by Cindy Kirk
“Good morning, dear sister. I hope you slept well.” Marigold sat and moved the mug with the now-tepid coffee back in front of her. Though her heart continued to race and her lips tingled, the smile she offered her sister was easy. “You look rested.”
Cade stood absolutely still, his face expressionless.
Sit down, she silently urged. The lawman didn’t appear to get the message. Or if he received it, he chose not to respond. Marigold was just grateful he didn’t apologize.
In her mind, an apology might have been necessary if her sister and Beck had come in and found her and Cade naked and having sex on the kitchen table. Unfortunately, they’d been interrupted before that had become a possibility. Pity.
Ami opened her mouth. Shut it.
Beck appeared to be hiding a smile.
“Thanks for the coffee, Beck.” Cade broke the silence. “I need to check with a few more of your neighbors.”
His gaze shifted to Marigold. “Be seeing you.”
The slight tilt of Cade’s head told her that although he hadn’t voiced a question, he had one.
“I’ll be around,” she told him. “For a while, anyway.”
The slow smile that stole over his handsome face was like kerosene on an open fire. When he’d been kissing her, all thoughts of the mess that was now her life had been burned away in the fiery flames of passion. Was it wrong to wish she could have lingered in that place a little while longer?
In minutes Cade was gone and Marigold was left with her sister. And with a brother-in-law who’d given up all attempts to hide his amusement.
“Prim called,” Ami told her. “She wondered if we were free for lunch. She’d like to meet us at Muddy Boots.”
Marigold took a long sip of the strong chicory blend and tried not to grimace. She loved coffee, but it had to be hot or cold, not lukewarm. “Sounds good to me.”
“I’ll tell her we’ll meet at noon.” Ami pulled the phone from her pocket and stepped from the room, leaving Beck alone with Marigold.
She gestured with her head. “Ami is probably telling Prim she walked in on Cade and me kissing.”
Beck smiled. “Probably.”
Marigold pushed aside the tepid coffee. “Should be an interesting lunch.”
Chapter Four
“Too bad Beck doesn’t have a liquor license or we could have wine with lunch,” Marigold commented as she pulled out a chair and took a seat at the gray Formica table opposite Ami.
Nearly every table in Muddy Boots, the café that Beck had purchased sight unseen, was doing a booming business. Knowing that some of the patrons had likely just stumbled out of bed, for today only, breakfast was being served all day.
“We may not have wine, but we do have chocolate.”
Prim’s announcement had both sisters swiveling their gazes to her.
“I brought a bag of Doves with me.” Primrose grabbed the chair to Marigold’s right. “For dessert.”
Ami’s green eyes glittered. “Or an appetizer?”
“I like the way you think, big sister.” Marigold stuck out her hand.
“You two are worse than my boys.” Still, Prim smiled as she pulled the paper bag from her purse. With great precision—she was, after all, an accountant—Prim carefully counted out three pieces of the heart-shaped candies wrapped in red foil to each of them.
Marigold had the first of hers unwrapped and in her mouth in less than five seconds. “Ohmigosh these are decadent.”
“After all of the sweets I had at the party last night, I shouldn’t have any more, but—” Prim paused and carefully unwrapped a piece. Gazing at it for a moment, she sighed before popping it into her mouth. Her lips curved up. “I adore chocolate.”
Marigold recognized the dark-haired waitress who sauntered over to take their order as Anita’s granddaughter. None of the Bloom sisters held that fact against the college student.
“Hi, Dakota.” Ami flashed a smile in the young woman’s direction. “My sisters and I decided to get together for a New Year’s Day luncheon.”
Dakota cast a glance in Marigold’s direction and offered a shy smile. “I didn’t know you were back.”
“You never know where or when I might turn up.” Marigold pressed one of the candies into the waitress’s hand. “This is for you. Everyone should start the new year with chocolate.”
“Thanks.” Surprise flickered over Dakota’s face before she pocketed the heart-shaped piece of foil. She gazed expectantly at the three sisters. “What can I get you?”
