Be Mine in Good Hope (A Good Hope Novel Book 3)

by Cindy Kirk

  Who gave you support? Cade wanted to ask Marigold.

  As if she sensed the question, Marigold exhaled a ragged breath. “Me, I muddled through. Sometimes I think I’m still muddling.”

  “During the time I spent in the Marines, I lost several good friends in battle.” Cade glanced out the window of his room at the falling snow. “Losing people you care about changes you. The experience can cause you to close in, to not let yourself care, or if you do, to not care too much. It’s a protective thing. If I don’t care, I won’t feel pain when that person is gone.”

  “Self-preservation,” Marigold agreed.

  “True. The problem is, unless we let ourselves care, unless we open our hearts completely, we run the risk of missing out on the best life has to offer.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  “I don’t know how Ami gets up this early,” Marigold grumbled as she took her place behind the bakery counter. “It about killed me.”

  “Poor Marigold. My heart breaks.” Hadley grinned. “You really didn’t have to show up until right before we opened.”

  “I know, but other than when I’m back at Christmas, I don’t get to do a lot of baking. Helping you was fun.” Knowing they wouldn’t unlock the doors for another fifteen minutes, Marigold relaxed and took another sip of the strong chicory blend her sister now stocked.

  “I’m glad you enjoyed it. It was fun for me, too.” Hadley leaned her back against the spotless stainless steel counters, keeping one eye on the ovens. “I appreciate you handling the counter today. I’ve got some special orders being picked up this afternoon that will keep me busy in the back.”

  “We close at four today, right?” Marigold thought she had the winter hours down but knew Ami and Hadley had been playing around with them.

  “Nine until four. Fridays through Mondays.” Glancing at the clock, Hadley drained her cup, then straightened. “Looks like it’s go time.”

  “Think we’ll be busy?” From the amount of bakery goods, it seemed as if Hadley was expecting hordes of customers today.

  “Oh, my.” Hadley gave a little laugh. “Just wait and see.”

  By three o’clock, Marigold was regretting her choice of footwear. While her ankle boots were absolutely adorable, they weren’t meant for hours of standing.

  Thankfully, she’d been able to wear jeans. Even better, Ami didn’t make her employees wear white frilly aprons like the kind Anita forced on her Crumb and Cake staff. Instead, her sister had presented her with a pink, long-sleeved tee with “Baking Up Some Love,” the slogan of Blooms Bake Shop, emblazoned across the front.

  Taking advantage of a break in the crowds, Marigold was wiping down the tables when the bells over the door jingled. She looked up in time to see Lindsay Lohmeier stride into the shop.

  Lindsay had been Ami’s friend since childhood. None of the Bloom sisters held the fact she was also Anita’s daughter against her.

  A warm smile lifted Lindsay’s lips when she spotted Marigold. “I wondered how long it’d take before our paths would cross.”

  The blonde crossed the shop in several long strides to give Marigold a hug. “When you left after Christmas I was certain I wouldn’t see you again until Ami and Beck’s baby was born.”

  “Things change.” Marigold forced a casual tone. “I’m just in Good Hope temporarily.”

  “Still, I’m glad. And did I hear you might be doing some—?” Lindsay made snipping motions with her fingers.

  “That’s right.” Though the thought of working under the dancing scissors sign still made her cringe, she reminded herself it was temporary means to an end. “I’ll be working out of the old Carly’s Cut and Curl location. By appointment only.”

  “I’ll be calling.” Lindsay lifted a strand of blonde hair going dull. “I desperately need highlights for spring.”

  Lindsay let the piece of hair drop and turned her attention to the bake case.

  Everyone who walked into the bakery displayed that same look of awe when seeing the extensive pastry selection. After giving Lindsay a few seconds to drool, Marigold smiled. “You know you can’t go wrong, no matter what you choose.”

  Lindsay continued to hesitate, tapping a finger against her coral-colored mouth. “I’m tempted to go with my fav, the lemon-blueberry scone. I absolutely adore Ami’s scones. But I’m feeling adventurous today, so give me a kouign amann and a medium vanilla latte.”

