by Cara Malone
“Wow, I’m impressed,” Cyn said. “This looks like a whole salad worth of veggies.”
There were ripe cherry tomatoes and bush beans, plus a large head of lettuce and some small red peppers, as well as a whole host of herbs. Kiera was beaming as she said, “The kids really get into this every year. They’ll be excited that it’s finally harvest time – they’re just finishing up the after-school activity, so I’ll go gather them up, okay?”
“Thanks,” Mari said. As soon as Kiera was gone and they were alone on the patio, Cyn put her hands on Mari’s waist and pulled her close.
“You’re incredible,” she said. “I didn’t think it was possible to like you more than I already did, but then I find out stuff like this. How is that you’re so amazing?”
“Just lucky, I guess,” Marigold said with a small laugh.
They had a few minutes before the kids were ready to come outside to the garden, and Cyn had no problem finding something to fill the time. She pressed Marigold up against a small potting bench, her fingers caressing Marigold’s curls as their hips sought each other. It felt so good – so right – to be with Cyn, but in the back of her mind, Mari couldn’t stop thinking about her father’s retirement.
Was all this a brief detour on her way to the conservatorship?
When she heard footsteps approaching inside the building, Marigold pushed Cyn away, and then the steel door opened and a dozen kids crowded onto the patio. Mari taught them how to harvest what was ripe and Cyn jumped in wherever she could help. They divided it all up to take home, and the whole time, Marigold kept stealing glances at Cyn. She got lost in the work easily despite her protestations that she was inexperienced in the garden, and Mari was just as intrigued by her as she’d been when they first met as kids.
Was there a way she could have it all?
The following afternoon, Marigold sat across from her father at their usual table in the outdoor area of the Red Hen restaurant. Her father was never one for outdoor dining, preferring the modern luxury of temperature control and an absence of insects, but he also wasn't a man who was in the habit of saying no to his only daughter’s wishes. At least, not very often.
Marigold enjoyed the patio of the Red Hen because of the beautiful display of lush ferns circling the dining area. Today, she wasn't paying much attention to the greenery.
This was Mari’s first one-on-one meeting with her father since the retirement party, and it was all she could do not to demand answers the moment she sat down. She had to keep reminding herself that he’d never promised her anything, and that it was possible her expectations had ballooned beyond what they should have been in her frenzy to make the event perfect.
Her father didn’t make her wait too long. The waiter came by to drop off their drinks – the peach Bellinis that they’d become accustomed to in the summertime and which were now starting to wear on Mari in her impatience. Then her father said, “The retirement party was wonderful. You did a fantastic job, even with the extenuating circumstances.”
“Thank you,” Marigold said. Then with a hopeful smile, she asked, “Does that mean you'll stop trying to force Ryan on me as a partner?"
She hoped the smile would lighten the tone of her question, but her father wasn’t amused. He frowned and said, "I'm not trying to force anything on you, princess. I just keep hoping you’ll see my point about accepting help so that you’re not tethered to the house all the time. Ryan could be a real asset to you if you allowed him to be."
Marigold rolled her eyes. "I know you like him, and he’s good at his job. But I really think I can handle the estate on my own.”
“It’s not a question of your abilities,” her father said, setting down his Bellini flute. “Princess, I hope you don’t take this as too harsh a criticism, but you can be so bullheaded sometimes. I know you can run the estate yourself, but I don’t think it’s wise. What about Cynthia Robinson?”
Marigold was taken aback. She expected to hear pushback from her father today, but she never expected to hear that name on his lips. “What about her?”
He gave Mari a knowing look, then said, “I saw you sneaking off with her at the party.”
“I was just showing her the library,” Marigold said. It was true, if only a half-truth.
“Emily tells me you two are dating,” her father said, and Mari flushed with a wave of embarrassment. She’d never had this type of conversation with her father before and it was just as mortifying as the teenaged Marigold had imagined. “Don’t blame Emily. She’s just looking out for your best interest, the same as I am. Do you care about this girl, Cynthia?”
“She goes by Cyn,” Mari corrected. Then she smiled involuntarily as she answered, “Yes, I do. It’s only been a week but I’ve never felt this way about anyone before.”
“All the more reason to take a partner who can share the responsibility of running the estate,” her father said. “Princess, I did it alone for twenty-five years, but that’s because the house kept me busy. It kept me from missing your mother too much, but when I look back on my career, I think it would have been nice if I’d had more time to spend with you. Don’t follow in my footsteps just because you think it’s a badge of honor to carry all that weight yourself. If you care about Cyn, give the relationship an opportunity to grow. Don’t miss the forest for the trees.”
