Page 87 of Fairy Godmothers Aren't Cheap

“You look like you’re headed to the gallows. Don’t take it all soseriously. These things happen. If I got all wound up every time I ended up in the police station…or waiting on them to get their evidence together and realize I’m not a criminal…” She clicked her tongue and gave her head a firm shake.

“Mom.” I rolled my eyes, well aware she was exaggerating. She was a sweetheart who was willing to stand up for what she believed in, fearlessly wading in where there was trouble or an abuse of minorities. As a result, she had experience with the police, and had been detained a time or two. That was all. Or at least, that was how the stories went. Maybe I was about to learn some new deep, dark secrets.

For Char’s sake, I hoped not. She was still looking a bit freaked out about the whole police questioning ordeal, and my mom’s suggestion that she was enjoying milk and cookies in a known criminal’s home while being on the police’s radar clearly wasn’t helping.

“Oh, you know.” Mom waved a hand, her smile wicked, the beaded bracelets on her wrist sliding downward. “The usual.”

“Explain the usual, Mom.”

“Protests. Sit-ins… Trust me. If it doesn’t stick, it won’t follow you forever. Well, probably.” She gave us a cheery smile. “Another cookie?”

I sighed and shook my head. Fresh-baked cookies didn’t solve everything. Although Char seemed to be coming out of her stupor with each new bite, so maybe they did.

I couldn’t help loving that she dove into my mom’s cookies, unlike Sophia, who’d always appeared to be mentally tallying her day’s sugar and fat intake.

“I’m sorry, James,” Char said finally, looking up from her cookie. “I didn’t mean to get you involved in this mess.”

“They interviewed everyone at the museum.”

“But they foundyourprints in my warehouse where all the stuff was found.”

“Because I was helping you with the park project.”

That seemed to make her feel worse. “Some thanks you get for helping, huh? They interviewed us like we’re viable suspects.” Her hands went to her face. “Do we have a criminal record? Like a temporary one while they look into trying to convict us? Am I no longer bondable right now? I have to call Joan. I’m advertised to clients as bondable. I can’t be if they seized my warehouse.” She was pale, her hands starting to shake as she typed out a text message to her boss. She muttered to herself, “I can’t believe I wasted all that money wishing on teddy bears and crushes.”

Teddy bears and crushes?

“Wait. They seized the warehouse?”

She nodded, eyebrows pinched with worry. “I can’t do anything with the lots until they’re done combing it for evidence. He said it could take a while. It’s going to slow everything down with making the park. I can’t afford to mess up the schedule Josie made. The whole plan will collapse.” She moaned into her hands. “Nobody’s going to want to sponsor us after they hear about this.”

She acted like a woman with numbered days whenever she talked about the park and its tight timeline, and I couldn’t quite figure out why. Why didn’t she just give herself more time? And as for the sponsors, she might lose a few, but the ones that were truly on board would see exactly why those two lots needed a revamp into something safer for the Everstone community.

“You’ll be fine,” my mom said in a firm voice. “The police aren’t dumb, and they know it was someone else. They’ll get to the bottom of things. It’ll all be cleared up in no time.”

Char nodded. “I’m a good person, right?” She looked up at me with innocent eyes. “And you are, too.” Her jaw dropped, a hand flying over it. “Oh no! Your job?”

I winced. I hadn’t been planning to tell her this part. At least not until later. “They asked me to stay home for a few days.”

Char moaned again. “Who framed us? I keep trying to figure it out, but my brain is like an open expanse of Saskatchewan prairie—there’s absolutely nothing.”

“I doubt someone’s trying to frame you,” my mom said gently. “It’s likely all just coincidental. Calgary isn’t that big.”

“But it’s inmywarehouse! Everyone knows I love old pottery. And the timeline of it all is so…coincidental.” Char shivered.

“But you also alerted Richard to the fakes,” I pointed out, earning a hopeful nod of agreement from Char. “If you were trying to get away with theft, you wouldn’t have done that.”

“You’re putting so much good out into the world,” my mom said, giving Char’s hand a squeeze. “Focus on the positive, not the other stuff.”

Char paled. “Is this karma?”

“No, no. Not karma.” My mom pushed her chair back, clearly done with the panic and ready to move on. “Are you hungry? I promised the two of you some lunch.” She began pulling items from the cupboards. “What would you like? Any allergies, Char?”

“I should go home.” Char stood.

“You can’t go home hungry,” my mom insisted. “You need a meal.”

Char hesitated. I could see her smalltown roots taking hold, understanding that an offer was genuine.

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