Unsuspecting Trouble (The Inscrutable Paris Beaufont Book 3)

by Sarah Noffke

  “Now, please partner with someone working on the same dance as you and get started,” Wilfred advised, clapping his hands again and ushering students in different directions, helping them find a suitable pair.

  Paris noticed Hemingway striding straight in her direction, weaving around the other groups on his way to her. He was often her partner during ballroom dancing since she was admittedly behind. It had been Wilfred who suggested that Hemingway help her since he didn’t want her to learn bad habits pairing with another student.

  However, to Paris’ surprise, the rigid butler hurried over and stepped between Hemingway and her as he arrived. Wilfred held up a hand, halting Hemingway.

  “Today, Paris isn’t going to have a partner,” he said firmly.

  Hemingway blinked at Wilfred in confusion. “What? Why? I thought you wanted me helping her.”

  Wilfred pursed his lips. “I did, and you were, but now I think that you’re enabling her.”

  Paris sighed. “Oh, man, I can’t win for trying.”

  The butler gave her a pointed glare. “Hemingway is skilled in all our ballroom dancing and leads you well. So well, I’m afraid it doesn’t force you to learn the actual moves.”

  “Well, do you want him to sweep my legs out from under me a time or two or something?” Paris asked.

  The stuffy AI blinked at her. “I’m not sure what that would accomplish.”

  Hemingway nudged him in the arm. “That’s one of those jokes. I don’t think Paris thinks I’ll sweep her legs out from under her. Besides, I don’t want to sport a black eye.”

  “I’m not sure why you’d have a black eye for dancing poorly.” Wilfred appeared confused now.

  Paris laughed and shook her head at Hemingway. “I think we better stop with the jokes. They might make his head explode.” She pursed her lips at Wilfred. “So I need to dance with someone who won’t enable me, is that right?”

  He shook his head. “You need to dance alone.”

  Paris glanced around the ballroom where the other students were all paired up, tripping from time to time but at least doing it with another person. “Wait, you want me ballroom dancing by myself? That seems sad even for me. Isn’t that like playing dodgeball on your own?”

  Wilfred tilted his chin to the side, his confused expression deepening. “I’ve never played dodgeball, so I can’t relate although...” His expression glassed over momentarily before his eyes flickered to life again. “Dodgeball doesn’t appear to be an activity conducive for our curriculum.”

  Paris laughed. “Yeah, there would be a lot of broken noses if you suddenly forced the students to play dodgeball, although I think it would be as effective as teaching ballroom dancing.”

  “How is that?” Hemingway laughed, obviously amused by this conversation.

  “Well, isn’t dating all about avoiding getting hit while also trying to knock out the right person?” Paris deadpanned, earning another laugh from Hemingway.

  Wilfred’s expression remained stone. “I’m not sure I see the similarities between courting and a game that seems violent in nature.”

  “You should meet my ex-boyfriend,” Paris joked. “He was as dumb as a rubber ball, and all I did was try and avoid him.”

  “Although I see that you’re trying to create a humorous metaphor, I’m not sure it works for our purposes,” Wilfred said dryly. “Today, I want you to work on mastering the steps on your own.”

  “Ballroom dancing is a two-person activity,” Paris argued.

  Wilfred nodded. “Correct. But one has to know the steps on their own so they don’t rely too much on a partner. It truly is a two-person activity.”

  Paris deflated but nodded still. “Okay, fine. You want me to work on the waltz? Master that before moving on?”

  Wilfred shook his head. “Unfortunately, I don’t think you’re ready for the waltz quite yet. Instead, I’d like you to go back to basics and master the box step.”

  “Box step?” Paris’ face flushed red. She didn’t dare look at Hemingway, suddenly embarrassed. “That’s like making me do front rolls all over the ballroom when everyone else is doing cartwheels.”

  “The class is dancing, not tumbling, I’m afraid,” Wilfred corrected.

  Hemingway released a small smile, nudging the butler again. “That was another of those metaphors laced with humor.”