“I just don’t think Ryan is the right person to share that responsibility,” Marigold hedged. Her father was making a lot of sense, and she had found herself increasingly distracted over the past week thanks to Cyn’s new presence in her life. But all she’d wanted since she was young was to run Grimm House, and to honor her family history. “He’s so stuck on the financial side of things. Did you know last week he told me the foyer would look more modern if we painted the original wood trim a lighter color?”
Her father laughed at the horrified look on her face, then said, “I never said it had to be Ryan. Hold job interviews. Find a partner who’s right for you. Emily has more practical experience than business sense, but she might be a good fit for you.”
Mari sat back in her chair and sipped her Bellini. That was an idea.
The waiter came back and took their orders – Marigold liked to order off the seasonal menu and she picked a squash ravioli while her father ordered the same fresh vegetable omelet that he always had. Then while they were waiting for their meals, Marigold pulled a copy of the police sketch she’d made from her purse.
Cyn had told her the face didn’t ring a bell with her or any of the other firefighters, and no one on the Grimm House staff recognized the man, either. Marigold’s father was her last hope.
She unfolded the page and handed it to him, asking, “Does this man look familiar to you?"
"Let's see," her father said, pulling a pair of reading glasses out of the inside pocket of his suit jacket. He studied the paper carefully, then after a minute, he handed it back to her with a frown and said, "No, princess, I'm afraid he doesn't. Is he supposed to?"
"Not necessarily," Marigold said. "That's the man I saw in the garden on the morning of the fire. The sketch artist told me I should show it to everyone, but so far no one knows who it is. I thought it could be someone you’ve met through Grimm House, a business contact.”
"I don’t recognize him,” her father said. “Although, what’s that on his chin? A mole, maybe?”
“I’m not sure,” Mari said. “It was so dark, I didn’t get a good look at him. That’s the only distinguishing characteristic I could remember, and I don’t remember it well.”
“Whatever it is, I bet it won’t be hard to spot,” her father said.
Marigold folded the sketch and put it back in her purse, and the waiter came by again not long after with their meals. While they ate, her father kept smiling at Marigold until she began to suspect that the Bellini had gone to his head. “What?”
“Tell me about your girlfriend,” he said. “I’m so happy you’ve found someone.”
“It’s really new, and I w
ouldn’t say she’s my girlfriend yet,” Marigold hedged. It seemed almost superstitious to say she was, especially when their fate was still up in the air. And yet, she liked the sound of it. What would her life look like if Cyn Robinson really was her girlfriend? Finally, Marigold allowed herself to just be happy and not question it as she said, “She’s really great. I like her a lot.”
Twenty-Three
Cyn
For their next date, Marigold invited Cyn over to Grimm House a few days after their visit to the teen center. The estate was bustling with activity when she arrived, as Marigold’s staff prepared the amphitheater for a late-summer concert.
Cyn had felt conflicted about seeing Mari ever since she discovered the identity of the arsonist who torched her beloved garden. She knew she should tell Marigold the truth, but she also knew there was a good chance it would ruin the incredible thing that was growing between them. She’d waited ten years to feel this way, so she did her best to suppress her concerns every time Marigold wanted to see her.
When she met Mari in the foyer, Marigold looked anxious and a momentary panic rippled through Cyn. Does she know?
“What’s wrong?” she asked.
“Nothing,” Mari said. “It’s just that I’m usually the one who’s in charge of making sure the summer concerts are set up and ready to go.”
“You want to be out there, double-checking everything and making sure it’s all coming together, don’t you?” Cyn asked.
“My assistant, Emily, has everything under control,” Mari said, not sounding quite as confident as her words intended. “I’m treating this as a trial run to find out if I can handle stepping back a little, and to find out if Emily likes the increased responsibility. She’s handled plenty of other concerts and she’ll find me if there’s trouble, but tonight is about us. I thought we could make a picnic and take it down to the garden – we’ll be able to hear the concert from there, but it’ll also give us a little privacy from the crowd.”
“I like that,” Cyn said, sliding her arm around Marigold and giving her a kiss. Just relax and enjoy the time you have together, she told herself, then she asked, “Who’s playing?”
“It’s an all-female Grateful Dead tribute band,” Mari said, and Cyn’s eyes lit up before she even finished talking.
“The Scarlet Begonias,” Cyn said. “They play the bar circuit downtown. I love them.”
“Well then, it’s a date,” Marigold said. She kissed Cyn back, then led her to the staircase. “Come on, we’ll go up to my quarters and make a picnic basket.”
Mari brought Cyn up to the third floor, where her quarters comprised one wing of the estate and the rest of the staff quarters took up the rest of the floor. She gave Cyn a short tour, looking self-conscious as Cyn took in the enormous space.
