Fairy Godmothers, Inc

THREE



Godmother-Client Privilege


The universe, Kate decided, had a cruel sense of humor.

Every Fairy Godmother who had been at the job more than a week knew that no one ever really tripped over an attractive, fairly charming guy who was good at making you smile and apparently liked you enough to follow you wherever you were going. Things like that only happened when a Fairy Godmother was behind the scenes choreographing everything. The more cynical ones believed such an encounter took choreography and a dose of True Love, which meant the guy would also be in the mood to fall in love with a desk chair if it were in the right place.

So, there was no way she was supposed to be walking with her hand tucked around Jon’s warm, strong arm, listening to his surprisingly detailed commentary about the local stores and neighborhood landmarks. Things like this barely happened to princesses, let alone Fairy Godmothers, and she might think he was up to something if his clothes weren’t clearly tailored while hers were usually bought on sale. That left a prank, which her co-workers didn’t hate her enough to try, or True Love, which would have left her feeling too dizzily romantic to be thinking such depressing thoughts.

Jon turned to look at her, apparently noticing her pensive expression. “Are you okay?”

She blinked, hoping he wasn’t about to quiz her. “I’m fine.”

He hesitated for a second, looking worried. “I’m sorry for the more-than-you-ever-wanted-to-know tour guide. Feel free to just muzzle me when I get too boring.”

“You’re not boring!” Kate insisted, wondering for a surreal moment if he’d been having his own silent self-esteem meltdown while she’d been distracted with hers. The thought was completely ludicrous, but it jerked her thoughts back into the moment better than anything else could. “I’m just going over what little I know about the client.”

“Ah, work.” He nodded. “I sympathize.”

“Do you work around here?” She kept her voice bright, trying very hard not to be distracted by the way his hair curled at the back of his neck. “Or did I knock you down on your way home?”

Jon tensed at the question, subtly enough that it was really only perceptible in the sudden twitch of his fingers. Kate froze, knowing she’d somehow said something wrong, and she loosened her hold as she waited for him to yank his arm away.

Instead, he let out a breath. “I work . . . at the palace, as sort of a diplomatic secretary,” he said after a minute, his voice almost apologetic. He looked over at Kate. “I’m expected back, actually. I just . . . needed to get away for a little while.”

Kate nodded, fighting a sudden and absolutely ridiculous surge of relief. Sure, she couldn’t let herself talk to him again, but that was probably safest for everyone.

They walked together in silence for a moment, Jon glancing over every few steps. “Can you tell me a little about your current assignment?” he finally asked. “I don’t know how tight the confidentiality restrictions are for Fairy Godmothers.”

Kate tensed a little as she looked at him. A lot of people thought being a Fairy Godmother sounded fascinating, right up until the point when she started telling them all the details. The fact that she actually enjoyed the details just made her feel stupid. “It’s . . . not very exciting,” she said eventually. “You don’t really get the interesting stories until you’ve been working with the client for a little while.”

He smiled. “Isn’t it sad that the really interesting stories have to start out as miserable days at work?”

Kate couldn’t help the emerging return smile, shifting her gaze to the nearby townhouses before she did something embarrassing like lean her head against his shoulder. “Believe me, if Fairy Godmother assignments weren’t naturally short I would have beaned someone in the head long before now.”

Jon chuckled. “I actually knew a girl whose aunt hired a Fairy Godmother to secure her engagement to the eldest son of a local duke. Of course, the duke’s wife was less than thrilled with the match, and hired a witch to make the problem daughter-in-law go away.”

Kate nodded. “I heard about that one. They had to send in a whole team of re-beautification specialists, who then came back to the office and immediately dished out all the juicy details to anyone within earshot.” She grinned. “Apparently, she was picking warts out of her hair for weeks.”

“Believe me, she deserved it. A few years before the witch thing, she tried to make her cook redo an entire fifteen-layer cake because the icing clashed with her ball gown.” He winced at the memory. “Threw such a fit about it she actually made the entire serving staff burst into tears.”

Kate raised an eyebrow. “A fifteen-layer cake is nothing compared to a flying elephant. She was the beloved pet of a client who was paying us millions, and the client insisted her Snookums absolutely had to be gowned to match her mistress.” Not one of her favorite cases. “That large an animal in lemon yellow puffed sleeves is not a pretty sight.”

