48. ~ Estelle ~
CHAPTER 48
~ Estelle ~
I closed my eyes, wavering on the spot in front of Gram-Gram’s rosewood desk. Today, I didn’t want to even focus on its intricately carved flowers. I wanted to disappear. I wanted this hellish feeling of being between life and death to be over.
Minutes ago, Trish had found me in my cubicle, sipping Canada Dry and trying to settle my nerves after a little run-in with Igor.
He always drooled. And always licked his lips. It didn’t mean anything that he’d been doing that a lot during our recent conversation.
Except then Trish had leaned over the back of my chair, whispering, “The head fairy wants to see you.”
And it wasn’t report time. And she never whispered unless it was something mean she didn’t want others to overhear. Then, when I’d turned around to face her, she’d lacked her usual too-sweet, slightly gloating look. But I hadn’t been able to put a pin in her emotion. Was it envy? No, why would she feel that? Was it defeat? It looked a lot like defeat. Defeat because her main rival was about to get fed to the ogre in accounting and who would she compete against if I was dead?
It was likely that. Especially since you couldn’t name a rule or regulation I hadn’t bent, broken or bastardized lately.
“Well,” the head fairy said calmly as I wavered in her office, eyes still closed, “Char is an adventure, isn’t she?”
I nodded mutely.
“Are you wishing right now?” Gram-Gram asked curiously.
I shook my head. We weren’t allowed to make wishes.
“Then why are your eyes closed?”
“So I don’t cry when you feed me to Igor.”
She let out a giant, very unladylike snort. “Estelle,” she reprimanded, “we have been through this. He’s vegan .”
“Yes, but he licked his lips when he told me I fried the system.”
Gram-Gram laughed. “Yes. You did do that.”
I cracked one eye open, my freaking out temporarily waylaid by her mirth.
“Our payment systems just needed a reset. Nothing permanent. Nobody is going anywhere.” She gathered up a stack of papers beside her and thumped them into a neat stack.
“But we owe Char, and you said we never owe our clients anything.”
“Yes.” She adjusted her half-moons lower on her nose. “Owing her would be problematic, for sure. But not beyond solution.”
“How do we fix it?”
She smiled and gestured like she was pulling a plug out of a bathtub. She made a whooshing sound. “I’ll take care of it.”
“What? How?”
“Char will help make the world a better place with her overflow, because…” she explained patiently, her voice dropping low like she was afraid of being overheard, “we never carry debt. Clients are allowed a very small overpayment which can only be applied toward future wishes. The rest…” She swooped an arm through the air and a shower of sparkles lit up the room. They were dazzling. So much prettier than my frustrated rage glitter. “Is shared. The world is now a slightly better place.”
“But that’s not in the book.”
“Not everything is.” She scanned the top sheet in her stack, then flipped through a few more before speaking again. “I do see that you stopped the flow into her account. So, I think we’re done here. Nice work.”
Nice work. Was that a compliment?
I felt the kindness of her words seep under my skin like much-needed rain after a drought.
“As you may have heard, I also put your name forward for the creativity award.”
I held in a gasp. Trainees never got nominated in their first year. This was huge. “No, I didn’t hear.”
Gram-Gram lifted an eyebrow. “Interesting. I told Trish to tell you.” She held my gaze for a beat, and I could see the edges of her lips wavering like she was trying to hold back a smile.
“Does that mean I’m no longer a fairy godmother trainee?”
Gram-Gram gave me a dry look. “Don’t push it, kid.”