Page 119 of Fairy Godmothers Aren't Cheap

She was toying with me. She knew who I meant.

“Char McDonnell, ma’am.” I was fidgeting, unable to stay still.

With Char back in the running for making wishes this quarter, I could finally blast past Trish, and all the extra wishes she’d been able to grant while I’d had to wait this out. I could take the prize for the most wishing income for the quarter. I could taste it. Smell it. Feel that victory.

“We need to discuss what you did to Trish’s sweater.”

Dang it.

What were my options here? Deny it? No. Gram-Gram had a good ear for lies. Deflect?

No. I was in the wrong. Again.

“I’ll apologize.”

“Just wash the sweater.”

“She already took care of it.” Trish had created a huge show out of her sweater having been used as a mop. It was like nobody hugged her enough, and she needed to compensate by being a drama queen about stupid stuff.

She’d made such a loud production out of finding it in the trash, rinsing it out in the bathroom sink, complaining about it losing its shape, then taking it home and bringing it back all pristine and perfectly pressed the next day. Who ironed a sweater? Seriously.

The cardigan was totally fine, of course, because it had only been ginger ale. She’d announced to anyone who would listen that she was putting it over her chair, and that the haters better not touch it ever again.

So, there was that.

“Figure it out,” Gram-Gram said, her tone suggesting she was already tired of this conversation and the immature battle between Trish and myself. “As for Char, you are free to initiate the granting of some of hersmallerwishes. But keep her under the amount-owing threshold.”

Internally, I fist pumped in triumph and skipped to the door in my cherry red high heels. I knew these were lucky shoes the minute I’d spotted them.

“Estelle?”

I turned from the door. “Yes?”

“You have developed a very good ear for hearing wishes.” Her eyes narrowed slightly, and I gulped. She knew about the tech I’d commissioned to hear more wishes than the old, hard-of-hearing wishing machine did. I braced myself for the backlash.

But she merely shooed me away with a hand, saying, “For heaven’s sake, don’t grant her every little wish. Dial it back this time.”

CHAPTER46

~ Char ~

Two days. I had just two days before my deadline to pay back everything I owed to Estelle. I was possibly on track, but it was impossible to know since karma math wasn’t like regular addition. It compounded. It dipped and flowed.

But I had a feeling I might get my account with Your Fairy Godmother to zero by Thursday’s deadline. Or at least close enough that I wouldn’t be hauled into a magical court or whatever Estelle had called it.

Or so I hoped. I’d studiously not thought about it for two whole months, focusing instead on doing what I could.

And now it was all coming together like the final scenes of a book.

“The biggest trees go over there, near the playground. The area’s marked out.” I directed the idling tree planter, then turned to the man with the flatbed loaded with benches.

Samantha’s stepmom’s gardening club had donated trees from one of their tea fundraisers, which was incredible because who knew trees over a foot tall were so expensive? At the moment, the club was standing in their gardening couture next to their luxury cars, which were stuffed with potted flowers, and giving the dirt lot looks of apprehension.

Josie and her spreadsheets were supposed to be here, directing everyone. Where was she?

I gave the bench man directions, then stood back. So much was going on. Too much for one day. Top soil had been delivered and raked out, my hands aching with blisters. Anywhere someone went, they trailed black dirt with them. The paths and basketball court were already coated with the stuff. But, I reminded myself, trees were going in along with benches. Flower beds next. The fence was partway finished. Sod was tomorrow.

Then it would be done. Complete.

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