They quickly ordered, and the young girl had barely stepped out of earshot before both Ami and Prim settled their gazes on Marigold. “Tell us what happened. What brought you back to Good Hope?”
As she struggled to know where to begin, Marigold remembered what their mother had always told her daughters when they needed to explain something. Begin at the beginning.
“I’ve mentioned before how stressful it’s been at the salon this past year. Steffan’s moods have been all over the map.” Marigold nibbled on the second piece of candy. “It got so I never knew how he’d be when I walked in the door.”
Both sisters murmured sympathies but their eyes remained focused on her. The ball remained in her court.
She received a momentary respite when Dakota returned with their drinks: iced tea for her and Prim, milk for Ami. As business was hopping, Dakota didn’t linger.
“Steffan fired me.” Although being told her services were no longer needed had knocked her to her knees, Marigold managed to keep her tone matter-of-fact. “The day I returned from Christmas break, he called me into his office and gave me my walking papers. What a lovely Christmas gift.”
Sarcasm wove through those last words like a ribbon around a prettily wrapped package.
Though her sisters must have suspected something of the sort had occurred—or else why would she be back in Good Hope so soon?—the astonished looks mixed with outrage on their faces warmed her heart.
“He’s been your mentor since you got out of beauty school.” Prim’s brow furrowed, distress evident in her tone.
“I remember when he first contacted you about working for him.” Ami’s gaze took on a faraway look. “It was after your success with the mayor’s wife. The article in the Sun-Times brought you to his attention.”
“The chance to work with him, to learn from him, was a dream come true.” Eight years ago Marigold had moved to Chicago to attend cosmetology school and had found her niche.
She discovered she had a gift for looking at a person’s face and knowing the best cut and color for the bone structure. Her obvious talent had created a buzz.
The mayor’s wife, who’d had a rags-to-riches rise when she’d married an up-and-coming politician, visited the school shortly before Marigold’s graduation. Marigold had been chosen to do her hair.
It was a publicity stunt designed to show that the mayor and his family hadn’t forgotten their working-class roots. The newspaper feature had drawn the attention of Steffan Oliver, an industry legend, who’d recently relocated his popular LA salon to Chicago’s Gold Coast.
“I was over the moon when he offered me a job.” Marigold’s lips curved up. Despite all that had happened, there was pride in her voice. “Steffan is so incredibly talented. I can’t tell you how many people fly in just so he can cut their hair. I couldn’t believe he wanted me.”
“I swear we heard you screaming all the way in Good Hope.” Ami’s face was soft with the memory. “Mom would have been so proud.”
The pleasantness of the moment shattered like crystal on tile. Marigold hadn’t known how sick her mother had been when she’d left for cosmetology school. By the time she’d graduated and received her job offer, Sarah Bloom had passed away.
A familiar knot of bitterness twisted inside her. She’d never have left Good Hope if she’d known her mother had been so ill.
“You worked for Steffan a long time.” Prim lifted her glass of tea to her lips, her eyes never leaving her baby s
ister’s face.
The noise in the café had gone up several decibels since they’d first sat down. It seemed as if everyone had decided at the same time to yell out a greeting to a friend across the dining room or laugh loudly at some joke. Marigold closed her eyes briefly and fought to stay focused.
“Six years.” Marigold’s voice sounded hollow, even to her own ears. “I considered him a friend as well as a mentor.”
“I remember you mentioning last summer he’d been owly,” Ami mused.
“Not just with you,” Prim reminded her. “You said clients were beginning to notice.”
“The trouble between him and his partner was escalating. I knew how much Marc meant to him. He was the reason Steffan relocated his business to Chicago.” Marigold sighed. “I thought they were a perfect match. They seemed so happy.”
“What does the upheaval in his personal relationship have to do with him firing you?” Ami spoke softly, in deference to the customers seated nearby.
