“It’s at the discretion of the witch, although most covens, ours included, prefer that a witch think long and hard before revealing herself. Because while there are those of us who live long happy lives with human partners, revealing one’s true self doesn’t always go well.”
“I can imagine. What about the town? The town has rules about that kind of stuff, right? And by the town, I mean the Ellinghams.”
Corette smiled a little. “It’s an unwritten but widely understood rule that the supernaturals in this town should protect each other. Not telling humans who they really are and what Nocturne Falls is actually about fall under that rule. But love is an exception to almost everything.”
“I’m not in love with him. Not yet. I do think it could happen, though.”
Corette reached out and took her daughter’s hand. “Then there’s your answer.”
“What?”
“You should wait until you’re in love.”
“What about Saffron?”
“She’s eleven. And in some ways, wise beyond her years. Don’t you think she’d want you to be happy? Don’t you think she’d understand that your dating Wyatt doesn’t mean he’s going to instantly become her new daddy?”
Marigold thought that over. “Yes to both those things. But I’m more worried about her getting attached to him, then things not working out and her heart getting broken.”
“You’re right. It’s something to worry about.” Corette patted Marigold’s hand. “But broken hearts heal.”
Marigold let out a groan. “Maybe I should just stay single until she’s out of the house like you did with us.”
“Oh, honey.” Corette chuckled softly as she released Marigold’s hand. “Do you not remember Uncle Roy?”
Marigold thought back. “Sure, I remember him. Whatever happened to him? How was he our uncle anyway?”
“He wasn’t.”
Her mouth fell open. “Are you telling me Uncle Roy was your boyfriend?”
Corette nodded. “Yes, for about two years. He was a lovely man, and we had a lot of fun together, but ultimately, he wasn’t ready to be daddy to three precocious witchlings. Our parting was amicable, though. And he helped me through a very lonely time in my life.”
“Two years? But I remember him being around more than that. Or…was he? He sent us Christmas gifts, didn’t he?”
“Yes. He sent you Christmas gifts for two more years after we broke up. Even though he wasn’t ready to be an instant father, he cared for you girls very much.”
“Huh.” Marigold sat back. “All this time I had no idea.”
Corette adjusted the lapel of her suit. “You don’t have to tell Saffie everything. Just what she needs to know. Be truthful, but be circumspect. Adults are allowed to have adult lives separate from their children.”
“I guess so.”
“Does that help?”
“Yes, it does. Thanks, Mom. You did a great job raising us, you know that?”
Corette’s smile was broad and unrestrained. “I do know that. Every time I look at you girls, I am reminded of how wonderful you are and how well you turned out.” She stood. “Now you should get back to work. You have a lot left to do.”
Marigold got to her feet. “How do you know that?”
Corette’s smile turned sly. “You just told me.”
Wyatt sat in his SUV, staring through the windshield at the cars passing by on Main Street.
He wasn’t ready to return to the hotel in Millersville. What would he do there? He could go to the fitness center and work out, he supposed, but then what? Get a shower and have dinner by himself? Watch a little mindless television? That all sounded so sad.
Staying in Nocturne Falls seemed like a better idea. Especially if he was entertaining the idea of moving here. He snorted. How things changed. He’d always considered himself a city guy, but Nocturne Falls might be all right. It seemed to be a fairly hopping place, what with the tourist industry.
Would he get enough PI work here to pay his bills? That part he wasn’t sure of.
He sat for a bit longer, watching cars and people. He didn’t really know what to do with himself. Odd as it seemed, he missed being in the shop with Marigold and Leah. It had nothing to do with the flowers, but everything to do with the company.
Of course, he’d see Marigold tomorrow at the auction. But then he might never see her again.
He tipped his head back against the headrest and exhaled. He didn’t want to think that way. Not when he’d put himself out there to her like he never had before.
But it was a possibility. She could absolutely decide she didn’t want to take things further than their platonic wedding date. Or maybe she’d think it was best her daughter didn’t get to know him for fear she’d get attached and he’d flake.
He wouldn’t flake. She had to know that, right? He might have some serious baggage, but that baggage was the exact reason he wasn’t going to up and disappear. Especially not when there was a child involved. She’d get that, wouldn’t she?
He hoped so. He liked being with Marigold. He liked the way he felt around her, the way things were so easy with her. Even if there was some strange stuff going on with her. And this town. He could overlook all that if she gave him the green light.
His thoughts took a new direction. What was her daughter like? What had Marigold said, that the little girl was eleven? He had no idea what eleven-year-old little girls were like.
Would she like him? He grimaced. That might be a long shot. What kid was going to look at him and think, yeah, there’s my new best friend? Maybe he should get her a present. That might help tip the scales. He wasn’t above bribery for a good cause.
But what did you get for an eleven-year-old girl? And where did you shop? He might as well have been contemplating life on Mars for all he knew about the subject.
He straightened up and grabbed his phone. He typed into the search bar: gifts for girls nocturne falls. Then he hit enter.
The first place on the list was Santa’s Workshop. Apparently, Nocturne Falls had a toy store. Perfect. They’d be able to help him in there. He hoped. He checked the address and laughed.
