Bespoke Wishcasting

The “Open” sign on the door at Bespoke Wishcasting, Inc., illuminated promptly at 9 a.m. Once it did, Cuthbert Tiffany sauntered in and gave the place a quick once-over. The two employees, wearing light blue golf shirts bearing the company logo, recognized him immediately.

And who wouldn’t? Thanks to a monumental family fortune he inherited when he turned 21, Tiffany was the richest man in the world – by far – and made sure everyone knew it. He owned the largest yacht ever built (for a laugh, he named it the S.S. Minnow); oversaw construction of the tallest building on the planet (the Tiffany Tower in Qatar, which had plenty of space but, to date, no occupants); and even formed the World Elite Amateur Sailing League, in which players paid $1 million per event for the privilege of participating. He, in fact, served as president of WEASL as well as player-coach of the Martha’s Vinyard Diamond Deckers.

He had almost everything, but it was the “almost” part that bedeviled him.

That’s where Bespoke Wishcasting, Inc., came in.

For a price – and that price varied depending on the job – the friendly Wishcasters at the company could give you anything you requested.

A trip to the moon? No problem … the rocket would be fueled and ready for launch in no time. A spot in the Indianapolis 500? They’d make sure you had the car and the crew to run toward the front during time trials. A bestselling novel? Write whatever you like and it’ll fly off the shelves. If you named it and claimed it – and had the money to pay for it – it was all yours.

And what Tiffany wanted was Penelope Garner, his high school flame who was now married with a family and living abroad. He had contacted her several times over the years in hopes of luring her away from what he called “her dull life,” but to no avail. She wasn’t just uninterested in him – she had gone so far as to file a restraining order to make sure he stayed away.

That was fine … Tiffany wanted a fresh start anyway, and the only way to get it was to travel back to May 25, 1979, and get a do-over prom date with Penelope.

“So, who runs the show here?” asked Tiffany, staring at the workers.

 “I’m Bernadine and this is my brother, Basil,” said the young woman as she stepped from behind the sparkling white counter and extended her hand. “I’ll be glad to assist you, Mr. Tiffany.”

“Yeah, I don’t do handshakes,” he said, waving her off. “Look, you people have a reputation for being able to do what no one else can do, and I’m gonna give you a chance to prove it. But before I waste my time, I need to know if you have reliable time travel capabilities.”

“Absolutely,” Basil said, without hesitation. “It’s quite expensive, of course, but I’m assuming that won’t be a problem for you.”

“You assume correctly. What I want is to be transported about 47 years in the past, to May 25, 1979. I even have the exact time for you … 6:12 p.m., Eastern Daylight Time. And the address in 312 Wisteria Commons Drive.”

Bernadine walked over to a computer, made a series of clicks, and smiled.

“OK,” she said. “You want to travel to the home of Gavin Garner, circa 1979. That shouldn’t be a problem in the least. I do need to know the reason for your visit … time travel is more than just a flash of light and a whoosh … we have to have data points.”

Tiffany shrugged.

“Whatever. I’m going back to take Gavin Garner’s daughter, Penelope, to the senior prom. The last time I tried it, things went sideways pretty quickly.”

“How so?” Bernadine asked.

“Is that really any of your business?”

“No, sir, none of mine,” Bernadine said. “But it’s part of the time travel business. To make this work, I have to know everything you remember. In other words, I need you to describe everything that happened on that date and that time.”

Tiffany let out a long sigh.

“OK, I rang the bell and her father answered the door – I had never met him before. Well, I had kinda met him before, but I didn’t realize he was Penelope’s dad.”

“Kinda met him?”

“He was a garbage man … you know, I guess they call them sanitation workers now. Anyway, I’d see him picking up our trash and you know – I was just a kid messing around – I’d throw quarters at him and yell things like, “How does it feel to be around rich people, Mr. Smelley? It was just a goof.”

Bernadine typed in the info.

“So, did he recognize you when you came to pick up Penelope?”

“He did … he did, indeed. Looked at Penelope and said, ‘Penny, this is the young man who likes to throw quarters at me.” Her face turned red and she slammed the door in my face.”

Bernadine nodded.

“So, I suspect you want to go back in time and apologize to Mr. Garner?”

Tiffany huffed.

“Hell, no. I wanna stick my foot in the door and tell Penelope I’m the richest man in the world and can make her the luckiest girl in the world. Once she knows she can spend her life with a billionaire genius and get away from garbage daddy, I’ll finally get everything I want. So, how soon can you portal me or zap me or whatever it is you people do?”

“It usually takes a couple of hours to get everything set up,” Basil said. “But considering who you are, we’ll do it right away. The fee is $57 billion. Something like this is normally $58 billion, but you’re our first customer today, so you get a discount. Once the transaction is done, you’ll just step into the Dematerialization Zone, which is that circle on the floor next to the counter. Once we activate it, you’ll see it glow, spin and hear a whir, and you’ll feel slightly dizzy. In roughly 10 seconds, you’ll be on the porch of the Garner residence at exactly 6:12 p.m. on May 25, 1979.”

Tiffany hastily pulled out his phone, transferred the money to the Bespoke Wishcasting, Inc., account, and stepped inside the circle.

“Do it,” he snapped.

Just as Basil said, within 10 seconds of the glow, spin and whir, Tiffany dematerialized and was transported to the time and destination of his choice.

When the process was complete, Bernadine and Basil looked at each other and broke into laughter.

“Oh, how I wish I could be there,” Bernadine said. “Just to see the look on Cuthbert’s face when he realizes he’s a 65-year old man trying to take a 17-year old to the prom. He really didn’t think this one through, did he? Now he’s stuck there and his money’s here. So much for being a billionaire genius.”

“Forget his face,” Basil said, flashing a huge smile. “Imagine granddad’s … and mom’s. Let’s call her and see if she remembers … I want details.”