  “Whole or skim milk?”

  “Whole.” Lindsay laughed. “Told you I was feeling adventurous.”

  Slipping behind the counter, Marigold winked. “In that case I’ll even add extra whipped cream.”

  Instead of taking a seat, Lindsay remained by the counter, breaking off tiny caramelized pieces of the kouign amann that Marigold had plated for her.

  “I’ll count the indulgence as my reward for going above and beyond this morning.”

  “What did you do?” Marigold knew Lindsay worked as a floral designer at the Enchanted Florist down the block but wasn’t sure all that job involved.

  “Our Internet had issues this morning. Shirley, who has absolutely zero technical skills, kept insisting I fix it.” Lindsay opened her mouth, mimicking a silent scream while her hands pulsed in the air. “I was on the phone all morning with technical support. We finally determined it was a router problem. They’re bringing out a new one this afternoon.”

  “I’m impressed.” Marigold wondered if Lindsay might be able to help her. “Do you know a lot about computers?”

  Lindsay’s lips lifted in a wry smile. “I’d say I know just enough to be dangerous.”

  “The reason I ask is I’m looking for someone with good web skills. I need to make some changes to my website.” Marigold poured the frothy milk from the small stainless pitcher into the cup already containing the espresso. “The salon I’m planning to contact will check me out on all social media sites, so I’d like someone to get right on it and do a good job.”

  “That definitely wouldn’t be me.” Lindsay’s gaze turned thoughtful. Then she snapped her fingers. “Braxton.”

  Marigold handed Lindsay the latte. “Your nephew?”

  “The kid is a whiz with computers.” Lindsay took a sip, sighed. “Whole milk makes such a difference. How much do I owe you?”

  She rang up the purchase while Lindsay settled on one of the stools by the counter.

  As they were alone in the shop, Marigold dropped on the stool next to Lindsay. “Tell me about Braxton.”

  Lindsay angled her head. “Have you met him?”

  “I ran into him recently on the sidewalk.” Marigold knew that wasn’t quite accurate. Braxton had run into her. “He seemed nice.”

  “His appearance turns some adults off, especially the judgmental types. But Brax is very responsible. If you hire him, he’ll do the job and do it right. And he can really use the money.” Concern darkened Lindsay’s eyes. “Cassie struggles financially. The boys are on their own for everything that isn’t an absolute necessity.”

  Marigold could sympathize. With four children and a schoolteacher breadwinner, there hadn’t been a lot of cash for extras in the Bloom household, either. But Cassie and her children’s situation sounded especially dire. “I understand your mom and Cassie are estranged.”

  “They’re both incredibly stubborn.” Lindsay sighed. “My mother has amazing grandkids, but because of their feud, Cassie won’t allow her to have contact with them. Dakota is a wonderful girl, so smart and personable. Braxton is a whiz with computers, and K.T. is an amazing painter.”

  Marigold couldn’t hide her surprise. “He paints houses?”

  “No.” Lindsay laughed. “He’s an artist.”

  “That’s impressive.”

  “K.T. is very talented.” Lindsay lifted her cup and took another sip. “His stuff is a bit abstract for my tastes, but really compelling.”

  Marigold tapped a fingernail against the counter. “Izzie Deshler, the one who did the mural in Muddy Boots, is looking for local artists fo
r an alley art project. K.T. might want to contact her. Beck will have Izzie’s contact information.”

  “I’ll mention it to him. Thanks.” Lindsay stood. “I better head back before my boss starts screaming my name up and down Main Street.”

  Before Lindsay could take a step, the bells jingled and Steve stepped into the shop.

  Marigold’s welcoming smile faltered. After plastering it firmly back in place, she hurried across the dining area to greet her dad. “What a nice surprise. I thought you’d be at the high school.”

  “It’s Saturday.” He shot her a teasing smile, though his eyes remained watchful. “Even teachers need a break now and then.”

  Marigold might have mentioned something about last night, but when Steve turned and greeted Lindsay, it reminded her they weren’t alone.

  “It’s good to see you again, Mr. Bloom.” To Marigold’s surprise, Lindsay stepped forward to give Steve a quick hug. “I understand you and Mom went skating last night.”

