Page 51 of Run, Run Rudolph
“Right!” I jumped, brain scrambling for purchase on my slippery thoughts. “But Tamara hasn’t made a wish.”
“I know.”
“She’s afraid of the cost.”
“We’ve been over this. She’s out of trial offers.”
“I know.” But there had to be a loophole there. Accounting wouldn’t give us a coupon for Tamara to use, unless we told them everything. If we did that, they’d go straight to the shroud’s security team and things would get really messy, very quickly. “I suggested she use Char’s credits, but she didn’t want to. Wait! What if Char made a wish on Tamara’s behalf?”
Gram-Gram inhaled through her teeth. “Risky.”
“I know. But if I stick to the rules. Like maybe…” I paused, thinking my way into and around loopholes and rules. “What if Char wishes that she’d called Tamara earlier tonight—before the accident—and kept her talking on the phone for too long. That would make Tamara later getting home, and she’d miss hitting Rudolph!”
Gram-Gram stared at me for a full, lengthy beat before grabbing my arm and shuffling me off to the privacy of our late fairy, Paxi’s, office. “Splitting spell. Now. Go see Char. I’ll watch the door.”
I cleared my throat, feeling awkward as I stood in Char’s hotel room, waiting for her to notice me. She was snuggled up on a couch in front of the TV with James, the patio door open, an ocean breeze rippling the curtain. It was chilly, but nothing like Canada right now.
“Char!” I whisper-shouted, even though I knew James couldn’t see or hear me.
Her head turned slowly, and her look suggested she was unimpressed by my arrival.
“Be right back,” she told James, planting a quick kiss on his temple while she extracted herself from his arms. He pulled her back for a noisy, passionate kiss that made me look away.
The two were very much in love, and I was pleased for her. I hoped she had children soon. Trish was gaining experience with granting wishes to new moms, and it looked like a lot of fun. It would be a new challenge, too, because of all the rules around impacting the lives of others with a wish, and new moms made a lot of wishes surrounding their baby’s behaviours and futures. Plus, babies were super cute with their pudgy little arms and legs, and those uninhibited toothless smiles and giggles, and I’d have an excuse to watch over them.
“What are you doing here? What’s wrong?” Char whispered, once she’d locked us in the bathroom. The floor was tiled in orange and blue, and it was very festive and fun. It seemed they liked colours down in Mexico, or at least more than they did in Canada.
“Nothing’s wrong,” I said mildly. No need to start her off with panic.
Actually, no. I did want her to panic. I needed her to step in for Tamara.
“Then why did you bust in here? Haven’t you ever heard of privacy?”
“Oh, but—” I shook my head, realizing we were already heading off on a tangent, which was typical for most of our conversations. I stated firmly, “Everything’s wrong.”
Char immediately looked to the door where James was watching TV on its other side.
“He’s fine. It’s Tamara.”
Char crossed her arms. “You were supposed to help her. You were supposed to contact Santa.”
“I can’t, and Tamara needs to be extracted from a very sticky magical situation.”
“Sounds like a job for you.”
“And you.”
“Me?” Her voice went loud and she immediately hushed herself, whispering frantically, “What do you mean, ‘me?’ I’m on vacation. I didn’t do anything.”
“I need you to make a wish on Tamara’s behalf.”
“What? Why?” She was instantly suspicious. Why did these women find it so difficult to trust their fairy godmother?
“You have credits. Please use them to help extract her.”
“I told her she can use them.”
“She won’t.”