The shop was right by Howler’s, which wasn’t far from Marigold’s store, which meant he’d already walked past the place a few times. He jumped out of the car and headed over.
The shop was really something inside. The air even smelled like Christmas, or what he imagined Christmas smelled like. Holidays were sketchy when you were a foster kid and nonexistent when you were a homicide detective with no family. At least for him, they’d been nonexistent, but then, he’d always picked up holiday shifts so those with families could enjoy them.
The girl behind the counter was cute in an elfin sort of way. Button nose, smattering of freckles, blue hair. He shook his head. The crazy-colored hair thing still seemed odd to him, but on her, it looked almost natural.
“Hi there,” she said. “Welcome to Santa’s Workshop. Can I help you with anything today?”
“Yes, you can. I need a gift for an eleven-year-old girl. I don’t know her tastes at all. Actually, I haven’t met her yet.”
“Hmm.” The girl pursed her lips. “You’re not making it easy on me, are you?” Then she laughed. “It’s okay, we’ll figure it out. Making kids happy is what we do. Can you tell me anything about her?”
“Not really. I only know her mom, and she likes flowers. She owns the flower shop here in town.”
“Oh, is this gift for Saffron?”
“Yes. Do you know her?” He’d definitely come to the right place.
“We keep a wish list registry for the locals. Come on, let’s go take a look.”
“That’s a brilliant idea.” He followed her to the counter. “I’m Wyatt, by the way. Thanks for your help.”
She took out a big leather-bound book from under the counter. He’d expected her to look something up on the computer, but whatever worked. “I’m Juniper. And happy to help.”
She flipped the
big book open and ran her finger down the page, searching the list of names. “Here we go. Saffron Williams. Looks like she’s got two things on the list. A Hogwarts paint-by-numbers set and the light-up terrarium kit.”
“Hogwarts is Harry Potter, right?”
“Right,” Juniper said.
“Sorry. I’m not as up on popular culture as I probably should be.” Considering that Marigold owned a flower shop and had told him that she had a greenhouse in her backyard, Wyatt wasn’t surprised by the terrarium. But the Hogwarts paint by numbers was a little more interesting. Which one would Saffron like better? “Any idea which one she wants more?”
“I’d say the paint by numbers. It was out of stock last time she asked for it, so she’s been wanting it for a while.”
“Done.” He got his wallet out. “Any chance you can gift wrap?”
Juniper smiled. “We can make that happen.”
“How was school?” Marigold wasn’t sure how to broach the subject of Wyatt with Saffron, but it wasn’t going to be directly. She wanted to work up to it and find the right moment. Dinner conversation seemed like a good time to make it happen.
“Good,” Saffron said, taking a bite of her chicken fingers. “I changed the colors of a butterfly’s wings today.”
Marigold held her forkful of green beans aloft. “You did what?”
Saffron shrugged. “Mrs. Fipple said I could try. I don’t think she thought I could do it.”
“Mrs. Fipple isn’t one of your teachers. Who is she, actually? That name isn’t familiar.”
“She’s the magic lab monitor.”
“Does that mean you were in the magic lab?” It was Marigold’s understanding that Harmswood’s magic lab was for older students. Students whose powers were fully seated.
Saffron rolled her eyes. “Mom, it’s not like I can’t go in there. I am a witch, you know.”
“You’re not a witch yet, not fully. At best, you’re a fledgling. Were you in there alone?”
“No, I just told you. Mrs. Fipple was in there.”
Marigold didn’t like this at all. “But you went in alone?”
“No, Miss Boschman took me in there because I told her my powers were starting to come in, and she said we should go to the magic lab and see.”
Miss Boschman was Saffie’s pre-spells teacher. “Uh huh. Okay.” This was all happening too fast. “So you changed the colors on a butterfly’s wings? How did that go?”
She shrugged like it was no big deal. “It was easy.”
Easy was relative, and Marigold was sure Saffie wanted to show off a little in front of her mother. “How many tries?”
“One.”
Marigold swallowed. Sweet snapdragons. “One try.”
“Yep.”
“Did the butterfly live through it?”
“Mom.” Saffron sighed. “Yes.”
“Just asking.” Marigold shook her head. “That’s…impressive.”
“That’s what Mrs. Fipple and Miss Boschman said. My guidance counselor wants to have a meeting with you to discuss my placement in some new classes. I brought a note home.”
“I’ll read it right after dinner.” And so it began. Marigold wasn’t sure if she was ready to have a gifted fledgling witch in the house. On one hand, it was amazing. On the other, Saffie was growing up faster than Marigold could stand. She changed the subject. “Are you excited about Aunt Pandie’s wedding?”
“Yes!” Saffron grinned. “Of course I am. After all, Kaley and I are junior bridesmaids, and Charlie is the ring bearer, so it’s basically like Charlie and I are practicing for our wedding for real.”
“No, it’s not like that at all.” Marigold laughed. “You need to calm down or that poor child is going to run screaming for the hills. Or howling. Whatever werewolves do.”
“No way,” Saffie said. “Charlie loves me.”
“I have no doubt he does. You are very lovable. But you might still want to lay off the marriage talk just a little.” Marigold took a breath and dove in. “Speaking of the wedding, I have a date.”
