Page 51 of Fairy Godmothers Aren't Cheap

Flying high from my day of flirting, and the fact that I’d also managed to perform a ton of good deeds at work, from making coffee, to running out to grab lunches, and even cleaning the disgusting microwave in the staff break room. Yeah, it was probably only five dollars of good deeds, but I was eager to see what impact I’d made on my bill, as well as dreading what that cracked window from last night might have cost me.

Cause and effect. Cause and effect. That was what Josie said.

I sighed. Was I really excited about putting five dollars toward my debt? Although, maybe crushing on James and helping him out was beneficial—I mean, love was the purest form of energy, right? I could swoon over that man all day long, if need be.

Because otherwise, currently, my mission to pay off Estelle was impossible, and since I wasn’t with MI6, it meant it was truly, and utterly, completely impossible. But what else could I do other than take a massive risk and try to build a neighbourhood park that may or may not put some good out into the world?

I chewed on my lip, trying to form a Plan B.

I had nothing.

My mind slipped to my happy place: Athenian pottery. I’d sent my dad a post I’d come across on my lunch break about an ancient civilizations travelling exhibit that would be coming through Alberta in a few months. Even though he rarely left the house, I was hoping he’d reply ‘Let’s go!’

The walk symbol changed, and I went to step out just as a blue convertible with its roof stuck halfway up, or halfway down—depending on how you looked at it—lurched onto the curb, nearly hitting me.

I jumped back, hollering, “Learn to drive!”

I turned to glare at the driver before realizing it was Tamara behind the wheel. Embarrassed for not recognizing her car, and for snapping at her, I said, “Tamara? What on earth? Are you okay?”

Peering into the car, I checked the floor of the passenger side, the common place to find Tamara’s cowering passengers shivering in a heap of fear. The spot was empty.

“Don’t ask, just jump in and help me navigate. I have fewer bumps when you’re in Benjamin.”

Benjamin being her car. Bumps meaning collisions. Usually minor. A bumper tap, jumping the curb, nudging a parking meter. And, apparently, now also almost mowing me down. The usual.

“Where are you going? Home is the other way.”

She gave me a pleading look.

“Fine.” I yanked open the car door, and sat down, wishing I were more religious so I could do the sign of the cross and mean it.

No, I didn’t wish that. Estelle, that wasnota wish!

“I’m having a day,” Tamara said, “so I had my phone navigate me to you.”

“Really? Why?”

“I got to thinking about things, and I had to make sure you’re okay.”

“I’m fine.” I buckled up, cinching the belt nice and tight, then ensured my headrest was adjusted to a suitable height for preventing whiplash. I clutched the dashboard as the car lurched its way off the curb.

“I’m not that bad!” Tamara complained, eyeing my theatrics.

True. She wasn’t. Although, with the downtown rush-hour traffic and all of its one-way streets, large delivery trucks as well as rushing, aggressive drivers, she tended to get worked up. Back home, she was a lot calmer behind the wheel and rarely hit anything.

I turned down the volume on her playlist of out-of-season Christmas carols, a sure sign she was stressed. Tamara swerved like she planned to change lanes, then changed her mind. I did my best to relax into the seat, realizing that a car accident wasn’t likely to make my life that much worse at the moment. In fact, maybe I’d meet a handsome doctor. A rich one who believed in helping me pay off my fairy godmother debt.

“Where am I going?” Tamara asked.

“I don’t know. What’s got you stressed?”

“Because…because…” She lowered her voice as if someone might overhear her. “Because you have a fairy godmother, and I think it’s finally sunk in. Like, really sunk in. All day, I couldn’t stop thinking about her and wondering what else might be out there influencing our lives that we don’t know about.”

“Yeah. I’ve been thinking about that, too,” I said soothingly as she swerved around a city bus, trying to remind myself to breathe and relax. And not make a wish. But Tamara was such an erratic mess of a driver today it was difficult. Making wishes seemed to be my default for pretty much every stressful situation in my life.

“You’ve cost me a lot of money with your driving,” I mused as she jammed on the brakes for a yellow light.

“You sound like my insurance company,” she muttered.

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