47. ~ Char ~
CHAPTER 47
~ Char ~
T hursday morning, I transferred the park to the city, feeling relieved, but also like I was handing my newborn baby over to a babysitter for the first time.
Unexpectedly, I’d left the lawyer’s office with a cheque. The city had changed the zoning of my two lots from Industrial to Special Purpose, and had adjusted my already-paid property taxes accordingly. In other words, I’d overpaid and now had enough for the deposit on the little garage apartment without going into overdraft. Samantha, my sweet, moneyed friend, would be so proud.
I kissed the cheque while I walked, feeling unbelievably lucky.
Today I was free at last. I didn’t have to work. I was no longer on dog-walking duty as I’d quit a few weeks back due to a lack of time, and I had nothing to do for the park other than send off a few reports and thank-you notes to sponsors.
Well, except for one more tiny thing, and, no, it wasn’t cash the cheque—I’d already done that with my banking app before leaving the lawyer’s office.
It was time to go see Estelle over at Your Fairy Godmother to find out if the park had brought my account down to zero.
I walked over to 10 th and 10 th , enjoying the mid-August sunshine and the feeling of having my life back.
Or so I hoped.
I stood in front of what I knew to be 1010B, muttering the secret password for what might be the last time. The wooden door appeared and popped open a crack.
I filed inside, navigating the plants until I was with the witch at reception.
“Oh, you again,” she grumbled.
“Do I need to sprint past you again today, or are you going to let me in to see Estelle?”
She cracked a surprising smile, and tapped around on her keyboard. Moments later, the hidden door opened behind her and Estelle came out, looking bubbly in her black leather pants and bright red hair.
She led me through the pink bullpen and into Paxi’s old office, where we’d have more privacy than in her cubicle. As we moved, a fairy with white hair and pink reading glasses watched us from an office with a gold door that matched the one behind the witch’s desk. She gave Estelle a serious nod.
“Who’s she?” I asked, as Estelle closed Paxi’s door.
“The head fairy.”
“Cool. I came to tell you the park’s done.” I flopped into a chair, noting that the office seemed cleaner than it had been during other visits. And was that a new pink computer monitor on the desk? The first time I’d come in here, scared and doubting, seemed like a lifetime ago. I’d been afraid back then and had felt so alone in the world.
So much had changed. But there was still one more thing in my life that I was really, really hoping had changed.
“Did I pay off my debt?” I asked Estelle.
“Things have really shifted for you over the past few days,” she replied, sliding a can of ginger ale my way. I opened it, taking a sip. It had been a hot walk over here, and the pop’s crisp coldness was heavenly.
“Yeah, I was penniless and almost homeless and now?—”
“No,” Estelle interrupted, her tone serious. “Energy has piled up.”
I was instantly wary. “What kind of energy?”
“When you start a project like your park, initially, you don’t create a lot of karmic energy.”
I nodded. “Tell me about it. I asked for a lot of favours. For a bit I was worried I was creating more good karma for others than for my account.”
“You were. Your project was like getting a very large, and very heavy, ball rolling.”
Josie’s analogy of a car not being worth anything until it left the factory came to mind.
Estelle shifted in her seat, looking uncomfortable. “But then, eventually, good begets more good.”
“Right,” I said. “It’s like smiling at people in the grocery store. Some smile back, and then they smile at someone else and it gets passed on.”
“As you began making changes in your neighbourhood with your park—people meeting each other, giving the kids a place to play—it brought positive energy and created abundance.”
I crept to the edge of my seat, breath held.
“You reached a tipping point of sorts and created an avalanche.”
I nodded, not quite following, but hoping an avalanche was a positive thing.
“Basically, in the past few days, the widening effect of your good deeds has had an enormous impact.”
I leaned forward. “That’s great! I’m out of debt?”
She nodded slowly, and I whooped. I’d done it! I’d put good energy into the world without a day to spare. It was like someone had lit a rocket under me. I leapt up, grabbing Estelle, pulling her into a hug. I released her and danced around the cramped room.
“I love the new monitor,” I said, giving it an affectionate pat before sitting again.
“I need you to call it off,” Estelle said loudly. Too loudly. Something was wrong. Like, record screeching on my good mood kind of wrong.
