by Cindy Kirk
“I’m happy for you, Cade.” Marigold brushed her lips across his mouth, then patted his cheek. “You’ve found your niche. Me? I’m still searching for that one place that will allow me to soar.”
“You can’t soar in Good Hope?”
She shook her head, making her hair swing. “Not possible.”
Knowing better than to press, he reached out and touched her cheek, one finger trailing slowly along her skin until it reached the line of her jaw. “The good news is we have this time together before you leave. Have you given any thought to my offer?”
She inclined her head, and the sultry scent that was so uniquely hers wrapped around him like a caress. “To enjoy dessert while I’m here?”
“To spend time together.” For some reason the distinction seemed important. “To date.”
Their eyes met, and he couldn’t look away.
“After much consideration . . .” Marigold’s blue eyes glittered, and she regarded him intently. Then, without warning, she flung herself into his arms. “I accept.”
Chapter Eleven
Yesterday, Marigold had braved a group of seven-year-olds. Today, she faced a more formidable challenge: dealing with Eliza Shaw.
Cade had still been at her apartment last night when the e-mail from the executive director of the Cherries had arrived. Marigold was being summoned to a meeting to discuss the Hearts and Cherries Fashion Show.
“I am so not looking forward to this.” She slanted a glance at her sisters.
“I consider a meeting with Eliza on par with a visit to the gynecologist,” Prim said dryly.
Ami snorted.
“I don’t see what there is to discuss.” Marigold paused at the steps leading to historic Hill House, where most of the Cherries’ business was conducted.
Ami expelled a heavy sigh. “You know Eliza.”
“I wish I didn’t,” Marigold muttered.
Prim laughed outright. “The woman made my life hell when Max and I were planning the Fourth of July parade. I swear she prayed every night for an epic fail so she could point the finger at me.”
“She likes to be in control,” Ami said diplomatically.
“That’s a kind way of saying Eliza has a dictator sensibility.” Prim didn’t even bother to lower her voice. She only smiled when her older sister shushed her and continued. “Like most dictators, the woman preys on weakness. Don’t let her see you sweat.”
Marigold started to laugh, then stopped at the look on Prim’s face. “You’re kidding, right?”
“She’s not.” Ami’s lips twisted in a rueful smile. “Eliza will be relentless in her attempt to seize control. You can’t let her.”
“She respects strength.” Prim’s hazel eyes, so like their father’s, were solemn. “Remember, an animal is always more dangerous in their lair, or in this case on her home turf.”
“Is there still time to back out?” Marigold realized she was only half joking.
“Having you at the fashion show will be a blast.” Ami looped her arm through Marigold’s and gave it a squeeze. “The Cherries need you. I need you.”
“In that case . . .” Marigold looked at the stairs, gave an exaggerated sigh. “I’m ready to enter the inner sanctum. Just give me a sec to gird my loins.”
Her sisters’ laughter followed her on the climb up the steps.
Fifteen minutes into the conversation Marigold was wondering what the fuss had been about as her sisters and the executive director discussed various Cherrie events, including the upcoming Valentine’s dance.
Eliza’s gaze settled first on Ami, then on Prim. “Every member of the Cherries is expected to attend.”
“We’re both planning on being at the dance.” Ami’s voice held a note of surprise. She turned to Prim. “Is ticket revenue down?”
“According to my records, we’re ahead of projections.” Prim, the treasurer of the organization, slanted a questioning glance in Eliza’s direction. “Is there something going on I don’t know?”
“No. You’re correct. Ticket sales are on track with last year,” Eliza conceded with some reluctance.
“In fact, when I purchased additional tickets for Cade and Marigold yesterday, Lynn made it sound as if we’re on track for an early sellout,” Prim added.
“You already bought tickets?” Marigold thought back to when she and her sisters had discussed the dance. She was almost positive she hadn’t given the green light. “What if I’m not here?”
“No worries.” Ami patted her hand. “We can resell them without any problem.”