  “Oh,” Wilfred said at once. “I realize the box step is basic, but it is crucial that you know that thoroughly before progressing. I fear in our attempts to help you catch up with the class that we’ve rushed you ahead. It would be best if you have the proper foundation.”

  “Fine,” Paris sighed. “I’ll learn how to do the box step with my eyes closed. Then maybe you’ll let me step on someone else’s toes again.”

  Wilfred straightened. “Dancing with your eyes closed isn’t advisable, just as we don’t encourage stepping on other people’s toes.”

  “Wilfred,” Hemingway began with a laugh. “That was a…never mind.”

  “Don’t worry,” Paris said to the groundskeeper and jack of all trades for the college. “One way or another, I will get Wilfred to laugh at one of my jokes.”

  “If anyone can, it will be you,” Hemingway said, backing away. “Good luck.”

  “Thanks.” Paris waved and put her back to the class. She might have to dance by herself, but she didn’t have to stare at everyone or allow them to see how humiliating it was for her.

  Chapter Six

  Without a valid reason to skip Astrology, Paris reluctantly found herself in the observatory and seated in the lecture hall, impatiently waiting for the session to begin. Having to dance on her own during the last class had put her in a sour mood, but she didn’t know why. It wasn’t like Wilfred had done it to be mean, but rather to help Paris learn the steps instead of relying on Hemingway. No one seemed to pay her the slightest bit of attention as she practiced on her own. For some reason, it felt like she had something taken away from her, and she couldn’t figure out why.

  “Having experienced the Spring Equinox,” Professor Joyce Beacon began, striding onto the stage at the front of the auditorium, “I thought it would be appropriate for us to discuss the significance of the Summer Solstice.”

  Paris slumped in her seat, wishing she’d tried harder to find an excuse to get out of Astrology. She had promised to keep an open mind about some of the more outdated and archaic curricula at Happily Ever After College. However, that was much easier to do when she avoided certain classes and Astrology was one that really threatened to make her speak out.

  Paris hadn’t forgotten that Mae Ling had encouraged her to be herself no matter what since she arrived at the college. However, doing so seemed to make her a rebel on every level. There couldn’t be more things in one place that she disagreed with and basing romance on some shoddy idea of astrology was definitely at the top of the list. Paris consoled herself with the thought that maybe this astrology lesson wouldn’t be as ridiculous as the last one.

  “One of the reasons the Summer Solstice is so important for our purposes as fairy godmothers is that it’s the ideal time to balance masculine and feminine energies,” Professor Joyce Beacon began in her usual airy tone.

  Paris slid down farther in her seat. So much for any hope this lesson wouldn’t be cloaked in superstition and backed up by zero science, Paris thought. If she chewed on her nails, maybe she could busy her mouth and refrain from arguing with the astrology professor.

  Joyce Beacon wore the blue gown, the same as everyone in the room, making her long, thick dreadlocks a bluish-gray like a grandmother. The woman’s dark skin was a beautiful contrast to her hair and robe, and her gray eyes were a nice complement that made her appear wise and somewhat witch-like.

  “There is little denying that men and women speak different languages,” Professor Joyce Beacon continued, giving Paris a pointed look.

  It was as if she had read her thoughts and was challenging her to argue with her.

  Fine, Paris th
ought. I can’t dispute that. Men and women do seem to communicate differently.

  “During the Summer Solstice when nature has reached full maturity,” the fairy godmother went on, “it’s the time for us to connect to the Earth to balance the masculine and feminine energies to ensure that our matches have every opportunity via the cosmos to find true love.”

  Here's where it’s all going to fall apart for me, Paris thought, biting her nail. Maybe things wouldn’t go too farfetched. She hoped. She could get behind the idea of balancing out masculine and feminine energies from a symbolic standpoint as long as it made practical sense.

  “It is through rituals that we connect to the Summer Solstice, ensuring that the goddess of the Earth lavishes our matches with good fortune,” Professor Beacon stated.

