Turn My World Around (Wishful 6)

“Could I borrow your phone to check?” Corinne held up her dumb phone. She hadn’t been able to afford anything with a data plan.

Malika handed over the iPhone. Nerves danced in Corinne’s belly as she logged into her own account on the student portal and scrolled to check her grades. Her breath wooshed out.

“All A’s.” She’d been terrified with all the extra hours she was pulling at the diner that she’d tank her classes.

“Damn, girl! You kickin’ my ass. Making my A’s and B’s look shabby.”

Corinne handed the phone back. “The important thing is we’re both officially graduating!”

The pair of them executed a little happy dance, ending with a hip bump and a tight hug.

“Come by the diner to see me, now, you hear?” Corinne ordered. “I’ll be there until I finish my test and find something else. We can get in some more study sessions for the NCLEX.”

“I will. See you on the flip side.”

With a wave, Malika slid into her little Nissan and headed out. Corinne took a long look at Wilton Memorial Hospital before climbing into her ancient Toyota and pointing toward downtown Wishful.

The town green was edging more toward brown in the late summer heat. Rather than parking behind the diner as usual, she took a space across from City Hall. She felt foolish as she made her way up the path to the huge fountain that was the town’s pride and joy. Over a hundred and fifty years old, the fountain was central to Wishful’s identity. People came from far and wide to toss a coin into the basin and make a wish. Fed by nearby Hope Springs, local legend had it that most of them came true—though not always the way the wisher expected.

Corinne had never been one for wishes. But under the circumstances, she didn’t think it could possibly hurt. Standing at the edge, she dug in her purse for a coin. The biggest one in the handful she pulled out was a nickel.

Well, nobody ever said denomination counted.

Holding the coin tight, she pressed her fist over her heart. I wish for the chance to be seen as who I am now, not who I used to be. Please don’t let my past mistakes negatively impact my son.

She tossed the nickel. It flipped end-over-end, flying through the air to ping off the central stone pedestal, before dropping into the water with a splash.

Well, that was that. She’d finished her LPN classes with a 4.0. She’d finished her clinical hours. And she’d made a wish of the Universe. The only thing left to do was study her butt off for her certification exam. With one last look at the fountain, she turned toward the diner with a bit more of a spring in her step.

Chapter 2

Tucker timed his visit to Dinner Belles when he knew Corinne wouldn’t be on shift. He chose to believe the fact that he knew this was simply due to his superior powers of observation and frequent patronage of the diner, rather than a slight edge toward stalker behavior. The Saturday lunch crowd was thinning. He scanned the restaurant, nodding at a few clients and former classmates. None of his friends were here, and thank God for it. He didn’t want any opining from the peanut gallery regarding what he was about to do.

Squaring his shoulders, he headed for the counter.

“Tucker McGee!”

His feet did an automatic redirect at the hail before he’d registered who the speaker was.

Aw hell. The Casserole Patrol. The trio of elderly women, who provided home-cooked sustenance to everyone in town in the name of joy, illness, or sorrow, were clustered in a corner booth. Empty plates with crumbs of pie crust were shoved to the center of the table, testament to the sugar fueling their current knitting session. Skeins of yarn spilled over their laps, needles clack clacking away, except for Betty Monroe, who’d paused to crook her finger in his direction.

“Afternoon Miss Betty. Miss Delia. Miss Maudie Bell.” Tucker nodded to each of the women in turn.

“Hear you’re dancing in this newfangled fundraiser Norah’s cooked up,” Miss Betty said.

Word traveled fast. He suspected Norah had done everything she could to make it travel faster. For a transplant, she’d certainly learned how to make the most of the local grapevine.

“Yes ma’am. You heard right.”

“Who’s your partner?” Miss Delia wanted to know. The Casserole Patrol’s favorite pastime was poking into everybody’s love life. He’d heard a rumor earlier this summer that they were trying to talk Norah’s old intern into teaching them how to blog so they could put in for a weekly column in the local paper. So far Myles was maintaining a firm “No” in his editorial capacity at The Observer, but Tucker only gave him another few months before they wore him down.

“Don’t know yet. I’m here to sweet talk Mama Pearl into joining the competition. Norah wants to showcase some of the major business owners in town.” The truth. It’s always safest to stick to the truth.

Miss Maudie Bell pouted. “When’s she gonna do a good bachelor auction? Got all these handsome, single men floating around town that need to find a good woman.”

“You just want to win the bid so you can have one of them work shirtless in your yard for your ogling pleasure,” Delia cackled.

“Well, why not get some fun out of things until they manage to find that good woman?” Miss Maudie Bell sniffed.