by Cindy Kirk
He chuckled. “A rich guy who will soon be land poor.”
“Are you really going to buy this lot?”
He shoved his hands into his pockets, rocked back on his heels. “Seriously considering it.”
Marigold didn’t want to be a naysayer like Anita, but the woman had brought up a few valid points. “What about the election?”
His gaze had returned to the property. A slight smile now lifted his lips. “What about it?”
“First, I’m sure you’ll win.” Marigold wanted that on the table. She certainly didn’t want Cade thinking she’d lost faith in him. “But what if something crazy happens and you lose? Do you plan to stay and work under Travis?”
A muscle in Cade’s jaw jumped and the smile disappeared. “Going from being in charge to being a subordinate would never work.”
Marigold opened her mouth, prepared to argue the point, then realized he was right.
“Would you stick around and look for another position in Good Hope?” Marigold had no doubt with all his leadership experience, Jeremy could find him something.
“For me, being in law enforcement—protecting and serving the public—isn’t simply a job.” Cade shrugged. “It’s who I am.”
It didn’t take a puzzle master like Prim to put together these pieces. “You’d relocate.”
He pulled his hands from his pockets, lifted them, and let them fall. “I’d have no choice.”
Marigold chewed on her bottom lip. Just when you thought the puzzle was nearly solved, a piece refused to fit. “Then why sink your money into property here before you know whether or not you’re staying?”
Instead of answering, he slung an arm around her shoulders, gave her a squeeze. “You’re starting to look like Rudolph with that red nose. Let’s get you out of the wind.”
Before slipping into the vehicle, Marigold paused to give the property—with its amazing view of Green Bay—one last glance. “The sunrises will be spectacular.”
“You like it.” Cade sounded pleased.
“There isn’t a better spot on the entire peninsula.”
Something flickered in his eyes. “I’m going to call the owner in the morning and have the papers drawn up.”
The first thing Marigold did when she was inside the Jeep was to turn the heater on high. Only when she was properly thawed out and could feel her nose again did she repeat the question he’d yet to answer. “Why buy land in a community where you might not stay?”
He hesitated for so long she was forced to give him a poke in the ribs.
“Have you seen the interest rate on CDs lately?” Cade fiddled with the air flow before continuing. “If I decide to sell, I’ll more than recoup the money I’ve paid.”
Logical, Marigold thought, but not the whole story. “Why else?”
“You think there’s more?”
Her gaze locked on his. “Spill.”
Cade flashed a smile. “You know me so well.”
It was true, but the realization troubled her, so Marigold simply motioned for him to start talking.
“Because my dad was in the military, we moved a lot. It seemed that just when I got used to a place, he’d get new orders and we’d pack up again.” Cade’s voice remained low, almost as if he was talking to himself. “At first I liked meeting new kids and seeing new places, but as I got older, not so much. I vowed that once I was on my own, I’d find a place that felt like home and settle there. I found everything I was looking for here. Even if I have to move, one day I’ll be back. While I may not have been born here, this is my home.”
Marigold understood the lure of Good Hope. Even now she had to fight the pull. Though the vow she’d made when she was ten would keep her far away, this town would always have her heart.
For a long moment Marigold was silent. Then she made another vow. She would do whatever it took to help him win the upcoming election.
Because if she couldn’t make this place her home, she’d darn well see that he could.
Marigold considered asking Cade to sleep over but knew tomorrow would be a full day. Blooms Bake Shop would be open for business and Marigold had promised to help Hadley with the counter sales. After a hectic holiday season, she wanted her eldest sister to be able to sleep in and have a relaxing day with her husband.
“I’d like to stay.” Cade brushed a lock of hair back from her cheek with one finger.
His closeness, the feel of his body against hers, nearly undid her resolve. Because it seemed the thing to do, and because she couldn’t help herself, Marigold looped her arms around his neck, held him tight for several seconds. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.” His breath was warm against her ear. “For what?”
“For being you.” She pulled back and laughed softly. “I really want you to stay, but I have to be up before dawn.”
“Damn.” He gave her a halfhearted smile.
“There’s always a good night kiss.” Her hands rested on his shoulders. “What kind of girlfriend would I be if I let you walk away without one?”
“Your family seems okay with us dating.”
“They like you.” It was a bit disconcerting just how easily they’d accepted her and Cade’s relationship.
“I like them, too.” His hands touched the hair that now tumbled in a disheveled mess about her shoulders. “Beautiful. Simply beautiful.”
Marigold’s chest turned gooey soft. Things were so easy with Cade. Unlike Jason, it didn’t seem important that his girlfriend always look camera ready.
She’d miss Cade. A lot. Just how much was a disturbing realization, but not disturbing enough to stop her from holding him tight when his mouth closed over hers in a long, soul-shattering kiss.
Several kisses later, her heart raced like she was headed for the checkered flag. Marigold was ready to say no to sleep and yes to Cade when he abruptly released her.
“Get some sleep, Goldilocks.” His voice might be ragged, but it held a determined edge. “I’ll wait outside until I hear the locks click.”