  All the hope that Paris had banked on immediately evaporated.

  The fairy godmother glanced around the room with a patient expression on her face. She definitely wasn’t reading Paris’ thoughts right then.

  “Some ritual ideas,” Professor Beacon began, “that harness the solstice’s explosive positive energy would be creating bonfires, altars of lights, sun pinatas, sun wheels, sun mandalas, solstice sun tea, solstice flower essence, and flower wreaths.”

  “Why are we doing this?” Paris stuck her fingers more into her mouth, trying to cover her reaction. Despite her efforts, her cynical remark popped out of her lips.

  The fairy godmother glanced in Paris’ direction. “Well, one of the most important reasons is to ensure we make fertile matches.”

  “Wait, you’re telling me that we have to burn lavender and Saint John’s Wort or something to create ‘fertile matches?’” Paris put air quotes on the last two words. “What research do we have to support this?”

  Behind her, Paris heard several students groan, probably having expected her to challenge the logic but possibly disappointed that she couldn’t stop herself from speaking out.

  Professor Beacon also appeared immediately flustered by the question. “In many cultures, throughout history, civilizations have performed rituals at the Summer Solstice. The Pagans ran around the totem pole.”

  Paris nodded. “Oh, good. I was afraid you were going to support the claim with a weird population of people who weren’t hippies.”

  Thankfully the groans at Paris’ back turned to giggles. She couldn’t help but release a small smile too.

  Professor Beacon didn’t seem amused though. “I’ll have you know that the Egyptians had a two-week festival to celebrate the Summer Solstice. The Greeks had virgins drink from special wells hoping to have visions of their future spouses. In Eastern Europe, men search for magical ferns in the forest at night and women make flower wreaths that suitors risk their life to recover as they sail down the river.”

  Paris nodded. “Here I was worried that your examples would make all these rituals sound weird.”

  Professor Beacon sighed in frustration. “Showing respect to cultures and history is important.”

  “And I do respect cultures,” Paris argued. “I think all the ones you mentioned are fascinating. However, I would argue that as fairy godmothers we don’t need to continue these ancient traditions, thinking that’s how we’ll solidify successful matches. That’s shortsighted. The Egyptians celebrated the solstice because of fear of something happening to the Nile. Similarly, other cultures were afraid of what would happen to crops or that the gods would be angry with them and not gift them with children. We know more now and therefore shouldn’t waste our time running around a totem pole when those mating rituals will do as much good as worshipping a tree.”

  “Actually,” Professor Beacon said smugly. “In India, if two lovers are born under the influence of Mars, there’s a risk their marriage won’t be successful. Therefore one is required to marry a banana tree. This satisfies Mars’ wrath, and the bad marriage will happen between the spouse and the tree, making the second marriage a successful one.”

  “Although that’s fascinating, I really don’t want to believe the fate of a marriage is based on when someone is born,” Paris stated firmly. “If two people aren’t destined to be together it’s because they aren’t compatible or one is a runner, or one a cheater or whatever the inherent problem is but not because of Mars. I feel like if we subscribe to these notions, we lose the power to help people find true love. Instead, we’ll stay tied to rituals that aren’t fact-based instead of helping lovers to connect.”

  Paris braced herself for the professor’s reactions, which she figured would involve a fair bit of yelling. To her surprise, Professor Beacon nodded. “You make some relevant points. I’m not saying that we should dismiss the study of astrology, but maybe we need to start taking it with a grain of salt. I’ll consider what you’ve said, but in the meantime, maybe you can indulge me by at least learning the customs around the Summer Solstice? You don’t have to practice them, but knowing about them could always lead to an idea for you when matchmaking.”

  Paris was momentarily so shocked that she was speechless. Finally, she coughed out a reply. “Yeah, I think that sounds fair.”

  Professor Beacon released a small smile. “Good. I’m glad we could have a civil discussion on the matter.”

  Paris was glad too and hoped that other similar disagreements went the same way. However, she didn’t think all she opposed would be as reasonable as Professor Beacon, although one could hope.