  “We did.” Steve shot a quick sideways glance at Marigold. “Though I’m not sure Anita ever got on the ice.”

  “Let me guess.” Lindsay cocked her head and pressed one finger against her lips. “She sat on a bench the entire time drinking coffee and complaining about the cold.”

  “Close.” Steve gave a little chuckle. “Only it was hot cocoa. The Seedlings were selling it as a fundraiser.”

  “It’s nice to see her getting out, even if she’s not fully participating.” Lindsay’s cheery expression sobered. “After she and Bernie split, she threw herself into her work. I’m glad to see her having fun. I know she’s really looking forward to the Valentine’s dance. She and I went shopping last week in Milwaukee for a dress.”

  “I bet that was fun,” Marigold drawled.

  Lindsay chuckled. “She’s so picky that shopping with her can be a chore. But five minutes after walking into her favorite store, we found ‘the one.’ Wait until you see the red dress, Mr. Bloom. It looks amazing on her.”

  Steve shifted from foot to foot as if his favorite Rockports had suddenly turned uncomfortable. “Anita looks nice in whatever she wears.”

  “Lindsay was telling me Braxton is not only a great skater, he’s good with computers. I’m going to see if he’s interested in updating my personal website.” Marigold was determined to get the subject off Anita before the conversation became any more awkward. “And did you know K.T. is an up-and-coming artist?”

  “Lila Nordstrom, the art teacher, may have mentioned that fact once in passing.” Steve spoke absently, his glance straying to the clock on the wall proclaiming It’s Cupcake Time. “Any chance I can get a cherry Danish and a coffee?”

  The clock began to chime, and Lindsay gave a little yelp. “I need to scoot.”

  Her father stepped to the door and opened it for the young woman. “It was good to see you.”

  “Keep my mother in line.” With a cheery wave, Lindsay hurried through the door. “Though I’m not sure that’s possible.”

  The words, tossed over Lindsay’s shoulder, hung in the air long after she’d disappeared from sight.

  Marigold turned toward the counter. “Coffee and Danish coming right up.”

  But when she stepped past her father, his fingers closed around her arm. Her first impulse was to jerk back. She went with the second.

  Marigold froze, turning her head slowly to meet his gaze. She offered a polite smile, the kind you’d give a stranger. “Would you like to change your order?”

  “Forget the order.” He released his hold on her arm, a look of abject weariness on his face. “I’d like it if we could talk.”

  She lifted a brow. “Isn’t that what we’re doing?”

  “Oh, sweetheart.” He sighed the endearment, and Marigold saw pain in those familiar hazel eyes. The love mixing with the pain in those amber depths had her feeling like a brat.

  “I’ll get you the coffee and Danish, and some for myself, as well.” Going with instinct, Marigold stepped to him. Wrapping her arms around his lean frame, she rested her cheek against his chest as she’d done so many times when she was young and in need of comfort. “I love you, Dad.”

  “Love you, too, baby.”

  The quiver in his voice had Marigold closing her eyes and tightening her hold. After a long moment, she stepped back.

  “Have a seat.” Marigold gestured to a table in a corner. She turned the sign on the door to closed before slipping behind the counter.

  By the time she sat across from her father, pastries and coffee mugs between them on the cobalt-blue table, Marigold felt steadier. Still, she took a gulp of the steaming brew as one might toss back a whiskey before heading into battle.

  This wasn’t a battle, she reminded herself. This was a Danish and conversation with her father.

  “I’m sorry about last night,” Steve began. “I—”

  “It’s over.” Marigold covered his hand with hers. “Let’s not rehash the past.”

  “We need to talk.” His firm tone brooked no argument. “When Anita said that about you, ah, sleeping with Cade, I was shocked. You’re my daughter, my baby girl.”

  Heat crept up her neck. Was there anything more awkward than having your father bring up your sex life? “You don’t have—”

  “Cade explained it perfectly. I understand because the connection you two share is the same as what I had with your mother.” His lips lifted in a lopsided grin. “We couldn’t keep our hands off each other.”

