“It was usually a big box of chocolates. But one year, one of the booth owners, Mrs. Preston from the knitting shop, was down with the flu and her booth was closed. Dad said to skip her on the card.”
“Let me guess. Billy didn’t do that.”
“No. He was eleven years old and—”
“Same age as you?”
“Yes. Same as Stacy and me. That year, Billy rode his bike miles into the country and banged on Mrs. Preston’s door until she got out of bed and answered it. She told him to go away but he insisted she sign his card.”
“Which made him the only one who had a full card.”
“Right. But when Dad gave him the box of chocolates, Billy said, ‘Is this all I get?’”
“Ungrateful, huh?”
“Very. But that was the first year that Mr. Stanley Cresnor was there.”
“Cresnor Industries. Billions.”
“Exactly. And he was in a bad mood because his wife had dragged him away from work for a vacation at a lake. He muttered, ‘What’d’ya want, kid?’”
“Ah,” Nate said. “Shortened to Widiwick?”
“Yes.”
“So what did young Billy ask a billionaire for? A jet?”
“No.” For a moment Terri looked into the distance and the way her eyes softened made Nate feel an emotion he hardly recognized: jealousy. If no one had told him that at one time Terri and Billy had been a couple, he would have known it then. “Billy asked to go to a big store in Richmond and buy all the toys he could put into a cart in four and a half minutes.”
Nate leaned back against his chair. “Wow. That is some ambitious kid.”
Terri smiled. “Mr. Cresnor was so amused by the idea that he agreed. I mean, how much could one kid get in four and half minutes, right? But he underestimated Billy.”
“I’m beginning to like this kid.”
“He’s one of a kind, that’s for sure. The event was to take place the next Saturday, so Billy used the week to organize our entire elementary school. He passed out maps and assigned kids places to be in the store. He got his dad to drive him to Richmond so he could talk to the store manager. The man was so intrigued that he advertised it in the newspaper and put a giant banner across the front of the store. He got a lot of press.”
“Did you help?” Nate asked.
“Oh yes. Billy put me in the section with the water toys. On the day, the store was packed with people. They were three-deep around the perimeter, but they let us kids run it all. Billy took a cart, the manager blew a whistle and Billy began running. We kids handed him toys that Billy put in the cart because—”
“That was the deal,” Nate said.
“Yes. Billy had to put them into a cart. Every few feet a kid shoved an empty basket forward and it was filled in seconds. I ran three carts to the register.”
“With all those toys, Billy must have been the most popular kid in town.”
Terri smiled softly. “He was, but not for that. It took forty-five minutes to ring everything up. The manager totaled the tabs and handed it to Billy. He climbed up on the checkout counter and read the number. It was a whopper! When the cheering stopped, Billy reached down, picked up a yo-yo and held it up. ‘This is mine,’ he said. Then he pulled a piece of paper out of his pocket and handed it to the manager. ‘The rest of this goes to them.’ There were four names on the list—an orphanage, a hospital, a women’s shelter and the local fire department.”
“Charity.” Nate’s voice held awe. “Was
that planned?”
“Only by Billy. He hadn’t told anyone what he was going to do, not even his parents. Everyone started dancing around, and I remember his mother crying. The press was there and they were so stunned they nearly forgot to take photos of it all. Billy was a hero!”
Nate took a moment to reply. “That’s some kid.”
“Yeah, he was.” She leaned back in her chair. “That’s how Widiwick started. Mr. Cresnor now comes to Lake Kissel every year and he grants a wish. Within reason, of course, and only to Summer Hill residents or he’d start a worldwide riot. And it’s become a custom that the wishes must be for someone else.”