Saffie looked up from her mac and cheese. “You do? With who?”
“A nice man you haven’t met yet. His name is Mr. West.”
“He sounds old.”
Marigold pursed her lips. “He’s not old. He’s about my age.”
Saffron made a face. “So he’s old.”
“Saffie, behave.”
She grinned. “Do you like him?”
“Yes, I like him.”
“Are you going to marry him?”
Marigold almost choked on a green bean. “Slow your roll, missy. I’m not about to marry him any more than I’m going to marry anyone else.”
“What does that mean?”
“We’re friends, sweetheart. That’s really all that’s going on between us right now.”
Saffron tipped her head. “Have you kissed him?”
Marigold was not answering that. “Eat your green beans.”
“Ew, you have kissed him.” She stuck her tongue out.
Marigold just smiled. If Saffie still thought kissing was gross, then maybe Charlie was safe for a little while longer.
Wyatt wasn’t going to be, however, because if he and Marigold were going to be a couple, kissing was going to be high up on the list of activities.
At long last, she was moving out of Singletown and looking at a lease in Datingville.
Wyatt stood at the back of the auction house, looking for a seat. And Marigold, although she’d texted him to say she wouldn’t be there for a few more minutes, so he didn’t expect to see her just yet.
He was very much aware that she’d given him no indication of her answer, either. But he wasn’t freaking out about that at all.
He went back to looking. His spot near the wall was gone. He was going to have to sit somewhere else. Maybe that third aisle would be—someone poked him in the back.
He turned. And smiled. Marigold. “Hey.”
She answered by leaning up and kissing him on the lips. It was half a second of contact, but it almost knocked him over. She smiled as the kiss ended. “Hey.”
It took him a moment to reorganize his thoughts. “I, uh…hi.”
She laughed. “Did you get us seats?”
“Whoa. Hold up. You just kissed me. I can’t ignore that. Does that mean—”
“Yes. I’m willing to try.”
He almost yelled. He wasn’t the kind of guy who yelled, but this was something that felt worth yelling about. He didn’t. Well, maybe a little internal yelling. Externally, he grinned. Hard. “That is good news. Really good news.”
“I guess we’ll see, won’t we?”
He nodded. “You look beautiful, by the way.” She did. She was wearing a little sundress with yellow flowers and a jean jacket and sandals. Her toes were painted pink. Like bubblegum. He was nuts about how perfect she was.
“Thanks. You look nice too.”
He’d shaved, but otherwise he was wearing pretty much the same thing he always wore. Jeans and a T-shirt with a jacket and boots. He might need to work on that. “You’re just being kind. We should find some seats.”
“Wherever you want to sit is fine with me. I’m only staying as long as it takes for the items to come up, then I’m taking them home and going to the shop to work on wedding flowers.”
She seemed pretty confident she was going to win the bookends. Poor thing. “How about those two on the end of the third aisle?”
“Perfect.” She started forward.
He put his hand on the small of her back to follow her, and a sudden, possessive thrill ran through him. This beautiful woman had agreed to go out with him. And he wanted other men to know it. Apparently, being around Marigold made him a caveman.
The urge to grunt and pound his chest must not be far behind. Was that what love did to a man?
Not that he loved her. Not yet. It was way too soon for that. But he liked her very much. Too much, maybe. He’d better dial it back or she’d thi
nk he was a stage-five clinger.
They settled into their seats, and he put his arm around her, mostly on the back of her chair, but still touching her.
She glanced at it, smirking with blatant amusement. “You sure stake your claim fast.”
He shrugged. “You greeted me with a kiss there, speedy.”
She giggled. “Okay, good point.”
He settled back, unable to remove the smile from his face and not wanting to. This was going to be fun. Scary. But he could do this, because he wanted to do this. Marigold was a beautiful woman, a solid citizen, a savvy business owner, and no doubt, a fabulous mom. All of that made him positive she was going to be an excellent girlfriend, too.
He was not going to screw this up. If this went south, it would be her doing. Her decision.
She leaned over. “You know I’m going to win these bookends.”
He shook his head slowly. “Sorry, sweetheart, can’t let you do that.”
Her expression turned sly. “Oh, really? And how much do you have to spend?”
Suzanne had bumped him up to ten grand, but he didn’t want to give that away and end the little game going on here. “I’m afraid that’s confidential detective-client information.”
“Is that actually a thing?”
He answered with another question. “How much do you have?”
She crossed her arms and shot him a smug look. “More than you.”
He snorted. “You do not.”
“I might.”
“True. But you don’t.”
She wrinkled her nose. “I’m going to win.”
He straightened up a little. “Let’s make this interesting. Winner makes the loser breakfast.”
An odd light filled her eyes, and she whispered, “Is this a sex thing? Because I’m not ready for that.”
He almost choked on his own breath, somehow managing not to fall out of his chair. “No. I meant as in going out for breakfast. Like for those pancakes at that diner.”
“Oh.” Her eyes widened, and she laughed. “Okay, let’s do that.”
The Detective Wins The Witch (Nocturne Falls Book 10) Page 12