job in the Marine Corps. He could fix anything that moved.”
    When we returned to the kitchen, I half-sat on a cabinet while Grant stood before me, hands cradling his coffee mug.
    “It’s a fine house,” he said.
    I surveyed the room, half-proud, half-resentful. “We really can’t afford to live here. I’m trying to talk my mom into selling, but she won’t hear of it. She says, ‘My husband loved this house. We’ll stay. End of discussion.’”
    I hadn’t given up, though. If I could catch her in a lucid moment, when rational thought was in charge rather than emotion, I was going to change her mind. Not that I was in a hurry. The house wasn’t sellable in its present condition. That’s where the genie came in. Grant had better be as good as he said, because he was about to start some major home improvements.
    Since my BSB provided free labor but wouldn’t conjure up the supplies, I had to pick projects we could pay for out of limited funds. With the cash I got from Mrs. Bork, I’d decided to put aside three hundred dollars—two hundred to fix up the house and one hundred for emergencies. The rest of the frame-sale money would be applied to our credit card debt and monthly bills.
    With the renovation budget so small, I had to have a plan. A solid, detailed plan. And I wanted Mr. Perfectly Skilled to help me figure out how to squeeze the most out of my money. I fumbled in a drawer of the cabinet for paper and pen and then gestured toward the kitchen table. “Have a seat.”
    He took a sip of his coffee and grimaced. “Perhaps you could give me my next task.”
    “I wish you would sit down and help me with my wish list.”
    He closed his eyes briefly and sighed. “Do you realize you’ve just used up today’s wish?”
    “Of course I realize it.” As if I would be stupid enough to casually use