  Yes, Marigold thought. Having your father allude to his sex life was worse. Much worse.

  “But I digress.” Her father’s expression sobered and she saw the lines of strain on his face. “Anita had no right to say what she did. I had no right to press the issue.”

  Silence settled over the table.

  Marigold’s fingers began to shred the napkin in her lap. What did he expect her to say? She searched for the right words, ones that would assuage his guilt but not prolong the discussion. Her brain refused to cooperate.

  Steve cleared his throat. “I came here today to ask your forgiveness. I hurt you. That’s something I never want to do, and I’m sorry.”

  “It’s not you who should be asking for forgiveness.” The words popped out before Marigold could stop them. “It’s her. I don’t even know why you’re with her. None of us do. She’s an evil, vile woman who delights in bringing pain to others with her words.”

  Her father flinched as if he’d been struck, then took off his glasses and wiped a hand across his eyes. “I didn’t realize you felt so strongly . . .”

  “Why are you with her?” Marigold shoved back her chair with a clatter and flung out her hands. “Just tell me that. Because I don’t understand.”

  “Sit down, sweetheart.” Steve gestured to the chair she’d nearly toppled. “And I’ll tell you.”

  Marigold didn’t want to talk. She wanted her father to eat his Danish, drink his coffee, and leave her alone. Sometime during the conversation her heart had swelled to near bursting, and the ache was making her weepy. Besides, what did it matter what she thought of Anita?

  He didn’t tell her who to date.

  She didn’t have the right to tell him.

  Marigold massaged the back of her tight neck with one hand, wishing she’d gotten more sleep last night. Thinking clearly was always more difficult without a good night’s rest. She would tell her father to go, that she needed time to work through this in her head, that they would talk later.

  Then she looked into his eyes and saw the bald hope.

  She sat down.

  Steve took a sip of coffee. He reached out a hand as if to close over the one she’d rested on the table, but pulled back at the last second and wrapped his fingers around the mug instead.

  “I’ve known Anita for years. Sarah and I socialized often with her and her husband. After Richard passed away, your mother and Anita continued to go shopping and get together for coffee.” Steve sat back, his eyes turning distant with memories. “Afte
r she married Bernie, neither of us saw much of her. Then they divorced and Sarah died . . .”

  Her father’s gaze dropped to the pastry. Instead of simply lifting it to his lips, he made a big show of cutting a precise slice out of the piece. When he finally looked up, his eyes held a sheen. “I was lonely. All of you girls were grown and busy with your own lives. I have friends and colleagues in Good Hope, but I felt alone and so very lonely. I don’t know if you can understand what that’s like but—”

  “I know what it’s like to be lonely.” Marigold thought of her life in Chicago. Such a busy city. Everyone so intent on making their mark. Like her father, she’d had friends and colleagues but no one to fill the empty place in her heart.

  Jason had been so focused on building his career they’d ended up seeing each other only on weekends. It was no wonder they hadn’t formed a true connection. Even as the thought struck, she realized they could have seen each other every day and never had the connection she’d formed with Cade in only a few weeks.

  “Being with Anita has been nice. We know many of the same people, and we both enjoy having a partner for social activities.” A shadow passed over his expression. “She and I had a heart-to-heart last night. I told her I can’t be with someone who isn’t good to my girls.”

  Though hope surged, Marigold kept her voice level. “Are you telling me you broke up with her?”

  “That was my intent. She broke down and cried. She begged me to give her a second chance.” Her father took off his glasses and scrubbed a hand over his face. “She told me she would change, promised she would change. I told her I needed to think about it.”

  He didn’t say it, but Marigold knew she had only to say the word and Anita would be history. As tempted as she was to do just that, this wasn’t her decision to make.

  “Everyone deserves a second chance.” Marigold wasn’t sure where the words came from, but the voice sounded very much like her own.

  Her father’s eyes widened. “You think so?”

  Marigold reached across the table. She took his hand in hers. It was a strong hand, just like the man himself. Strong with a deep sense of fairness and honor. He wasn’t perfect, but then who was? “A wise man once told me everyone deserves a second chance.”