“I can imagine.” Jon looked impressed, and Kate felt something inside her lift in a way she didn’t dare look at too closely. “But I’ll see your elephant and raise you a man convinced his dead wife had come back to him as his extremely loud and vulgar pet parrot, and refused to make any political decisions without consulting with her first.”

The stories went back and forth, reality mixing liberally with exaggeration as each did their best to top the other. Jon turned out to have a very, very nice laugh, and managed in turn to make Kate laugh at more than one of his descriptions.

She didn’t even feel self-conscious when she caught him very carefully not looking at her wings. “They come from my father’s side of the family,” she explained, giving them a sample flutter. Freed from social constraint, Jon’s eyes focused on them. “My dad didn’t have any, but apparently they show up on girls more often than they do boys. I don’t mind them as much as I used to, but they do limit the places you can buy a shirt.”

“You look good in them,” he said offhandedly, seeming not to notice as Kate’s cheeks went pink. “Forgive me if this is too personal a question, but . . . can you fly?”

Kate shook her head. “Sadly, no. Their strongest power was making me knock over anything within about a two-foot radius until I was about sixteen.”

“How efficient.” Jon grinned. “I used to have to run into everything.”

All too soon, Jon slowed to a stop at the top of a street that appeared at first glance to be exactly like all the others they’d passed. He pointed to a shorter, shabbier townhouse than the ones surrounding it. “1612 Candlewick,” he said quietly.

“Ah.” She stood there a moment, arm muscles refusing to listen to her brain’s sensible order to let go of Jon now. “I . . . should probably get going.”

“Probably,” Jon said, and Kate forced her arm to pull away. He hesitated for a second, then shoved both of his hands into his pockets. “I could maybe . . .”

She shook her head, trying to ignore her suddenly cold fingers. “I don’t know how long I’ll be.” Her arm lifted a fraction, but she pulled it back when she realized that touching his hand again was probably an extremely bad idea. “It’s . . .” She took a deep breath. “It’s been very nice meeting you, Jon.”

It was about the dumbest thing she could have said to him, but that didn’t really matter, because this was undoubtedly the last time she’d ever see the man again. Which was a good thing, really, and she should be relieved they were saying goodbye before anything terrible happened.

Which she was. Really.

Jon stood there for a moment, not saying anything, then nodded. “You too, Kate.” He turned and walked back up the street.

Quickly, Kate turned the opposite direction and headed toward the yard behind 1612.



Kate hid behind a decorative wall before transporting herself into the townhouse, deciding that bright lights and purple smoke might bring a little more attention from the neighborhood insomniacs than she’d like. Once she was inside, she padded through the dark kitchen over to a small, appropriately shabby room that always held the poor yet attractive young relative. Pushing back the dingy curtain and wiping her hand on her skirt, she gave a resigned sigh and pulled it out of her pocket.

By it, she meant the Official Fairy Godmother’s Incorporated Grand Entrance Accessories Package, Royal Class B Model (testing not yet completed). A few explosions had already been reported, but management refused to go back to the far more reliable earlier model. “Can’t do without the background accompaniment,” they said. “We’re certain our dedicated field agents are good enough to work out any minor bugs for themselves. After all, we thought you were worth hiring, didn’t we?”

As always, Kate didn’t touch anything without consulting the instruction manual first. (Apparently, things needed to be done in proper order to keep swans from going crazy—poor Missy was a harsh enough lesson for even the most stubborn Fairy Godmother.) Pushing buttons A, B, and E at the same time started the spotlight, while pushing C and then E started the mist. Since nothing had gone wrong yet, Kate went on to add the background music, rose petals, and miniature spinning disco balls. Skipping the sections on swans and trained doves—after all, there wasn’t anyone around to tell on her—she went through the steps on confetti and fireworks a bit faster than she should.

Tulle, it seemed, caught on fire only slightly more slowly than confetti.

“Um, could you use some help with that?”

Of course, the client would have woken up by now. “No,” Kate snapped, pretending she still had some dignity left. “I think I have it under control.”