Before she could respond, Dakota arrived with their salads. Marigold waited until the girl stepped away to answer. She’d given the matter a lot of thought on the drive back to Good Hope. “I think when someone’s personal life is in turmoil, the unhappiness can’t help but spill into their professional life as well.”
Her sisters looked at each other and nodded agreement.
“His clients had definitely begun to notice. He was distant, distracted, even snappish at times.” Marigold grimaced. “His behavior became a huge concern to everyone in the salon.”
“I can imagine,” Ami said.
“Clients who patronize the Steffan Oliver Salon expect to be pampered and fawned over from the second they step through the gilt-edged doors. Several of his clients became so upset they asked to be transferred to me.”
“Uh-oh.” Prim made a face. “I see where this is heading.”
“Yeah, uh-oh. Shortly after Thanksgiving, Steffan accused me of stealing his clients, of undermining him.” Marigold stabbed a piece of endive with extra vigor. “I assured him I was as shocked as he was by the requests. I don’t think he believed me.”
Ami’s hand closed over hers for a little squeeze. “Why didn’t you tell us all this at Christmas?”
“So the guy was stressed and bitchy. That behavior had become the new status quo.” Marigold lifted one shoulder, let it drop. “Besides, why dwell on something so negative when we had more important things to discuss, like Prim’s new husband.”
“Who, by the way, is absolutely wonderful.” Ami beamed at her sister. “Our Prim found her prince, not once, but twice.”
“I’m a lucky gal. I love being married to Max.” Prim’s newfound happiness showed, from the face that glowed with happiness to the warmth in her voice each time she spoke her husband’s name.
“I’m happy for you.” Marigold gave her sister’s hand a squeeze.
Prim had endured so much in her young life. She’d become a widow nearly three years ago when her husband had been killed in a climbing accident. She’d reconnected with Max when she’d moved back to Good Hope last year.
Like I reconnected with Cade, Marigold thought, then chided herself. It wasn’t the same at all.
Prim and Max had been friends since childhood. She and Cade had only been lovers.
Marigold looked up when Ami squeezed her hand. “I still wish you’d have confided in me, in us.”
“We not only had Prim’s marriage to discuss, but we had”—Marigold felt her insides soften when she thought of the blessed event that would take place this spring—“to talk about anything and everything to do with Baby Cross.”
Her eldest sister had such a nurturing spirit. When the big 3-0 loomed for Ami with no prospects in sight, Marigold had worried she might be single forever. Which would have been a shame for a woman who had so much love to give. “I’m envious of the life you’re building with Beck.”
Ami’s hand dropped to rest protectively on the curve of her barely noticeable baby bump. “My life is like a wonderful dream.”
“Mine is like one big nightmare.” Marigold regretted uttering the flippant words the instant they left her mouth.
“I’m so sorry—” Ami began.
“Steffan’s a jerk.” Prim spat the words. “If he ever shows his face in Good Hope, I’ll tell him that to his face.”
Marigold would have chuckled at her mild-mannered sister uttering such a vehement sentiment if she hadn’t been so touched.
“I appreciate the support, more than you’ll ever know.” She gazed down at the last unwrapped chocolate in her hand. “I believe time will show it was all for the best.”
“He just called you in out of the blue and fired you?” Ami apparently was unwilling to drop the subject without gathering more details.
Prim tossed several more chocolates in front of Marigold.
Marigold popped another in her mouth. After letting the taste of chocolate linger on her tongue for several seconds, she washed the rest down with a sip of tea.
She’d convinced herself she had come to grips with what had happened on that horrible day. All the way to Good Hope, Marigold had soothed herself by repeating one of her mother’s favorite sayings over and over: when one door closes, another opens.
“I never saw it coming.” Now, when her voice trembled and nearly broke, she realized she was still grieving the loss of her life in Chicago. When she was ten, Marigold had vowed to outshine her older sisters. She’d been so close to achieving that goal. Failure, even temporary failure, was a bitter pill to swallow.