Knowing this was the sensible solution didn’t make it any easier. When the lock slid into place, Marigold shrugged off the sadness that wanted to settle and headed straight for the bedroom. Thoughts of Cade lingered as she pulled on flannel pajamas and slippers.
Not very sexy, but she didn’t have a handsome man ready to keep her warm. The down-filled comforter gracing the bed couldn’t come close to the heat she and Cade generated. Glancing at the clock on the wall, Marigold realized if she called it a night now, she could get several hours of sleep in before the alarm sounded.
The trouble was, after his kisses, she felt more revved than sleepy.
Marigold turned on the television, winced at the sitcom’s jarring laugh track, and clicked it off. After tossing the remote back on the table, she briefly considered powering up her laptop but didn’t see the point.
Her gaze settled on her art journal. She’d pulled the book—along with various supplies—out from one of the boxes she’d unpacked earlier.
Flipping open the journal, Marigold glanced at several of the last entries. It was like picturing herself at the top of a mountain peak one minute then hitting the ground with a solid thud the next.
The last page she’d worked on had been done the day Steffan fired her. Marigold remembered that night well. She’d longed to escape into sleep but, because of the emotions churning inside her, had found it impossible to settle.
The journal had provided an avenue for the rage. The writing, the painting, the pasting, had been cathartic.
With her heart thumping, Marigold read the words she’d written less than a month earlier. One phrase in particular caught and held her attention.
My life, as I know it, is over.
Dark colors of paint slashed across several pages in bold, angry strokes. Bright blue tears fell from eyes in a face she’d painted ghostly white, the bright red lips turned downward like a sad clown.
At any other time, the melodramatic style mi
ght have made her smile. But there was no humor in the memory. Reading snippets of words pasted on the page brought fresh pain.
Steffan’s betrayal of their friendship had ripped her heart in two. Though she’d tried to find the positive in the action, she’d been crushed. Some women might have gone out and gotten drunk. That had never been her style. Instead she’d channeled her anger into art, the pain and fury evident in the journal entry.
It was unbelievable that, after over five very successful years, she found herself now back at square one.
No, she set her jaw, not back to square one. She had skills and a business savvy honed from years of working so closely with Steffan. She’d been given a gift, an opportunity to make choices about her future from a position of strength.
Impulsively Marigold picked up her favorite calligraphy pen and wrote in bold letters across the top of a new page: Know What You Want!
The script stood in sharp contrast to the words she added next using various colored Sharpie pens: prepare, discover, courage, confidence, bold, faith, innovative, and spectacular.
Marigold papered the pages with pictures of hairstyles and successful salons. Once she was satisfied, she cut out the word LIFE from a magazine cover and glued it to the page.
These next pages would be her nod to the here and now. Marigold felt her heart lighten as she cut and pasted words like: happiness, joy, fun, friendship, and laughter.
Her brushstrokes on the page captured the bright blue skies of Good Hope and the oranges and pinks of the amazing sunsets. Everything was bright colors and a little cheesy. She laughed when her gaze lingered on a picture of a unicorn in the stack of magazine photos she’d brought with her. She barely resisted the urge to add it to the page.
Once she was satisfied, she left the page to dry.
As it had that dark night weeks ago, the simple act of putting her emotions on the page had steadied her. While she might be closer to sleep than she’d been an hour earlier, the night still felt incomplete.
She stood at the window overlooking Main Street for several long moments. It was a clear night and the full moon was bright. Marigold could almost believe she could see the boarding house Cade called home. Was he asleep?
Giving in to impulse, she picked up her phone and formulated a quick text.
Think of me.
After a brief mental tussle, she added, I’m thinking of you.
Before she could erase the text, she hit Send.
“I got your text.” Cade held the phone against his ear. He’d been surprised—and pleased—when his phone had dinged and he saw the text from Marigold. He nearly replied, but the fact she’d reached out to him with a message that felt oddly intimate seemed to demand more. “I was thinking of you, too.”
Silence filled the connection. Had he made a mistake by being honest? Though he had to be careful, as she was skittish about anything smacking of serious romance, if this relationship had a chance of working, he had to be himself.
If this relationship had a chance of working . . .
Cade nearly laughed, though he didn’t feel much like laughing. Marigold had made it clear she’d be gone long before summer. Likely long before the election in March, she’d be living in some big city working in a fancy salon. Far from Good Hope. Far from him.
The knowledge formed a hard knot in the ball of his stomach.
“I’m wearing that silk nightie,” she purred. “The one you enjoy taking off.”
Cade had just plopped down in the chair to pull off his boots when her words slapped him in the face. He was very familiar with the paper-thin garment in soft blue. His body went instantly hard.
It didn’t take a detective’s shield to know she assumed he’d called for phone sex. Or—and he thought this an equally likely possibility—his response had hit her on an emotional level. Keeping any interaction on the sexual level was her way of keeping distance between them.
He wouldn’t let that happen.
