by Sarah Noffke
Paris was about to respond when Detective Nicholson cut her off. “This isn’t a social visit, Charlotte. She’s in police custody.”
Paris flashed the receptionist an apologetic smile as she passed, heading for the detective’s office down the long hallway.
“So, no tea, then?” Charlotte called. “I have a hibiscus flower one too. John, it would be good for you to drink some tea.”
The detective shook his head as he followed Paris into the messy office. “Just coffee for me.”
“Please,” Paris added and threw herself into the chair on the other side of Detective Nicholson’s desk. The vinyl was ripped in places, and the metal armrest was rusted.
“What’s that?” He sat behind his desk, which was piled high with folders and day-old donuts.
“You forgot to say please,” she explained. “Just coffee for me, please.”
He shook his head of short white hair as he picked up a file folder and pretended to read it. Almost at once, he gave up the charade and thumped it back down on the desk, making it slide off a stack of papers. “Seriously, did you have to pick another fight with Madow?”
Daringly, she nodded. “He started it.”
Detective Nicholson sighed and shook his head. His face was swelling from the assault, but he ignored it. “Someone else always starts it, Paris. That’s always your excuse.”
She held out her hands. “It’s true, though. He was totally bullying a couple of elves. They were about to give over their money, afraid that Madow was going to snap off their pointy ears.”
Running his hands through his hair, the detective groaned. “It’s not your job to fight bullies who steal other people’s lunch money. That’s my job.”
Paris wanted to point out that the detective wasn’t doing his job if she was stepping in so regularly, but she didn’t think that would go over so well for her. She knew he was overworked and understaffed, so instead, she stated, “I was trying to help.”
He pressed his hand to his face, the throbbing from the attack registering as the adrenaline subsided. “That’s just it. You’re always trying to ‘help.’” He said the last with air quotes. “Like last week when you stole Levoroxy from those gnomes at the market.”
She narrowed her eyes, the recent memory burning her up again with anger. “Those gnomes were taking advantage of the magician who needed it. He’s ill, and when they realized he needed that medicine, they jacked up the price. He was about to sell his possessions to get that drug.”
Detective Nicholson shook his head. “That’s the thing—it’s a free market. That’s the gnomes’ prerogative. You can’t go around enforcing things because you think they’re wrong.”
“Then who’s going to?” she blurted and instantly regretted it. Paris knew she was only making things worse for herself, but as usual, she didn’t know how to keep her mouth shut.
“It’s my job to uphold the law,” he argued. “It’s the magical law enforcement agency’s job. Yours is to mind your business and stay out of trouble, but after this, there’s little hope of that happening.”
Paris dropped her head, feeling the inevitable about to befall her. “Detective Nicholson, I promise that I’ll—”
“Don’t call me that,” he interrupted, a punishing look on his face. “You’re not doing yourself any favors by pretending.”
Paris laughed. “By pretending that you’re not my uncle and I’m not a criminal?”
His blue eyes flashed with annoyance as Charlotte brought him a steaming cup of black coffee. “Things are hard enough without you acting like you’re some fairy on the street I’ve brought in for breaking the law yet again.”
“I’m not asking for any favors, Uncle John.” She offered a dry smile to the receptionist as she left the office.
“No, you never do,” John Nicholson agreed. “Unfortunately, there’s no way I can grant you any leniency.” He picked up the file that had her name on it and was, not surprisingly, thicker than most of the others on his desk. “I’ve bent every rule I can for you, Paris, but I have management breathing down my neck now. If they find out that I’ve let you off again, there’s going to be hell to pay.”
“I don’t want that for you.” She suddenly felt the weight of her bad decisions. Paris didn’t want anything to happen to her Uncle John. He’d always been there for her. When her parents had up and left town, deserting her, Uncle John took care of her. She was little then and hardly remembered them, but she remembered the man who took her in, ensured she ate and fostered her magic.
Then, when Paris was older and couldn’t pay her rent, it was the man before her who helped. Uncle John had been there for her when her dumb ex-boyfriend left her with a mountain of debt. This was how she was repaying him? Paris felt awful, but that wasn’t fixing anything.
He shook his head. “I don’t know what else to do at this point. If my superiors find out about this incident, which I suspect they will since Madow can’t keep his trap shut, they might have my badge.”
“Then put me in jail,” she instantly stated.
The look that snapped to his face made Paris’ heart ache.
“I don’t know if I can do that.” His voice was gruff. “The sentence for the charges will be quite long. You could be locked up for ages.”
She shrugged, pretending not to care. “I’ll make the most of it. I’ll pick up a hobby. Learn a new language. Take up meditation. Maybe try some yoga.”
A smile nearly cracked Uncle John’s lips, but he covered it up by sipping his coffee. It was too hot, judging by the grimace he made. “What if there was another option? A community service of sorts?”
Paris sat forward fast. “No. Please don’t send me to Tooth Fairy College. I can’t. I’ll take jail. I’ll do whatever it takes. Just don’t throw me in with those goth fairies and their emo music. I. Won’t. Survive.”
He chuckled. “I think those delinquent fairies are the ones who wouldn’t survive you, Pare.”
