Chapter 1
The phone rang in an ordinary suburban household.
The woman looked from the sinkful of suds in which her hands were immersed to the phone and called up the stairs, "Honey, can you get that?"
"It's for you," her husband said a moment later, propping the phone on her shoulder.
The woman listened to the phone, all the time edging away to glance at her husband, looking uncomfortable because he was listening in so intently.
"Yes. Yes, all right. Are you sure it's got to be tonight?" she asked. "Yes, I know there have to be three of us or it won't work.…" Another uneasy glance. "Yes, I've still got it. It's in … a safe place. All right. Pick me up at eight. I'll be ready."
She hung up the receiver and turned, a little breathlessly, to face her husband. "I have to go out tonight."
Looking terribly uncomfortable, the man gestured to her to sit down. His wife sank into a chair with wary, wide eyes.
"Sweetheart, I have to ask you this," he began cautiously. "I've been feeling funny about asking, but I have to know. The strange clothes, the basket, the notebooks you keep locked up … I don't mean to pry. I know it sounds strange but … are you in some kind of cult?"
"No, honey," she said, taking his hand gently. "I'm a fairy godmother."
* * *
The fair-haired woman in the light blue suit leaned forward into the microphone on the lectern and smiled brightly at the huge crowd in the Assembly Hall. With a long stick tipped with a star she tapped on the wooden top for attention.
"Will everyone please rise, so we can sing the union song?"
Raymond E. Crandall, Jr., stood up with everyone else. He glanced around him out of the corners of his eyes at the people and wished the meeting was over so he could leave. He hated assemblies. Two weeks ago, when he graduated from high school, he thought he was through with sitting in huge rooms full of deranged people. These adults, ranging in age from his own eighteen years to what he thought of as near death, were all strangers, and they had dippy, intense smiles on their faces, as if they were brainwashed or something. The ones who noticed him looking offered him a friendly glance. Hurriedly, Raymond turned his stare away, feeling miserably uncomfortable and wishing he was anywhere else than wasting a Saturday night in an auditorium full of strangers. He was an adult now, in control of his life, right? Wrong. Here he was, following orders. His grandmother said he needed to expand his horizons. That was the last thing Ray was thinking of. He had one precious summer left before starting college. He didn't have a clue as to why Grandma Eustatia thought he ought to come. She didn't tell him a thing about the organization except to suggest strongly that it was in his best interest to join up.
He had a strenuous day job as a gardener's assistant for the city. In the evenings he ought to be out hanging around with his friends, or seeing his girlfriend, or something fun, not significant. At least there were other black people here.
At the back of the hall, an old organ stung a churchlike chord.
"When we listen to the dreams of children
"It's our task to make them come true."
What? Ray looked around at the people singing, and wondered if he could still get out before anyone jumped him and fed him whatever it was these folks were buzzed on.
"Joyful wonderworking is our forte
"Granting wishes is what we do."
A short, plump man with a round face standing next to him noticed that he wasn't singing. He obligingly extended toward Raymond the creased sheet of paper he was reading from, holding it between them so they could share. Ray tilted his head slightly for thanks. He still didn't sing, since he didn't know the tune, but he followed along.
"Fairy godmothers, use your magic wisely,
"Heart and head should have equal pull
"To keep them on the path to their future.…"
Hokey as hell, he thought. What am I doing here? Well, he knew why he was sitting there in his best shirt, pants, and tie. It would take a stronger mind than his to go and tell his grandmother Eustatia Green he hadn't stayed where she'd told him to, so he'd stay. He wouldn't like it, though.
"… Every child deserves one miracle!"
