Kimberly Cates's Jubilee Point

A Perfect Match

The trouble with fairy godmothers was they never hung around long enough to see how their magic turned out, twenty-seven-year-old Rowena Brown thought, racing up the steps to the Whitewater Sheriff’s office. Now, Cinderella— she’d gotten the lowdown about the coach turning back into a pumpkin come midnight. And in Sleeping Beauty— even the Disney version— Maleficent blabbed to the whole kingdom about the princess’s pricking-her-finger-on-a-spindle clause.

But when Great-Auntie Maeve MacKinnon from County Meath had predicted Rowena would meet her soul mate in this quaint Illinois town, the ninety-year-old Irishwoman had failed to mention that three weeks after Rowena moved in, her personal bad boy would end up in the slammer for breaking and entering. God knew how much it was going to cost her to bail him out.

Rowena shook wisps of waist-long curls the color of daffo­dils out of her eyes and hugged her beloved red-and-gold tapestry bag tight against her in an effort to calm the butterflies rioting in her middle. Her sisters had claimed that Rowena could hide a kindergartener in the purse made out of a sal­vageable piece of antique Oriental rug she’d gotten at an art fair. Unfortunately, at the moment, she was about as likely to find bail money inside the thing as she was a gap-toothed five-year-old.

Every cent Rowena had she’d invested in spiffing up her new shop on Main Street: nailing on a roof that didn’t leak, buying bright chrome cages to line the walls and putting in a “get ac­quainted” room designed to tempt even the most retiring wall­flower to play. But if Clancy had already gotten himself in this much trouble, there was obviously one more accessory she needed to invest in. Stronger locks.