“What? Call what off? I’m done. I made the park and gave it away.”
Estelle was leaning hard on her desk, eyes piercing, her look desperate. “I need you to concentrate like you never have before, and stop the karmic intake.”
“I don’t understand. What do you mean?”
“You’re flooding the system.”
I placed a hand on my chest. “I am?” Wasn’t that a good thing?
“I need you to do a new mantra. Repeat in your mind that you’ve paid your debt to Estelle.” Her heavy, ominous expression was making me feel a bit sweaty. She stood, hands clenched. She began pacing, looking like a caged lion in a pen that was too small. “Please repeat that mantra: I’ve repaid my debt to Estelle.”
“Okay. I repeat it before I do a good deed?”
“ No . Do it now .”
“Oh. To, like, sever our connection or something?”
“Yes. I think so.” Her hand went to her perfect brows, massaging them.
“You don’t know?”
“Nobody does! This has never happened before!” She threw her hands in the air and a few pieces of silver and black glitter rained down. I cringed, shrinking in my chair, still very much aware that she had the power to turn me into a newt.
Probably.
Estelle placed her fingertips firmly against her temples and sat down, elbows on the big mahogany table. “You paid everything back about thirty-two hours ago.”
“Really?”
“And then you donated the park.”
“Yeah.”
“All that happiness you created over the past two days…” She was almost moaning.
“Yeah,” I said wistfully. I’d never forget the bubbly warmth in my chest as I laid the last of the sod with my friends, putting the final touches on the park. I’d received so many hugs from the little kids playing in the playground, and they’d been so delighted to have somewhere safe to play close to home.
There’d been a lot of handshaking and thank-yous as we all left the park that night. At one point, two older gentlemen had made Tamara tear up when they’d shown up with their lawn chairs to play on the chessboard table. Then a large, extended family had rolled a barbecue into the park just before sunset, cooking hotdogs for whomever was still there. It had been like a giant, impromptu party among strangers where everyone left as friends. Honestly, it made my eyes a little damp remembering it all. I wanted every day to be like that in the new park. A place to gather, to share and connect and create a sense of community.
I’d done that. I’d transformed a dangerous eyesore into something a bit magical. I’d put good out into the world and created happiness out of thin air.
It made up for my past selfishness, and I felt powerful and finally in control of my life.
I lifted my attention to Estelle. “Why did Paxi grant my tenth birthday wish? The one that got my dad fired?”
Estelle blinked at me a few times. “What? We really need to stop this flow. Now.”
“I need to know.”
There must have been something in my tone because she sighed and said, “It wasn’t just your wish at play back then. Fate and destiny needed space in order to act upon your family’s timeline. Your wish was simply the vehicle to let destiny unroll.”
I blinked a few times. “Destiny?”
“You weren’t to blame.”
I sat in the new knowledge. My parents’ breakup had actually been fated or in the stars or whatever, meaning it was all going to happen somehow, with or without my wish?
“It wasn’t my fault?”
Estelle shook her head and softly whispered, “No. Not at all.”
I sat back, remembering the joy of sitting in that restaurant booth, the two people I loved most in the world singing to me around a candle-lit piece of cake. I wouldn’t take that moment back for anything, and it was so much sweeter now, knowing that I wasn’t truly to blame for the ensuing unravelling that had occurred. If I hadn’t made that wish, I might not have created that warm, fond memory.
“Now please do it!” Estelle said desperately, and I jumped.
“Oh! What? Right. The new chant thing.” I closed my eyes, concentrating on the new mantra to sever the connection between my good deeds and Estelle’s little karmic vacuuming system. I started to giggle, imagining flowers, rainbows and glitter hearts pouring into a dusty old 1950s Hoover that was all tubes and metal, making it bulge and groan, finally breaking open and sending love across the universe.
“You done?” Estelle asked dryly, like she’d been able to see what had been playing out in my imagination and found it less than amusing.
“Yes.”
“So here’s the problem.” She leaned forward, hands clasped on the table. “You’ve already paid back your debt by about three times.”
I blinked. Wait. No. That couldn’t be right. What were the implications of something like that?
“Everything compounded over the past day and a half. And we fairy godmothers make it a habit to never owe anyone anything.”