The worry blanketing her sisters’ faces only made matters worse. Prim and Ami had their own lives, likely their own issues weighing on their minds. She didn’t want them worrying about her.
“I still don’t understand why he would do such a thing. Why would he get rid of his star employee?”
Lost in her thoughts, Marigold wasn’t sure which sister asked the question. Then again, did it really matter?
“I don’t know.” Marigold glanced out the window, the scene as cold and bleak as her emotions. “Perhaps he simply wanted to make someone—that would be me—as miserable as he was. Like I said, he was jealous some of his clients had scheduled with me. Part of it may have been that I was the one chosen to be the lead hairstylist for Couture Fashion Week. But this is all conjecture. When I pressed for a reason, he refused to give one.”
His cold dismissal, as if they’d meant nothing to each other, had hurt the most.
“Despite all his drama the past year, I remained loyal to him. I really believed we were friends.” Marigold picked at the edges of her napkin with her fingertips. “I was wrong.”
She pushed the salad aside, her stomach as unsettled as her hands.
“Surely there are dozens of other salons in Chicago ready to snap you up. You are, after all, the supremely talented Marigold Bloom.”
Even as the knife twisted in her chest, Ami’s faith brought a smile to Marigold’s lips. “I made a few inquiries. Not one bite. When I called the producer of the fashion show to update my contact information, they told me Steffan had already informed them I was relocating and he’d be taking my position.”
“He blackballed you.” Prim’s voice was low and tight.
Marigold glanced in her normally mild-mannered sister’s direction and found hazel eyes as hard as topaz. She nodded. “Appears so.”
“You—you should sue,” Ami sputtered. “He’s obviously defamed your character. I can ask Beck—”
Marigold closed her hand over her Ami’s. “The charges would be difficult to prove and wouldn’t serve me well professionally in the long run.”
Ami’s green eyes were incredulous. “Are you telling me you’re going to sit back and let him get away with this?”
“Of course not.” Marigold’s lips curved in a catlike smile. “Haven’t you heard the best revenge is massive success? Mark my words. Steffan Oliver will rue the day he showed me the door.”
“You’re not letting any gr
ass grow under your feet, baby girl.” Steve Bloom’s smile shone as bright as the overhead sun.
Marigold followed her father’s gaze back to the empty storefront.
“You know me. I like to keep busy.” Marigold studied the small space on Main Street. Until November the spot had been occupied by Carly’s Cut and Curl, home of the neon dancing scissors sign. Marigold suppressed a shudder. The fact that she was considering operating even temporarily out of this space illustrated just how far she’d fallen. Still, one had to be practical. “Working, even for a month or so, will give me the money I need to relocate.”
Marigold saw no need to add that only three days into the new year she was already chafing from too much leisure time. Thankfully, the Wisconsin cosmetology license she’d obtained last year, in order to participate in a Good Hope Cut-A-Thon to raise money for the Giving Tree, gave her options.
When Beck had casually mentioned she could use this commercial space just down the street from Muddy Boots, she’d jumped on the offer with both feet. She’d even dragged her father and sisters into the crisp winter morning to check out the space with her.
“Paint would help.” Prim winced at the bright blue door trim. “Those white eyelet curtains at the window definitely have to go.”
“What’s wrong with the curtains?” Steve asked. “Your mother and I had ones just like those hanging in the kitchen of our first house.”
“The fact that you lived in that house over thirty years ago should tell you why they must go.” Humor danced in Ami’s green eyes.
“It’s fine just the way it is.” Marigold forced out the lie. “We’re not spending any money or time fixing the place up. It’s not worth the effort for a few weeks.”
“Do we need to discuss this out here? I don’t know about the rest of you, but I’m freezing.” Beck rubbed his bare hands together. Though he wore a wool jacket over his sweater, her Georgia-born brother-in-law had southern blood flowing through his veins.
Beck might play some pond hockey or go cross-country skiing, but Marigold was fairly certain she’d never see him wearing shorts in fifty-degree weather like a native.