Marigold let herself relax. She grabbed another cookie and munched contentedly until the discussion began to veer into fashion show territory.
“I received a report from Katie Ruth shortly before you arrived on several fundraising efforts under way for the Seedlings and Saplings.” Eliza glanced at her laptop. “The avalanche popcorn will be packaged in the stylish treat bags I picked out. The scouts will sell the popcorn in the hotel lobby prior to the fashion show.”
Her sisters didn’t react to Eliza apparently choosing the bags without input. Marigold surmised this must be one of those pick-your-battles kinds of things.
“You didn’t mention the MCTs.” Prim’s brows drew together, referring to the eleven to twelve age group. “Why aren’t they helping? The popcorn sale is a fundraiser for all of the scouts.”
“I have the older scouts functioning as gofers during the fashion show. The truth is, people are more likely to buy products from little ones.” Eliza’s lips lifted in a slight smile. “Who can resist a seven-year-old hawking a prettily wrapped bag of something tasty?”
“What is avalanche popcorn?” Marigold asked, hoping it wasn’t a stupid question.
Always one to be exact, Eliza glanced at her notes. “It’s popcorn with chocolate, peanut butter, marshmallows, and crispy cereal, drizzled in milk chocolate.”
“It’s addictive,” Ami warned.
“Highly,” Prim agreed. “My boys would eat it by the truckload if I let them.”
“Sounds yummy.” Marigold’s stomach stunned her when it growled agreement.
Eliza paused. When those sharp gray eyes leveled on her, Marigold felt the seat beneath her grow hot.
“Enough talk about popcorn. In regard to the fashion show.” Eliza tapped the Montblanc lying next to her laptop, and her gaze settled on Marigold. “You’ll need to run the hairstyles by me two weeks prior to the event. Some of the styles that are popular in large cities may not be appropriate here.”
Marigold laughed, lifted the china cup to her lips. “Yeah, right.”
For a second, confusion filled Eliza’s almond-shaped eyes. Then they hardened to steel. “I’m serious.”
Marigold set down her cup of tea carefully. “Well, I can tell you right now that’s not happening.”
Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Prim and Ami exchange glances. Her sisters both set down their cups, as if wanting to be prepared in case a hasty retreat became necessary.
Eliza stiffened until her back was ramrod straight. “As executive director, I am in charge of the Cherries. What I say—”
“I am in charge of styling the hair for this event.” Marigold’s voice remained polite but firm. “I will decide the hairstyles that are appropriate, taking into consideration the model and the clothing they’ll be wearing.”
Marigold had spent the last six years of her life dealing with difficult people. While she appreciated her sisters’ warning, she’d been aware of the type of woman she’d be dealing with when she’d agreed to help Ami with the fashion show.
If Eliza thought she could dominate her, or squish her like a bug under those gorgeous eelskin heels, well, she would soon discover that Marigold Bloom might be small, but she was mighty.
“That is unworkable,” Eliza declared.
“But I—” Ami began.
Marigold shook her head ever so slightly, but the barely perceptible movement was enough to have her sister lapsing into si
lence.
“You are correct, Eliza,” Marigold began.
“I’m happy you see it my way.” Eliza’s lips curved in satisfaction.
“You are correct,” Marigold repeated, as if the other woman hadn’t spoken, “that it’s unworkable to have you interfering in a matter of which you know nothing. I am the expert in the area of hair, and ultimately it is my reputation at stake.”
“I am—” Eliza interrupted.
“I’m not finished speaking,” Marigold snapped, then offered a conciliatory smile, though she wasn’t certain why she bothered. “From what I understand, the goal of this event is to increase the tourism traffic during a traditionally slow time of the year, bolstering revenue for all Good Hope businesses.”
“That’s correct.” Ami spoke before Eliza had a chance.
Prim picked up her cup again, apparently deciding a fast break for the front door was not going to be necessary. She took a sip, her gaze focused on Eliza.
“You are not in charge.” The director’s words lacked the punch of minutes earlier. “This is a Cherries event.”
