Mad About You

instructed a wizard to banish me to the lamp." He grinned his gap-toothed grin. "For freeing me, my gift is to grant you three wishes. I have already granted wishes one and two."
    Sweat gathered around Ladden's hairline. "Jog my memory. What were wishes one and two?"
    "Why the market space next to yours, of course. And the message to your princess." Gene shrugged his thin shoulders. "I did not understand the term crazy, but I simply used your words, Master."
    The hair rose on the back of Ladden's neck as he remembered the words he had spoken aloud in the cab of his truck... alone. Mrs. Pickney's decision to deed him her storefront was undoubtedly a coincidence, but the message on the billboards...
    "How did you know what my words were?"
    "You spoke them aloud."
    "But I was in my truck."
    "I was with you."
    Ladden's shoulders sagged in relief. The senile man had probably crept into the back of his truck to sleep and had overheard his comment about Jasmine. He nearly laughed aloud—the man almost had him believing he was some kind of supernatural being. "You should have checked with me before you bought those billboards. They cost you a lot of money."
    Gene shook his head. "It is only paper—I print great quantities."
    Great, he's not rich—he's a counterfeiter. They'll be coming after me to collect, or imprison.
    Sure enough, the man reached into his pants pocket and withdrew a thick stack of crisp one hundred dollar bills. "Do you want money?"
    "No!" Ladden held up his hand. "And put that away, unless you want to get mugged."
    "Mugged?"
    "Robbed."
    "Ah, thieves. My carpet and I used to give them chase in the marketplace."
    Ladden’s throat convulsed. "C-carpet?"
    Nodding, Gene said, "He was a good friend in the olden times—not in this United States of America, but in another land, where it is much warmer, and the scent of spices fill the air."
    "This rug... what does it look like?"
    He squinted. "The color of berries, black around the edge." The old man shrugged. "That is all I remember. It has been a long time."
    "Does it have fringe?"
    His eyes bugged and he lurched forward. "Yes! Have you seen this carpet?"
    Ladden gripped his coffee cup hard. "There is a rug of that description at my store."
    "Where did you purchase it?"
    "At the same auction I bought the lamp you referred to earlier."
    A glow bathed the man's wrinkled face and his eyes shone. "My friend watched over me all these years."
    With one quick motion, Ladden tossed down the last of the coffee. The story the man told was just too preposterous to believe. The old man must have seen the rug when he'd stolen the stationery envelope, and now seized the opportunity to embellish his fantasy with another detail... or perhaps the unstable man simply wanted to get his hands on the carpet and had fabricated the entire story.
    "I am glad you have the carpet, Master," Gene said. "It is proper."
    "I happen to agree, since I paid for it."
    "Has your princess seen the carpet?"
    "Jasmine? Yes, she's seen it."
    Gene winked at him. "Do not worry. The carpet will help you gain favor with your lady."
    Increasingly impatient with the man's rambling, Ladden tossed a couple of bills on the table. "Do you remember enough about the earthqua—I mean, the ground shaking, that you could tell someone else about it?"
    The man nodded. "I will try, Master."
    "Good. Let's go." He led the man toward the door. "And please don't call me Master."
    "Yes, Master."

    * * *

    Two hours later, with a raging headache and heavy steps, Ladden unlocked the front door of his business. The old man had been worse than useless during their visit to Saul Tydwell's office. Even with much prompting from Ladden, his story had sounded sketchy, and his constant references to Ladden as Master on top of his ancient-sounding dialect had left Saul's face frozen in a mask of skepticism.
    Ladden rummaged behind the big counter until he found a bottle of painkiller that hadn't expired. After swallowing two tablets with no water, he leaned on the counter and watched a butterfly explore a section of the smooth surface. He didn't dare look at the rug. He didn't even want to think about it. Besides, if he were going to reopen for business tomorrow, he needed to finish cleaning.
    He grabbed the broom just as the phone rang. He was grateful for the distraction. "Hello?"
    "Ladden, this is Betsy. I need your help."
    At the sound of his housecleaner's voice, he relaxed slightly. "Is something wrong at my