Uncle John was right. One day with those juvenile fairies who wore all black and talked in monotone voices while reciting Edgar Allen Poe's poetry would push Paris to her limit. Most knew that underage fairies who broke the law were sent to Tooth Fairy College for reformation and to fulfill their sentences for wrongdoing. At the age of twenty, Paris was almost over the limit, but her uncle could get her in there if he wanted to. She desperately hoped he didn’t because the last thing she wanted to do was collect gross teeth from mortal children’s pillows for the next century. Anything but that.
“I can take a few years in jail,” she argued. “Do what you have to do, but I don’t want you suffering for my actions. Punish me, so you don’t get punished.”
She expected him to argue, but instead, he picked up the phone and dialed a number. Paris remained quiet, listening for the voice on the other side of the line. Unfortunately, when the person picked up, she couldn’t hear what they said.
“So, I have a proposition for you,” Uncle John began, talking to the person on the other end. “Rumor on the street is that your enrollment is down. What if I help you out?”
He waited and listened. After a moment, he said, “You know my niece Paris Westbridge, right?”
There was another pause. “Yeah, she’s a good kid. Just…” Uncle John glanced at Paris before adding, “spirited. She needs discipline, that’s all.”
Paris felt like sliding down in her chair and muttering a few curse words but refrained.
“Great!” Uncle John cheered, a genuine smile spreading across his mouth. “Then we have a deal. I’ll send her over—well, if she agrees.” With that, he hung up and gave his niece a measured glare. “I have a proposition for you, Pare. You’re not going to like it, but hear me out.”
Chapter Four
The lilac-infused breeze that wafted through the open window of the fairy godmother college made the lacy drapes sweep up like a woman’s dress after a gust of wind. Willow Starr glanced out at the grounds of Happily Ever After College, enjoying
the spring weather. It was always springtime here. It had been since the beginning, some three hundred years ago.
Spring was the season of love. It symbolized birth, new beginnings, and a time when all things thrived. The college didn’t have a mappable location. It existed in a bubble, very much like the fairy godmothers themselves.
Willow Starr had been the headmistress of Happily Ever After for a very long time. Back then, things had been easy. The rules of courtship were black and white. However, things had changed in the modern world, and nothing had changed at the fairy godmother college. Willow knew it was only a matter of time before the governing agency brought her in for discipline. Saint Valentine had to know what she was in denial about. Her boss would know enrollment at the college was at a dismal low, and the cases were piling up. Worst of all, he’d know the ones they worked on ended in complete failures.
Willow smoothed back a gray hair that had been knocked out of her loose bun by the springtime breeze. She simply didn’t know how to fix things. She looked around her office without seeing, her eyes running over the hand-knitted blankets draped over the overstuffed mint green armchair and the many doilies that covered the coffee and side tables. For a long minute, she stared at the painting on the opposite wall, not seeing the shimmering pond and geese in the picture.
The office reeked of a grandmotherly feel, right down to the bowl of butterscotch on the corner of Willow’s desk and the musty smell that wafted from the armoire when she opened it. That’s where the headmistress kept the baby blue silk gowns that were the uniform of their graduates and students. The distinction between the two was the graduates wore a large pink bow tied under their chins. It had been a long time since Willow had given one of those out. It had been too long since they had a graduate at Happily Ever After.
The knock on the door made Willow start. She calmed herself and drew a breath before politely saying, “It’s open. Come in.”
A woman with short black hair and wise eyes entered, wearing a blue silk gown identical to Willow’s, tied at the neck with the large pink bow.
“To what do I owe the honor of your visit, Professor Mae Ling?” Willow slid her lavender-scented stationery away. Writing to Saint Valentine could wait. She’d been putting it off, so what was another day?
The small woman coughed, her eyes full of uncertainty. “Marylou Goodwin has returned from her case, and she fears the results aren’t ideal.”
Willow pressed her lips together and nodded. “I suspect she wants to give me her report directly, then?”
“I think she wants to do more than that,” Mae Ling carefully corrected.
The implications of her underlying message hung in the air.
“Take a seat,” Willow offered, indicating a large armchair on the other side of her desk.
Straight away, the small woman swept into the room and slid elegantly into the chair. Mae Ling had been with the college since the beginning and had mastered the etiquette they instilled in their students—the three Ps: Poised, Pretty, and Polite. That was what Prince Charmings looked for in their potential Cinderellas and, therefore, the art form the fairy godmothers had mastered. However, something wasn’t working anymore.
Willow’s eyes slid to the tele-eventor on the corner of her desk. It resembled a tiny typewriter, but it worked on its own, fueled by magic.
“The results haven’t come through yet,” Willow explained, knowing it wouldn’t take long before the device foretold how badly the repercussions of the failed match were. The magitech also gave her details on the cases assigned from Saint Valentine’s office, but lately, the information hadn’t helped her make assignments. What did it matter to Willow if a Cinderella had a ten-year plan before wanting to settle down? She didn’t understand that. All these women and their career goals. It didn’t make sense that they wanted an education over a man.