  Chapter Seven

  It was still difficult for Paris to consider that she was working on a mission with the headmistress, Mae Ling, and others at the college. That was unheard of for first-years at Happily Ever After College, but it was her rebellious thinking, which Mae Ling had encouraged, that landed her this opportunity. It didn’t escape her that one behavior that had landed her at the college ended up granting her extra privileges.

  Paris knew that she was subjective on the matter. Still, she did think that fixing the Amelia Rose and Grayson McGregor situation would take thinking outside the box and doing things differently than how the fairy godmothers had before. She and Christine had already done things untraditionally, sneaking into Rose Industries and McGregor Technologies to learn covert information. Now it was time to put that information to use, bring the two lovers together, and hopefully extinguish the flames of the war they kept fanning.

  Taking her lunch in the headmistress’ office at Willow’s request, Paris sat nervously on the edge of one of the oversized armchairs. She merely eyed the neat platter of sandwiches on the desk in front of her and the others, not at all hungry.

  “Thanks for joining me,” Willow Starr began, smiling at the others. “This is a small task force I’ve put together to hopefully fix this situation with Amelia Rose and Grayson McGregor. Unfortunately, the longer they stay apart, the more the love meter goes down. Whoever thought that one match couldn’t have such far-reaching effects really underestimated how much two people can do—or in this case, how much harm they can cause.”

  Standing stoically between Paris and Christine was Wilfred, who had his hands behind his back and chin high. Also sitting to the side of the headmistress’ desk were Mae Ling and Chef Ash. All would have pivotal roles based on the plan that Paris had set out. It involved treachery, lying, and a lot of deception. If it worked, Amelia Rose and Grayson McGregor would be together, and they’d create love instead of sabotaging it.

  Paris glanced at the love meter on the wall and sighed. It was still very low, the dial around fifteen percent. It was pretty incredible, in the worst way, that two people had impacted the love meter so much. Still, these were two powerful people who had far-reaching effects. What they encouraged, spread. The key was to inspire them to love, then that’s what they would spread.

  “So, what’s the next phase?” Christine asked, sliding her hands together eagerly. It was also her first case, but she wasn’t a first-year.

  However, because Paris was working on the mission and didn’t work well with others, she’d been chosen. Christine was smart and worked
well under pressure, which some of the other, more well-behaved, rule-following fairy godmothers in training had trouble with. Breaking the rules was one reason the headmistress chose Paris after all. She didn’t flinch when she lied. Paris wasn’t sure that was a good thing, but in this instance, it did her favors. Before, it got her in jail. Life was ironic like that.

  Mae Ling opened the folder with the plan that Paris had outlined, which she didn’t think anyone would go for. She glanced up over the folder and raised an eyebrow at Paris, almost as though prompting her.

  Chef Ash, Wilfred, and the headmistress all glanced at her too.

  Paris straightened, cleared her throat, and sucked in a breath.

  “Okay, the next step is pretty simple,” she stated, trying to inject confidence into her voice.

  Christine laughed loudly. “Simple? Like calculus?”

  Willow shot her a disapproving look before glancing back at Paris. “I appreciate that you think that it’s simple. Maybe you can boil it down for us.” She glanced at the others for support. “I think for some of us, that it might need some simplifying since it’s a bit unorthodox.”

  This was where Paris’ strange expertise came in handy. It was weird because mostly it wasn’t a skill she ever thought would be necessary.

  “Right.” Paris puffed out her chest. “It’s pretty easy. We have to sabotage and destroy two very lucrative and powerful companies. Then Step One of our plan is complete.”

  Christine laughed again. “Easy-peasy. I love every part of this plan. Especially Step One.”

  Chapter Eight

  An uncomfortable cough escaped Willow’s mouth. “It’s that whole sabotage thing that gets me. Is there a way we can avoid it?”

  Paris glanced at the report she created and shook her head. “I don’t think so. It’s about taking away options. We have to reduce these two to nothing…”