by Cindy Kirk
She wouldn’t have that any other way.
Epilogue
Marigold flung open the door of the salon and froze. “What the heck happened here?”
“We, ah, got a little jump start while you and the sheriff were honeymooning in Iceland.” Ami wrapped her arms around Marigold in welcome, holding her as close as her big belly would allow.
“Shut the door,” Beck called out absently from where he stood anchoring a gilt-edged mirror to the wall. “You’re letting the cold air inside.”
Marigold continued to stare. Where was the poodle wallpaper? The faux marble countertops? This interior was on par with the finest salons in Chicago. It couldn’t be hers. She blinked. Then blinked again. Still there.
Max strode in from the back. “The last of the mirrored tile is on the bathroom wall.”
Marigold wondered if she could be hallucinating. It had, after all, been a whirlwind couple of months. Once the election—which Cade won handily—was over, Marigold had jumped straight into wedding plans.
At the beginning of June, they’d married in an outdoor ceremony on a piece of land that would one day be the site of the home they would share for the rest of their lives.
The door behind her opened and Cade stepped inside. Like her, he’d changed out of what he’d worn earlier. How anyone could look so sexy in faded jeans and an ancient Detroit PD T-shirt was beyond her.
His gaze was just as puzzled as it slid to her. “I thought we were coming here to paint. This looks like all the work is done.”
Relief flooded Marigold. She wasn’t going crazy after all. “I’m as surprised as you.”
“It’s a belated wedding gift.” Ami made a sweeping gesture with one hand. “What do you think?”
Marigold did a 360. “What happened to Carly’s Cut and Curl?”
“We destroyed all traces of it,” Ami said cheerfully.
“The poodle wallpaper is gone.” Cade kept glancing at the walls as if expecting the prancing dogs to reappear.
“You sound almost disappointed.”
He grinned sheepishly. “It was growing on me.”
Marigold moved to the center of the small room and turned in a circle. Beneath her feet the once-scarred dark hardwood gleamed. Above her, the suspended ceiling with stained tiles was gone, exposing a tin ceiling original to the building.
The ceiling gave the room a vintage vibe, as did the exposed brick wall. The dark gray surface of the opposing wall was adorned with several oversize flowers. Marigold recognized Izzie Deshler’s work. But the jewel in the room’s crown was the chandelier. Marigold struggled to find her breath. “All this is amazing. But the chandelier is . . .”
She struggled to find the right word but came up empty. “Where did you find it?”
“It came from the Sweeney house in Egg Harbor.” Beck laid a hand on his wife’s shoulder. “They had a tag sale and Ami couldn’t resist.”
“They priced it crazy low.” Ami’s gaze lifted to linger on the cylindrical fixture. “It’s vintage Capodimonte porcelain from Italy. The ceramic flowers are hand painted. Even though I didn’t have a place for it in our home, I had to buy it.”
“Of course you did.” Beck squeezed his wife’s shoulder and smiled indulgently.
“It’s unique.” The chandelier was unlike anything Marigold had ever seen. Instead of crystals, it held a multitude of flowers in muted tones.
“Unique in a good way?” Worry suddenly filled Ami’s green eyes. “If you don’t like it, we’ll take it down and get something different.”
“I love it. I love everything you’ve done here.” Marigold turned to her family. “And I love every single one of you for doing this for me.”
“Steve and I refinished the floor the other day.” Max gestured. “It turned out even better than we’d hoped.”
“Where is Dad?” Marigold had taken stock of the family and realized some were missing. “And Prim and the boys?”
“Prim is getting the champagne so we can toast your new business. The twins are with her.” Ami gestured to the champagne flutes on a silver tray. “Dad is picking up a little something extra.”
It was all so . . . wonderful. First the lovely ceremony followed by a reception in Beck and Ami’s parlor. Then the surprise honeymoon trip to Iceland . . . and now this.
As emotion rose to clog her throat, the door in the back of the salon banged open.
“We’re here,” Prim called out as she and the boys tumbled into the room. She stopped and smiled with delight when she saw Marigold.
Prim turned to her boys, each cradling a bottle of champagne in his arms. “Give Daddy the bottles. Be careful. Don’t drop them.”
“This is for you.” Connor held his bottle up by the neck. “Because this is your new house.”
“It’s not her house. It’s a salon,” Callum corrected his twin before turning toward Marigold. “I got me a bottle, too.”
“I told the boys the champagne was a type of housewarming present,” Prim explained. “I gave them three choices at the store and they picked this vintage out especially for you.”
Though Marigold knew the purchase was at their mother’s instigation, love for these two little boys swamped her. “Thank you, Callum and Connor.”
“You’re welcome.” Connor turned to his brother when he didn’t respond. “When someone says thank you, you’re supposed to say you’re welcome.”
Callum shoved the bottle into his father’s arms. “You’re welcome.”