Women in the modern world were so strange. For many of them, romance wasn’t a priority. Did these women not get that love was what made the world go around? It wasn’t only about making smart matches resulting in long relationships and happy families. It was bigger than that. Relationships had far-reaching effects that affected the world at large for centuries. Mother Nature had made that abundantly clear when she put Willow in charge of Happily Ever After three hundred years ago.
“When do you want my help reviewing the new enrollment applications?” Willow decided that it would be better to deal with Marylou’s situation after good news.
The look that crossed Mae Ling’s face made her hope plummet. “I’ve already finished them.”
Willow blinked at her in confusion. “Say what? I thought—”
“There weren’t any applications,” Mae Ling interrupted, her tone apologetic.
“How is that possible?” Willow demanded. “Not a single applicant wants to attend the college this year?”
Mae Ling shook her head.
Willow sat back, absentmindedly looking out at the pristine grounds of the college. It was full of grassy lawns and fruit trees, but not even the songbirds made her feel better right then.
“If I may,” Mae Ling began. “I don’t think it’s that fairies no longer want to become fairy godmothers.”
Willow brought her gaze back to the professor. “I don’t understand.”
Mae Ling carefully pushed her thick black hair behind her ear. She was one of the few who didn’t sport the grayish-blue hair associated with fairy godmothers, but she’d always been a rebel like that. Willow trusted her to help her see what she was missing. “I get the impression that fairies don’t want to become like us.”
That wasn’t the response Willow had expected. She glanced at the mirror she kept on her desk that reminded her to smile when making phone calls. “Why not?”
“Well, for one, we look old,” Mae Ling explained.
“We are old,” Willow argued.
The other woman nodded. “Yes, but we make ourselves look that way well before our time.”
“It’s supposed to encourage our charges to trust us.” Willow didn’t see the relevant point here. “How will a Cinderella know we have their best interests at heart if we don’t remind them of their trustworthy grandmothers?”
Mae Ling tilted her head back and forth. “Maybe in this day and age, there are other ways.”
“Like what?” Willow questioned.
To that, Mae Ling didn’t seem to have an answer. She shrugged.
Willow sighed. “So the modern fairy doesn’t want to have gray hair and a refined appearance. I guess I can get over that. I still don’t understand why we have zero applications.”
“It might also have to do with the requirements,” Mae Ling stated diplomatically.
“Requirements?” Willow asked. “What’s wrong with them?”
“Well,” Mae Ling began. “Finding a fairy over one hundred years old who has a perfect track record and years of charity work isn’t as easy as it used to be.”
“Why ever not?” Willow demanded.
“Because modern fairies aren’t perfect,” Mae Ling answered at once. “They have a different life than the ones we had. The world they’re growing up in is different from ours. Frankly, I don’t think that what we do and how we do it appeals to them.”
“These are a lot of problems you’re bringing to me.” Deep down, Willow knew Mae Ling was right and was happy to hear it from her before it came from Saint Valentine.
“I know this isn’t easy, but I think we have some opportunities if we adapt our recruitment efforts along with marketing techniques and change the college’s image and curriculum, of course.”
Willow’s mouth popped open. “What’s wrong with our curriculum?”
Before Mae Ling could answer, the tele-eventor beeped on the headmistress’s desk. The possible results of the recent case were about to be foretold. Willow pretended she wasn’t anxious to see what the little white paper the machine churned out would say. Instead, she glanced at Mae Ling, her expression demanding an answer to he
r question.
“The curriculum simply isn’t working,” Mae Ling explained. “Teaching manners and traditional dating practices seems ineffective in this modern age, but that’s as much as I know. I can’t offer you much on how we should adapt because I don’t know. I’m not well-versed in the world outside Happily Ever After.”
Willow nodded as the tele-eventor spun out its message. She read it, and her heart dropped in her chest. The result of Amelia Rose not matching with her Prince Charming, Grayson McGregor, was much worse than she could have anticipated.
“Send Marylou in here,” Willow stated. “We need to deal with this and quickly before things get worse.” What she didn’t say was before Saint Valentine found out, and she lost the only job she’d ever had or wanted.
Chapter Five
The shamed expression on the old woman’s face made Willow’s heart ache even more. She pulled her gaze away from Marylou as Mae Ling led her into the office, offering the fairy godmother the armchair as she stood dutifully in the corner.
Willow reread the small piece of paper the tele-eventor had spewed out. It was hard to process potential results like this. It read: “Match failure will cause corporate rivalries, creating environmental instability, job loss, and dramatic economic devastation.”
One of those was bad enough, but all three were huge. There was no way this was going unnoticed by Saint Valentine. Amelia Rose and Grayson McGregor belonged together, and anything less would prove detrimental.
The headmistress of Happily Ever After College expected the fairy godmother to start with an apology. What she said first wasn’t something Willow was ready for.
“I’m quitting,” Marylou said, her voice and expression stern.
The abruptness gave Willow pause. Her brown eyes slid to Mae Ling in the corner before coming back to the fairy godmother. “I understand that mistakes have been made and you’re frustrated.”
“I’m tired,” Marylou corrected. “My body is tired. My mind is overwhelmed. And I’m frustrated that I keep failing at my cases.”
