Their Wander Canyon Wish. Allie Pleiter

       Chapter One

      Out of order?

      Seriously?

      Marilyn Sofitel couldn’t believe the sign hanging from the large closed door in front of her. In all the years she’d grown up in Wander Canyon, the carousel had never been out of order. The whimsical, dollar-a-ride merry-go-round was the town’s pride and joy, the unofficial symbol of the tiny Colorado community. Housed in a big red round barn in the center of town, it was the one thing she could always count on to be there.

      Not today. How could the carousel be broken? And on today of all days, when her girls had been clamoring for a ride and she’d finally made the time to give them one?

      Her daughter Maddie scowled at the closed door. “Aw. Why’s it shut, Mom?”

      Margie, Maddie’s twin, squinted at the handwritten words inked messily onto a scrap of wood. She tugged on Marilyn’s sleeve and looked up. “What’s that say?” At six and a half, the girls were starting to read, constantly pointing out and asking about words. Usually she took joy in their eagerness to read. Not this particular moment.

      Marilyn tried to keep the frustration out of her voice as she pointed to each of the words. “It says ‘Out of Order.’”

      “What’s that mean?” Maddie said, her jutting lower lip telling Marilyn she’d already guessed.

      Marilyn’s chest sank at the idea of disappointing her girls. “It means the carousel is broken.” After a sad second she added, “Today, at least,” as an attempt at optimism.

      She’d been an optimist once. A starry-eyed young woman who chose to see the best in everyone and every situation. And now, here she was, back in Wander Canyon with no idea of her future and two daughters who wouldn’t get to ride the carousel today.

      She fought the urge to groan. Or cry. Or both. Today was a beautiful June Thursday, the day she’d chosen to be her first day of a new start. The day she was dropping off her first resumé to start the search for a part-time job. What did it say that she couldn’t get even this tiny little thing to go her way? She was bone tired of everything in life feeling—and being—broken.

      Suddenly the big double doors pushed open, sending the sign swinging from its twine on a single nail.

      “It’s fixed!” Maddie cried. “It’s...”

      “Hold your horses there, little lady. It’s not quite fixed...yet.” A tall man with messy hair and dirty hands lugged a bag of tools through the doors. The man’s glance took in Maddie, then Margie, and finally raised his eyes to see Marilyn. “Ladies,” he corrected to the plural. “Little and—” he added a silky touch of flirtation to his tone “—not so little.”

      Marilyn couldn’t quite place the face, but it was familiar. Wander Canyon wasn’t so big that the familiarity surprised her. Growing up here, she recognized most faces around town, even after having lived in Denver since her marriage. “We were hoping to ride today,” she told him, even though it felt like stating the obvious.

      “Well, I was hoping to have it fixed today. As it is, I’m waiting on a part from New York. I can’t exactly duck down the street to the hardware store on something like this. So no rides yet. Sorry ’bout that.”

      Maddie’s pout filled her face