Once she was sure the fire on her skirt was safely out, Kate looked up to see Cinderella staring at her with avid interest. “I think one of your swans flew out the window,” the girl offered, pushing her impossibly golden hair out of the way of her soft violet eyes. “I can wait here, if you need to go get it.”

Kate decided to pretend she hadn’t heard that part. That way, she wouldn’t have to feel guilty about it. “Don’t worry about it.” Kicking the last disco ball out of the way, she straightened herself out the best that she could and resumed a decent approximation of the official greeting pose. “Hello, Cinderella. I’m your Fairy Godmother.” After a long pause, Kate shot the girl a stern look. “If we could avoid mentioning the fire from this point out, I’d appreciate it.”

As it turned out, however, Kate needn’t have worried. “Oh, that wasn’t fire, that was just smoke,” Cinderella said dismissively. “I can do that just by cooking.” Her forehead furrowed in thought. “I’m not supposed to feed you, am I? Because dinner sort of turned green and bubbly, and I threw it out because not even Belzie would eat it. She eats everything, which might be bad for the people at the party thing they decided to go to.” She looked up at Kate. “Have you ever had food turn green and bubbly?”

“Ah . . . no.” Valiantly, Kate tried to yank the conversation back to its original purpose. “Actually, I’m—”

“You can call me Rellie, by the way.” Rellie pushed down her covers a bit more, revealing arms covered in appropriately ragged nightgown sleeves and a couple of small, incredibly out of place pink bows. “I’m sorry I don’t have my tragic heroine dirt on—I usually put it on in the mornings.”

“That’s okay,” Kate said firmly. “It’s not going to matter in a few minutes, because I’m here to give you something.” The phrasing from the official script loomed in her head, and Kate closed her eyes a moment in annoyance before giving in. “Something like ‘the one secret wish of your pure, gentle, and cruelly abused young heart,’ to be more precise.”

Rellie’s forehead wrinkled in confusion. “But what if I don’t know the secret wish of my pure . . . whatever the rest of that was? Do you have a test or something to help me find out?”

Kate paused, a little surprised by the question and how rarely it came up. Most of the clients she talked to felt that finding a husband and moving up in the world fit in nicely with what they wanted for themselves. She was tempted to like the girl. “I’m sorry, but no. The company just assumes that your heart’s desire is going to be wearing a fancy dress to a royal ball, riding in a nice carriage, eating too much cake, and somehow or other making the prince fall madly in love with you.”

“Oh.” Rellie’s brow furrowed even further. “But that’s kind of stupid, isn’t it, just assuming what somebody’s heart’s desire is going to turn out to be? I mean, not that dancing and cake and princes aren’t nice and all, but what if what I’ve always really wanted to be was a rhinoceros—”

“A rhinoceros?” Kate repeated in astonishment, stalling for a chance to think. Please, don’t let the girl mention elephants.“I suppose I could turn you into a goat if you really wanted, but a rhino’s a little out of my league. Besides, this isn’t exactly the best climate for that sort of animal. Think of the transportation costs.”

“Oh, I wasn’t saying that I wanted to be a rhinoceros. From what I’ve heard, they’re kind of smelly, and only the baby ones are cute.” Rellie’s face gave no sign that she’d considered Kate’s response anything but totally serious. “I’m just saying that it’s a perfectly good thing to want, and that somebody somewhere probably does. It’s the kind of thing you should be prepared for, just in case it ever comes up.” Her eyes went distant. “A bunny rabbit, on the other hand . . .”

Deciding that she would be here all night if she let this continue, Kate snapped her fingers to get the girl’s attention. “I’ll be sure to list several possible animals when I mention it to my superiors,” she said as calmly as possible. “But right now all we have is the cake, the dancing, and the handsome prince.” At Rellie’s less-than-enthusiastic look, Kate took a step closer. “Really, feel free to ignore the whole ‘secret wish of the heart’ thing—someone in PR came up with that, and I don’t think any of them have ever actually met a client. Think of it more as a sort of . . . prepackaged adventure.”

When Rellie started looking confused again, Kate sighed. “I can probably make the dress furry if you want.”

This perked her up. “Will it make me look like a bunny rabbit?”