“I don’t wish to be in charge of the entire event.” If Eliza could give a little, Marigold figured she could do the same. “But I will retain total autonomy in terms of the hairstyles for the fashion show. Or I won’t be involved at all.”
The air turned thick, tension humming like electricity from a downed power line.
Marigold picked up her cup, her heart suddenly light. She’d made her feelings clear. The ball was now in Eliza’s court.
The only thing Marigold could do now was to wait and see how the game played out.
Cade congratulated himself on a puck well placed as he skated off the ice covering Rakes’s Pond. When he’d joined the force in Detroit, he’d thought his days of playing hockey were behind him.
Until this winter, he hadn’t given a second thought to the skates gathering dust in his closet. But as soon as the weather turned cold in Good Hope and the ice grew thick, he’d been recruited to join the Ice Holes.
The majority of team members were men in their twenties and thirties. Some, like Jeremy Rakes, were whizzes on the ice. Others, like Beckett Cross, needed to hone their skating skills for a couple more seasons. Beck had grown up in the South, so team members gave him a pass on his less-than-stellar control.
The fact that Cade could skate, had actually played hockey in high school, had been a cause for celebration. Many of the games he’d played this winter were pickup ones. For those scrimmages, teams were chosen by a process known as drawing sticks or sticks in the middle. Everyone tossed their sticks into a pile, then one of the players divided the sticks into two groups, forming two teams.
In a tournament set for the week before Valentine’s Day, Cade would play for the Ice Holes. Being asked to be on a team made him feel part of the community in a way he never had in Detroit.
He sat down on a bench at the side of the pond to unlace his skates, then noticed the other men were making no move to remove their own.
Cade straightened, cocked his head. “Isn’t the game over?”
“The extra practice is over,” Jeremy clarified, “but there’s a community skate every Friday night. Families will start showing up any minute.”
“I thought that once the pond froze, other than when the hockey teams practiced, the pond was always open for skating.” So much still to learn, Cade thought.
“Friday Skate Night is a community event. The lights are turned on, the snack hut opens, and the bonfire is lit. Lots of families come every Friday.”
“Sounds nice.” As Cade didn’t have a family, he once again bent over to untie his laces.
“The Blooms have arrived.” Jeremy’s announcement had Cade’s fingers stilling on the laces. Slowly he straightened.
He spotted Callum and Connor first. As usual, the twins were out in front, followed by Marigold and her sisters. Steve and Anita brought up the rear.
The bag slung over Marigold’s shoulder was nearly as large as she was. A hot-pink stocking cap with fuzzy white snowflakes covered much of her hair.
When their gazes locked, Cade lifted a hand. She wiggled her fingers and smiled.
Though tempted to go to her, Cade remained with Jeremy. Yet his gaze on the pretty blonde never wavered. He smiled when he saw Marigold’s lips were the same color as her hat.
The mayor shook his head. “It doesn’t look right.”
“What?”
“Seeing only three Bloom sisters.” Jeremy expelled a breath, offered a rueful smile. “In my mind there will always be four.”
Cade studied the group, angled his head. “Pretend Anita is Fin.”
Jeremy snorted out a laugh. “Delphinium Bloom would cut out your tongue for that comment.”
The twins waved wildly when they spotted their father, who’d just strolled up with Beck. Seconds later, two tiny bodies slammed into Max.
“Oof.” Max pretended to stumble back, his arms slipping around both boys as if to take them down with him. They shrieked with pleasure.
Cade smiled. There was nothing quite like roughhousing with your dad.
As Max righted himself, Connor’s attention shifted to Cade. “Are you here to arrest someone?”
Callum rolled his eyes. “He has skates on, stupid.”
Max reacted immediately, clamping a hand on his son’s shoulder. “We don’t call people names. What do you want to tell your brother?”
It appeared this was familiar territory, because Callum didn’t hesitate. “Sorry.”
“’s okay.” Connor’s gaze dropped to Cade’s battered skates. “Do you play hockey with my daddy?”