“I can’t believe you kept this a secret from us.” Marigold crossed the room and gave Prim a squeeze, then turned to Cade. “I’m overwhelmed.”
Her husband’s arms closed around her, and the light in Marigold’s perfect world burned even brighter. When she finally stepped from his embrace, his hand slid down her arm, and his fingers laced with hers.
Using his free hand, Cade pointed to two pink, tufted chairs with a glass-topped wicker basket side table between them. “Pink?”
“What can I say?” Max lifted both hands, palms up. “Prim said it’s Marigold’s favorite color.”
“Forget the chairs.” Prim gestured to the window. “Those are hand-sewn curtains.”
Marigold realized the white eyelets had been replaced by sheer crushed-voile panels that were not only stylish but let in the light. “You actually made those?”
“Ami and I did.” Prim shot her sister a conspiratorial glance. “Pulled out Mom’s old Singer and went to town.”
Marigold brought a hand to her neck. “I can’t believe you went to all that work for me.”
Ami’s eyes grew luminous. “I believe I speak for both Prim and myself when I say it was a labor of love.”
Marigold’s heart swelled. Tears stung the backs of her eyes.
“Ami even made Mom’s favorite cookies,” Prim announced.
“Chocolate chip?” Cade’s hopeful look made them all laugh.
“Lavender with rose-water icing.” Ami’s voice turned husky. “I’m getting closer to her recipe. One day I’ll nail it.”
“I’m glad you baked them.” For as far back as Marigold could recall, Ami and their mother had made the cookies for each special occasion in the family. Marigold swallowed past the lump in her throat. “It’s as if Mom is here, celebrating with us.”
“Shall I pour the champagne?” Beck broke the emotion-filled silence.
“Let’s wait for Dad.” Ami glanced at the clock. “He should be here any—”
“I bet you thought I got lost.”
Marigold heard her father’s voice at the same time the front door opened.
“Did you get it?” Ami’s gaze settled on his empty arms.
“You bet I did.”
“Where is it?” Ami asked.
“Where is what?” Marigold hated being out of the loop. Right now she felt very out of touch.
“In the front.” Steve glanced at Beck. “Why don’t you pour us each a glass of champagne, then we’ll take this outside.”
>
“Do you know what it is?” Marigold whispered to Cade.
He shook his head. “Whatever it is, your dad seems jazzed about it.”
Once everyone had their glasses of champagne—or sparkling cider—they stepped out into the sunshine.
As they gathered together on the sidewalk, Steve took Marigold’s hand. He tugged his daughter free of the group, then pointed upward.
Her mouth dropped open.
Hanging from an ornate iron holder that protruded from the building was a distressed blue wooden sign adorned with painted cabbage roses in salmon and white. Across the front in an eye-catching decorative font was a single name: Marigold’s.
The sudden warmth clogging Marigold’s throat made speech difficult. “It—it’s beautiful.”
“Izzie did it.” Ami lightly brushed Marigold’s hair with the palm of her hand. “She refused to take payment. She said the sign is her gift to you and Cade.”
“But—”
Her father stepped forward then, and something in his eyes had the words of protest Marigold had been about to utter sliding back down her throat.
“We love you, Marigold. Your friends love you. And the community of Good Hope loves you.” Steve lifted his glass of champagne high. “May your life always be filled with much love and success.”
Tears slipped unnoticed down her cheeks as first her father, then the rest of the family, gave her a hug. Then Cade stepped forward and held out a hand.
As her fingers curved around his, the raw emotion and love that surged nearly knocked Marigold to her knees. When her new husband looked into her eyes and smiled, Marigold wanted to pull him tight against her and never let go. Instead, she smiled back.
If success was measured in having the opportunity to do what you loved while being surrounded by people you loved and who loved you, Marigold realized she’d soared higher than she ever dreamed possible.
She didn’t realize she was crying until her dad gave her a handkerchief to sop up her tears. As if understanding just what she needed at that moment, he slung an arm around her shoulder and gave Cade a wink. “Let’s go inside and have some cookies.”
Acknowledgments
To Cindy Hoage, a fabulous hairstylist and friend. An accurate portrayal of life in the hairstyling world must be attributed to her. Any mistakes are my own.
About the Author
Photo © 2016 Nicole Morisco Photography
Cindy Kirk started writing after taking a class at a local community college. But her interest in words began years earlier, when she was in her teens. At sixteen she wrote in her diary: “I don’t know what I would do if I couldn’t be a writer.” After her daughter went to college, she returned to her passion and jumped straight into composing book-length fiction. She loves reading and writing romance novels because she believes in the undeniable power of love and in the promise of the happily ever after. An incurable romantic and an eternal optimist, Kirk creates characters who grow and learn from their mistakes while achieving happy endings in the process. She lives in Nebraska with her high-school-sweetheart husband and their two dogs.