Page 74 of Fairy Godmothers Aren't Cheap

Samantha checked her suede shoes for marks or mud stains for approximately the fiftieth time, and I wondered why she was here. Was she a requested buffer to be slid between me and Char?

I hoped not.

“Eleven weeks,” Char muttered to herself as she wiggled the key in the rusty padlock on the warehouse’ back door, unable to budge the seized inner mechanisms.

That was how much time she’d allowed herself to tear this building down and beautify the lots. Hopefully, our look around inside didn’t reveal any obstacles to her tight tear-down plan.

“We can get a lock cutter tomorrow.” Samantha was already retracing her earlier steps toward the street.

“Where’s my fairy godmother when you need her?” Char muttered, jamming the key into the lock again.

Her love of fairies tickled me. “Do girls ever outgrow that phase?”

“What phase?” Char pulled the key back out of the lock and tried blowing into it in case loose debris was the problem. I resisted the urge to reach around her and try my hand at it.

“When I’m a dad, I hope my daughter goes through a fairy phase.” I could see a little girl, so like Char. Whimsical and fun, happy and strong.

“Don’t have daughters. We’re a never-ending nightmare of headaches,” Samantha said. “Just ask my dad.”

Char gave up on the door and turned to me with a dreamy expression. Maybe she was imagining the same thing I was. Me as a dad, holding our little girl in a fairy princess dress as I flew her through the air, running around the living room, chasing Char.

She likely wasn’t imagining that. In fact, I didn’t even know where her head was at these days. And as for me, I was constantly putting the cart before the horse with her. When my ex had shared her future family fantasies, I’d become uncomfortable, but with Char I was the one with my head in the clouds.

“Can we go now?” Samantha had stopped to wait for us, and she brushed invisible muck from her shoes.

Unwilling to call it quits in case Char decided to come back here on her own, I reached around her, giving the lock a firm yank that shook the entire door. I stepped back, peering around the side of the building, and down the narrow space between the warehouse and the brick structure next door.

“We can get in down here.” Part way down the wall, I spied a bent, loose piece of siding that might serve as an entrance.

“Nope. I’m gone.” Samantha turned and left.

Maybe she wasn’t here to act as a buffer between me and Char, after all. At least now maybe I’d get some answers as to why Char was acting standoffish.

Char followed me as we squeezed our way between the two buildings. She knocked on the metal siding as we shimmied. “I found a scrap company that’ll take this away and recycle it.”

“Smart.” Free removal, and the crew got whatever the siding was worth at the reclaimers. Win-win.

At the hole in the wall, we bent at the waist, peering inside, one after the other. It was dark compared to outside, the odd shaft of light making its way in through holes in the roof.

“Let me go first. Make sure it’s safe,” I said, crouching beside Char and holding an arm in front of her in case she decided to get the jump on me and squeeze through first. There was no way I was letting her in before me, and I quickly angled my frame through the opening. The warehouse smelled of old motor oil and dirt.

Char followed, stopping short as her eyes adjusted to the faint light. “Oh, no. People are living in here. That’s got to be bad karma if I oust them.”

I eyed the weathered sleeping bags laid out on the dirt floor. I lifted a few of the beds, sending clouds of dust into the air. “I think they’ve all moved on. My mom said the Salvation Army was working hard in this neighbourhood last year to home the homeless.”

“Thank goodness,” Char said. “I’m trying to solve problems, not create new ones, and tearing down someone’s shelter would be seriously uncool.”

“Yeah.” I moved back to her side, as though wanting to take in the building from her point of view and allowed my knuckles to brush hers, watching her from the corner of my eye. I admired Char. Not just her heart, but the way she was willing to pour it into this self-led community project.

A slight pink flashed across her cheeks at my touch, as if she was feeling shy. We stood beside each other for a moment, eyes adjusting to the building’s shadowy light as we took in details. Anything of value had been stripped from the walls a long time ago, including any plumbing, fixtures, or electrical. The warehouse’s frame was wood, not steel, which should mean an easy takedown. Oddly, though, there was nothing between us and the outer metal siding. No insulation, which was weird for Canada. Then again, maybe the inner panelling and insulation had been stripped out, too.

Across the warehouse, some wooden steps led up to a small room with a door. The upper level didn’t even cover an eighth of the building’s footprint, and I wondered if it was an old office.

Char shivered beside me.

“You okay?” I wanted to pull her into my arms and kiss her, but the signals she’d been giving me suggested she needed me to slow it down. It felt like that was all I’d been doing since the day I’d met her, and being patient was becoming a genuine struggle.

“I’m fine. Just thinking how much work this’ll be.” She rubbed her hands together. “I can’t wait to get started.”

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