Clover navigated the modest, but bustling, morning market, stopping at various shops and stalls to purchase supplies for her birthday party. The scent of fruits, vegetables, and assorted roasted meats filled the air as villagers hawked their wares. Arriving before they closed up and headed to their day jobs, she knew she could bargain for better prices.
"Morning, Miss Clover!" called the butcher, packing up her order of cold cuts. "Me and the missus are looking forward to your party. I can't believe Glenaleen will have a fairy godmother again. No more having to wait until we go to Bryn or Dunmire."
With a polite smile, she handed over the payment, her mind heavy with the growing expectations and the upcoming metamorphosis.
At the cheese stand, the merchant wrapped up a wheel of velvety soft goat cheese. "Think you could magic me up a herd of self-milking goats after your birthday?" he asked with a wink. "Then I wouldn't have to pay Vakur Doyle to help."
"That would certainly be something if I could, but he likes helping out." Clover replied, moving on before he could respond.
The blacksmith was heating iron billets in his fiery forge as Clover scrutinized his selection of table knives and serving spoons. "I hear congratulations are in order. Our resident fairy girl is finally becoming a fairy godmother. I'm looking forward to you revitalizing the magic of Glenaleen. The effectiveness of my enchanted cutlery and tools has steadily declined every year since your mum died."
She bit her tongue. The party is a celebration of my transition into womanhood, not about taking over the job of a mother I don't remember.
Clover gathered her purchases and then struggled to keep from dropping all the party supplies as she rushed back home, her mind focused on the remaining tasks. She narrowly dodged her elderly neighbor, who ambled into her path. "Sorry, Mrs. O'Toole. Kind of in a hurry."
Mrs. O'Toole grabbed the sleeve of Clover's dress. "Turning sixteen today. You're going to get your wish powers like your mother! You know, I was one of her biggest customers."
"I hope to be as good as her someday," Clover said as she escaped what was certain to be a long, rambling story.
* * *
This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.
With time slipping away, Clover darted around the village green, swiftly adorning and arranging tables and benches for the party. Her neighbor and foster-father, Vakur Doyle, came to help. He was a tall, muscular man of Viking heritage. The task of hanging lanterns from the trees seemed effortless for him.
Their tasks complete, he grasped her shoulder with a massive, calloused hand. "You did an amazing job of transforming the place. Hard to believe the little Clover who used to ride on my shoulders is turning into a woman. Mrs. Doyle would have been so proud."
A sense of joy filled Clover as she reminisced about her years of care by Mrs. Doyle as she put out food for her guests.
As the last of the preparations were completed, guests began to arrive. Everyone buzzed with excitement about Clover becoming a fairy godmother. She overheard the baker wishing for an oven that could bake a dozen pies at once. A farmer wanted sheep with wool that came off as easy as removing a jacket.
As she mingled with her guests, a dull ache gnawed at her heart, casting a shadow over the festivities. The party was turning into a repeat of her experience at the market. Is no one here just to celebrate my birthday?
A loud, girlish squeal pierced the air as muscular arms wrapped around her, threatening to crush the air from her lungs. Lily!
Clover spun around. Lily was radiant in an elegant dress, a stark contrast to her usual work clothes. She had transformed from a sweaty, dirt-covered tomboy into a radiant young woman.
"Happy birthday, Clover. Goodness, it looks like the whole town is here," Lily said while stuffing an entire pastry in her mouth.
"They're all eager for me to become a fairy godmother. It's making me anxious because I don't feel any different," she confided.
As Lily spoke, bits of crust and filling erupted from her mouth like a miniature volcano. "Clover Quinn, you need to stop doubting yourself. You're going to be a great fairy godmother."
Clover hugged her friend tighter and rested her head on Lily's comforting shoulder. "What if I can't figure out how to grant wishes and disappoint everyone?"
"Then you'll learn and get better," Lily replied with assurance. "Besides, Glenaleen hasn't had a fairy godmother since we were toddlers. How bad could you be?"
She's right. If it were difficult, someone would have come and given me training before today. Her spirits lifted, Clover threw herself into the celebration. She flitted about like a hummingbird, doing her best to be a perfect host. Throughout the evening, she found herself laughing until her sides ached, watching Lily's clumsy attempts at courtship.
The love-struck girl was so focused on the fiddler that she often missed a step while dancing. Her attempts at flirting were even clumsier, but she'd fail and try again a few minutes later. She was as persistent as the rooster that had tormented them that morning.
The party lasted until the candles sputtered and dwindled, casting flickering shadows upon the partiers. She bid her guests goodnight.
The excitement of the party and her anticipation for the morning should have kept her awake. However, once she was alone, the lure of her bed was an irresistible force. She fell into the deepest sleep of her life.