“It’s cold out tonight.” Still aroused, Cade shifted uncomfortably in the chair. Despite the strain, he managed to keep his voice easy. “If I was with you now, we’d build a fire. We’d sit on the sofa and enjoy a glass of wine.”
“Or we could go to bed and find other ways to keep warm.”
Dear God, give me strength.
Cade closed his eyes and plucked the first nonsexual thought from a brain floundering from loss of blood. “My dad and I aren’t much for talking.”
“Your father?” The sultry purr disappeared.
He understood the surprise. Cade wasn’t sure where that thought had come from, either. But now that it was out there, he went with it.
“He’s a great guy and all. But it was difficult talking with him about stuff going on in my life, things that bugged me. He wasn’t much for talking about feelings.” Cade’s laugh held a touch of desperation. “You know those articles that say parents should spend quality time with their kids?”
“I’ve read them.”
Instead of elaborating as he’d hoped, she let the words hang in the air. The conversation was at critical mass. Normally Cade would have gladly let it die. But Marigold reaching out to him tonight felt too important.
His gut told him this could be one of those moments he could easily end up regretting. A time he would look back on and see he’d had the opportunity to take their relationship to another level but had backed off.
He rubbed his chin. “It seems to me a parent has to be around enough so there’s the opportunity for the child to bring up what’s on their mind.”
“I’m not following.” Marigold sounded more perplexed than irritated by the direction of the conversation.
Cade wasn’t sure where he was going with this, either. He pulled off a boot and tossed it to the floor. It landed with a loud thud on the hardwood.
Alice had been right. He sucked at communicating. But he’d started down this road and saw no choice but to plow ahead.
“Let’s say a parent wants to spend quality hours with their kid. The mom or dad schedules that quality time when it works for them, not for the child. I don’t know about you, but talking never happened on a schedule for me. Our best conversations usually occurred when my dad and I were in the driveway, washing the car or shooting some hoops.”
Marigold took a moment—one that felt like an eternity—to respond.
“It was like that at my house, too,” she finally admitted. “All the serious talks with my mother happened when we were baking cookies.”
Lurching ahead, he thought, though the conversation reminded him of an easily stalled engine you had to keep infusing with fuel.
“How about your father? Was he around much?” Cade hoped Marigold would pick up this ball and run with it. Or at least take it a few steps.
“My dad was always someone we could go to if we had a problem or concern.” Marigold paused. “The only time he was out of reach was when my mother was first diagnosed with leukemia.”
Cade heard the hitch in her voice. He didn’t have to be in the same room with her to know the pain of that time was written across her face. “How old were you?”
“Twelve. The doctors gave her a ten percent chance to live to the weekend.” This time Marigold’s voice broke. She cleared her throat. “I’d just finished up my first year of middle school. The diagnosis—and the horrible prognosis—took us all by surprise. She’d always been so healthy.”
He knew Marigold’s mother hadn’t died all that long ago, so she’d obviously beaten those odds. “She survived.”
“The doctors were amazed. They called Sarah Bloom their ninja warrior.” Despite the thickness in her voice, pride seeped through. “She fought hard. My dad’s entire focus was supporting her in her battle with cancer.”
“What about you and your sisters?”
“We took over the household chores. We did all we could to make her life, his life, easier.” Marigold sighed. “The solid foundation they’d built for us all those years—and our faith—h
elped us cope. But our world, the one we’d known, no longer existed. The two people we depended on for support and guidance now needed us.”
“It must have been difficult.” His heart ached for that young girl of twelve. “At least you and your sisters had each other.”
“You’d think.” Marigold gave a humorless chuckle. “Actually, we all struggled. Ami, who until that summer had never given my folks a second’s worth of trouble, got a little wild.”
“Ami?”
The surprise in his voice had her laughing.
“Difficult to believe, but true.” Her voice turned serious. “She began staying out late and partying. One night she hit a tree with her car. Her friend was seriously injured. It was a very scary time for my parents.”
Not only for the parents, Cade thought, but for a young sister watching a revered older sibling spiral out of control.
“How did Fin react to your mother’s illness?”
The silence returned for a long moment.
“Fin changed. At first she and Jeremy grew even closer. He was such a comfort to her. But within weeks, something happened.”
Cade waited for her to continue.
“Fin began spending more time in her room, which wasn’t like her at all. Then I watched her begin to distance herself from Jeremy.”
“How did she do that?”
“She took me on dates with them.” Marigold gave a little laugh. “I didn’t want to go, but she insisted.”
Cade thought back to his senior year and the girls he’d dated. “Didn’t Jeremy find it odd his girlfriend was bringing her little sister along?”
“She always had some reason that made sense. And he was preoccupied with getting ready to go away to college. Then she ended it. Everyone was shocked. No one more than Jeremy.”
The detective in Cade thought Fin’s actions sounded like someone with a guilty conscience. But that didn’t much matter now. He was simply grateful the conversation was finally flowing smoothly. “What about Prim?”
“Prim stayed steady.” The tension in Marigold’s voice eased. “She and her first husband, Rory, were dating back then. He gave her a lot of support.”