42. ~ Estelle ~
CHAPTER 42
~ Estelle ~
“I s it real?” Char had busted past reception, and somehow figured out how to get into the bullpen. Then she’d found me in my barf-a-rific pink cubicle where I’d been stressing over something I’d done weeks ago at a summer solstice party. How was I supposed to know that the sweet, white-haired daddy flirting with me was married? Now his powerful wife was upset with me. When it came to the rules of my own magical world, why couldn’t I get it right? It felt like I kept messing up everywhere.
Without even a hello, Char startled me with her abrupt question, causing me to promptly spill my can of Canada Dry all over my desk.
“Is what real?” I whispered, ducking low so nobody would see me over the edge of my cubicle. Grabbing Char’s wrist, I yanked her into a hunched position.
Reaching across the aisle between cubicles, I snagged the pink cardigan Trish left over the back of her chair, even though our offices are always the perfect temperature. Glancing around, and aware of how much trouble Char and I could get in with her being in here, I mopped up the spilled ginger ale.
Technically, Char was a suspended client because of her overdue account. Technically, reception was supposed to tell her I was away if she ever stopped in—which clearly she had. And, technically, I was super glad she’d forced her way in. It was so nice to see her.
“James,” Char demanded. “Our love? Is it real?”
I beamed at her and nodded, dropping Trish’s ruined sweater in my wastebasket, then toed the whole thing around the edge of my cubicle and into the one beside us.
“But I made a wish. Lots of them.”
I shook my head. “Not for him to love you. Not specifically. Just other romantic stuff.”
“Like the necklace?”
I thought for a second, mentally going through her long list of wishes. Yes, she’d wished for that necklace made of pottery. Ancient in her world. She hadn’t wished for him to buy it for her, though. That was my handiwork.
I smiled and nodded.
“Estelle,” she said with a sigh. “That was really expensive.”
The pretty little blond heads of other fairies were popping over cubicle walls, and I pulled Char under my desk and yanked my chair closer in hopes of using it to hide us. My legs were long, and Char was bigger than I realized. We’d both bonked our heads on the underside of the desk, and my elbow was in her ribs, her foot jammed into my thigh. Her running shoes needed new laces, as well as a good washing.
“No matter what you wish,” I said urgently, “James still has control over his life. This isn’t black magic. It’s white. It’s good. He retains determination.”
“What are you two doing under there?” Trish growled, grabbing the chair and shoving it away. It rolled across the pink carpet, banging into a fairy who’d crept out of her cubicle to peek at the unravelling drama.
“Nothing!” I snapped.
“Is that Char?” Trish’s eyes narrowed. She gasped indignantly and super dramatically loud. “I’m telling the head fairy.” Hands on her hips, she turned and flounced off.
“You’d better go.” I pushed Char out from under my desk. “Just remember—no matter what you wish, he always has choice.”