Feeling the sudden urge for sarcasm about to overwhelm her, Kate took a deep breath and silently schooled herself into patience. “It’s a little warm for fur, but I’m certain that something more like a swan or a big wedding cake would be more than doable.” Now, if she could keep Rellie from asking questions for just a couple of minutes . . .

Rellie opened her mouth, like she was about to say something, then seemed to think better of it and shrugged. “I’d prefer a big pink birthday cake instead of a wedding cake, if you don’t mind. The frosting on wedding cakes never seems soft enough. Ice cream, though . . .”

Kate sighed again. “Ice cream?”

“Oh, yes—” She flinched, one porcelain hand coming up to cover her eyes as if she realized a problem with something she’d said. “But don’t tell everyone else that I even know about things like ice cream and wedding cakes, okay, let alone eat them? Maleeva, Lucinda, and Belzie get so upset when I say things like that, and then there’s all this squawking and running around . . .”

“I promise I won’t say anything,” Kate interjected quickly, not wanting to get her started again. “And Maleeva and company are your wicked stepfamily, I suppose?” Which, naturally, was one of the many things no one had bothered to mention in the file. With her luck, there was probably even a ferocious guard dog around her somewhere, just waiting for a Fairy Godmother-flavored snack.

Rellie blinked. “My stepmother and stepsisters. They practice every day to be very, very wicked, and strive to do their part to make sure I have the appropriate upbringing for an abused innocent.” The last bit was said with all the inflection of a dutifully memorized line.

“I’m sure they have. Now, though, we have other things to worry about.” Kate held up a wand, hoping to distract Rellie from any more potential segues. “Like getting started on your wonderful, possibly furry dress?”

“Okay, as long as you think it’s fine without the extra dirt. Maleeva always gets so annoyed with me when I forget in the morning.”

At least she wasn’t asking for a dozen pink doves to follow her around everywhere, Kate reminded herself as she held up her wand. “Okay. They don’t like us to mention this part, but I need some actual fabric for the spell to turn into your fantasy dress. Do you want me to just use the nightgown you have on, or is there something—”

The rest of the question was cut off by the sound of maniacal barking. Kate jumped and whipped around to face the door. She deserved it, she guessed, for being stupid enough to even think about something like a psychotic guard dog.

She turned back to find a perfectly calm Rellie, fingers over her ears. “Please tell me that thing belongs to the neighbor,” said Kate.

Rellie squinted at her. “What did you say? I can’t hear you with my fingers in my ears.”

Taking a deep breath, Kate walked over and pulled Rellie’s fingers out of her ears. Then, she leaned close and raised her voice to be heard over the sound of the dog, not wanting to ask a third time. “Is that your stepmother’s dog?”

Rellie nodded. “She calls him Demon Beast.” She shrugged at Kate’s disbelieving expression. “He can get a little crabby sometimes, particularly when someone interrupts his beauty sleep. Not that it helps much.”

“Is there a way to get him to stop?”

Rellie thought about it. “Well, getting rid of whoever’s interrupted his beauty sleep usually helps.”

Making an exasperated noise, Kate left Rellie’s room and went to the nearest kitchen window to see if she could figure out who she was going to have to try and save. When she caught sight of the dark silhouette standing on top of the decorative wall, dangerously close to where the barking was coming from, her treacherous brain recognized the shape. “Jon?” she breathed, then realized that wasn’t going to get her anywhere. Quickly, she swung open the window and called, “Jon!”

The dark head turned. “Be with you in a second.” His voice sounded far too cool and collected for someone that close to potentially losing a limb. The barking intensified, and his gaze immediately snapped down to the source of the noise. “Just as soon as I figure out how to do it in one piece.”

Rellie moved to stand beside Kate at the window. “Oh, poor guy. Do you know him?”

Kate opened her mouth, fully intending to provide some sort of intelligent explanation that was a complete lie. Nothing quite came out because, well, that was Jon just outside the window. “He’s a . . . friend of mine,” she said, far too entranced for her own good. Thankfully, reflex threw in a last-second addition. “My assistant.”

“Then you’re probably going to want to get him in here, then.” Rellie shook her head with a sigh. “Really, have you thought about getting a knight of some sort instead? With all that smiting they do, they’d be so much more useful in this sort of situation.”