“The sheriff is a clapper,” Max told his sons, referring to Cade’s powerful slap shot. “He makes me look like a beginner.”
Connor’s eyes went wide. “Really?”
“Your dad’s a fine player,” Cade assured the boy but couldn’t resist adding, “When he’s not falling down.”
Max playfully shot out a right jab, a punch Cade easily dodged.
“When you fall down, does it hurt?” Connor gazed at his father, his brows furrowed in concern.
“I’m going to be a clapper,” Callum announced loudly.
“You can’t even skate backwards,” Connor taunted.
“Neither can you.” Callum gave his brother a small shove.
Max placed a firm hand on Callum’s shoulder, but his voice remained calm. “That’s one of the skills we’ll be practicing tonight.”
Cade turned to Marigold, who’d just walked up. Though it had been less than forty-eight hours since he’d seen her, it felt like an eternity. They’d planned to get together yesterday, but when one of his deputies called in sick, he’d ended up working a double.
He’d called her this morning and hadn’t been surprised to hear she’d held her own with Eliza yesterday. “I thought you were busy tonight.”
“I am busy.” Mischief, along with an unmistakable flash of interest, glittered in Marigold’s blue eyes. “I had a date with my family.”
“We come every week,” Callum told him. “Tonight we get hot chocolate because—”
The boy glanced over his shoulder at his mother for help.
“—because we want to support the Seedlings,” Prim added with a smile.
Cade nodded to Steve, who’d just strolled up with Anita clinging to his arm like a leech to a blood source. “Good to see you both.”
He shifted his gaze back to Marigold. Even with several feet separating them, he felt the pulse of electricity. He wished he could wrap his arms around her and show her just how much he’d missed her.
But Cade knew how families worked. Heck, he came from one very similar to hers. That’s why he would take whatever time necessary to discuss everything from what they planned to eat to the highs and lows of the practice game he and the other Ice Holes had just played.
Once that was done, hopefully he’d snag some alone time with her. Cade wondered if she’d told her family
yet they were dating. He didn’t have to wait long for the answer.
“I hear you and Marigold are dating.” Ami smiled warmly at him. “You don’t need my approval, but you have it.”
“You have mine as well,” Prim added, then swiveled her head and pinned her two young sons with a steely-eyed gaze.
Both jumped back from the bag they’d been riffling through as if the contents had suddenly turned red-hot. Apparently satisfied, Prim refocused on Cade.
He cleared his throat. As a response seemed indicated, he returned their smiles. “Your sister is a fascinating woman.”
“I am indeed.” She gave him a wink and what could only be described as a come-hither look.
Screw protocol. Cade gestured toward the ice. “Skate with me.”
Before Marigold had a chance to respond, Eliza swept up, a black cape coat swirling around her. A red headband held her dark hair back from her face. Her gaze swept over the family like a broom brushing over a dusty floor. “The Blooms are out in full force tonight.”
Anita, who stood a few feet away, complaining to Steven about the nitrates in hot dogs, whirled at the sound of Eliza’s voice. In seconds, she was hotfooting it in the woman’s direction.
“This should be good,” Marigold murmured.
Anita pushed Connor and Callum not so gently out of the way in her quest to reach the executive director.
“Eliza, how wonderful to see you,” she gushed. “It’s been so long. Too long. How have you been?”
“Just fine.” As if to ward off a sudden chill, Eliza wrapped her coat more tightly around her. “Thank you for asking.”
There was a feline quality to the smile Eliza bestowed on Anita. It might have passed for friendly if Cade hadn’t been watching and saw it didn’t quite reach her eyes.
With Eliza, things were not always as they seemed. Take her initial approach to the Bloom family. Though it might appear Eliza had come over to greet this group, Cade knew it was Good Hope’s mayor, standing on the other side of the family, who was her ultimate target.
Cade had to give the woman props. No matter how much she wanted to be with Jeremy, she knew better than to be too obvious. Which left her stuck—for the moment, anyway—with Anita.