Fairy Godmothers, Inc_ - By Jenniffer Wardell Page 0,3
self-preservation was ready with the muzzle before any damage could be done—management didn’t approve of doing things the less efficient, old-fashioned way. “Because if so, my True Love use levels have been duly recorded.” After, of course, the amount Kate had been expected to use that month was safely disposed of. She’d rather just dump it down the sink, but the ethics of contaminating an entire water supply with extremely strong love potion was something she didn’t want to deal with. She had enough trouble dealing with the fact that it was considered part of the standard operating procedure, and silently fought against it with every bowl of custard or awkwardly sweet meeting in the garden that she could manage. Making a fuss never changed anything, but she took an immense amount of comfort in the fact that there were a handful of couples out there who were better off with Kate as their Fairy Godmother than anyone else.
“No, this isn’t your performance review.” Pursing her lips, Bubbles tapped a fingernail against the folder sitting in the center of her desk. “I just want to make sure you won’t embarrass me if I assign you a special project.”
Kate’s jaw tightened. She knew it was going to be something like this, but she’d hoped it was just her pessimism talking. Apparently, her pessimism was psychic. “If you don’t think I’m ready for a special project, I’ll understand completely if you assign it to someone else. I wouldn’t want to damage the company’s reputation.”
Bubbles narrowed her eyes. “When I get handed a last-minute assignment on top of double the case load I should be dealing with, I’m going to assign it to whatever Fairy Godmother I see fit.” She twisted the folder around so that it faced the opposite direction, then slid it across the desk until it was in front of Kate. “At the moment, that Fairy Godmother is you.”
Sensing that was her cue, Kate picked up the folder and opened it as carefully as if it contained something that might bite. On one side of the folder was a five-by-seven photograph of a young woman with golden blonde hair, huge violet eyes, and far more dirt than the usual “princess in hiding.” Beneath that was the stack of nearly blank forms required for the Fairy Godmothers, Inc. standard wish-fulfillment package. The only writing on the front form was the approval signature along the bottom, a very illegible and important-looking name Kate didn’t recognize.
Bubbles made a disgusted noise at Kate’s continued look of incomprehension, loud enough for Kate to look up from the folder. “It’s a special request from a member of the company’s board of directors, who is personally funding the package,” Bubbles explained coldly. “Not that I listen to office gossip, but I thought it prudent to let you know exactly who will be paying attention to this particular assignment of yours.”
The statement shot a quick spurt of panic through Kate’s chest, as Bubbles no doubt intended it to. Kate fought it down as she paged through the mostly empty forms, hoping to find something even vaguely useful about her new client. “None of the client’s specifications have been filled out, nothing about the dress, the dance, anything. I don’t even know the girl’s—” The sentence remained unfinished as she found the name, scrawled across the top of page two in only slightly more legible writing than the signature. For her sake, Kate hoped briefly that “Cinderella” was merely a terrible childhood nickname used only by the occasional relative. “I don’t even know who I’m supposed to be matching the girl up with. Is this sponsor paying for a prince, or will some sort of count or duke do?”
Bubbles slid a single sheet of printout across the table, the now familiar signature across the bottom and a sticky note attached to the front. “The girl gets the heir to the throne of Somewhere.” She tapped a finger against the note containing the information too specific to be safely included in the official legalese of the contract. After all, if a jealous witch turned a prince into a statue before the wedding, it was easier and more cost effective to find a replacement than disenchant him. “At the moment, that person is Rupert Devlin Golden Montclaire Charming: square-jawed, golden-haired, and a reputation for being what PR departments commonly refer to as a ‘rake.’”
That remark was a pointed suggestion to get the job done as quickly as possible. Princes who were