The ceilings were twelve feet high, with intricate crown molding all around. There was a formal sitting room with a large stone fireplace as well as a cozier, but still quite large, living room. Heavy velvet drapes hung from all the windows and every inch of Marigold’s living quarters was elaborately decorated and meticulously clean.
“I didn’t design it,” she explained as they walked past a large bedroom. “My father hired a decorator when I was a kid and when he moved out, it just wasn’t very high on my priority list to make the space my own.”
“You live here alone?” Cyn asked as she paused in the doorway to the bedroom. Marigold’s bed was a four-poster that stood importantly in the center of the room, and there were dark wood dressers and armoires against the walls. The very sight of the bed made Cyn’s heart beat a little faster as she wondered where this date might end.
“I do,” Mari confirmed. “But I’m hardly ever here – I mostly just come up here to shower and sleep.”
“I can think of at least one more thing we could do,” Cyn said. She caught Marigold around the waist and ran her fingers through her wavy locks as she kissed her. The Scarlet Begonias’ first warm-up notes floated in through an open window and Cyn asked, “Should we get that picnic packed?”
“If you insist,” Mari said, grinning.
She brought Cyn to the kitchen, which had marble countertops and custom cabinetry, as well as top of the line appliances and the biggest refrigerator Cyn had ever seen outside of a professional kitchen. If this is the lifestyle Mari’s used to, I don’t ever want her to see my place, she thought as Mari went over to the fridge and pulled out a couple blocks of cheese.
“Smoked gouda or aged cheddar?” Mari asked.
“Both,” Cyn said. Mari pointed her to a wicker basket on the end of the counter and Cyn took over packing everything as Mari gathered it from the fridge and cupboards. There were the cheeses, plus a hard salami, a pack of rosemary crackers, and a bottle of red wine. When Cyn explained that she didn’t drink, Mari swapped it out for a couple bottles of sparkling water, then she set a couple of plates and a pair of cloth napkins on the counter. Cyn carefully packed it all, then picked up the basket and offered Marigold her elbow. “Shall we?”
“Yes,” Marigold said, pressing her body against Cyn’s so that her hips hit the counter as they shared another long kiss. How could she tell Mari her secret when she stood to lose so much?
Marigold grabbed a blanket from a large closet in her bedroom, then Cyn followed her down to the garden. They ducked under the caution tape and went past the burned-up section at the entrance, then Marigold brought her to a lush green space that Cyn hadn’t been to before. It was lit up with string lights and in the distance, the Scarlet Begonias were just ramping up with a soulful rendition of Box of Rain.
It was a perfect night – one that Cyn had dreamed of for a long time – and she wasn’t enjoying it as much as she wanted to. Not with her information about Drew weighing on her chest.
She’d hoped that getting Drew a better job and securing his promise to stop setting fires would be enough. If she could protect Grimm Falls – and Marigold – from her stepbrother, she could keep his secret.
But she hadn’t been able to shake the fear that he was lying to her, or that he’d mess up his interview, or even worse – that her relationship with Marigold would continue beyond her wildest dreams, she’d bring her home to meet her family someday, and the moment Mari met Drew, she’d know him from the police sketch she’d made. Even without the soul patch, the resemblance was clear.
How hurt would she feel if Cyn had known all along and never said anything?
Marigold lay out a blanket on a flat patch of grass in a small clearing of the garden, with tall wildflowers rising on three sides of them. It was a thick flannel one that she’d pulled out of her closet and it was soft as they sat down. Cyn set the picnic basket on the edge of the blanket and as they sat back to listen to the music, Mari sat with her hips touching Cyn’s, her body nestled into the crook of Cyn’s arm.
She had to tell Marigold what she knew before she fell any deeper in love with her.
It’s all a dream we dreamed one afternoon long ago. Cyn picked up the words to the song, the vocals carrying crystal clear across the grounds. When Marigold noticed the direction of her attention, she said, “It’s nice, isn’t it? Sometimes when I’m working late, I like to open the window in my office and listen to the concerts from there.”
“It’s beautiful,” Cyn said, then let out a sigh. She didn’t want to ruin the moment before they’d even had a chance to eat, but would the news go over any better on a full stomach? Better to get it over with. “I have to tell you something. It’s about your garden.”
“Did the fire inspector find a lead?” Mari asked, hopeful.
“No,” Cyn said. “In fact, he doesn’t know this information.”
She felt sick. Why couldn’t she just keep bottling this up and enjoy a night with the beautiful Marigold Grimm? It was a fantasy come true and she was about to ruin the whole thing.
“I’m sorry,” she said. “I’ve been twisting myself in knots for days over whether I should tell you. I think I have to, but I’m afraid.�
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“Afraid of what?” Marigold asked. It was just light enough thanks to the string lights for Cyn to see the confused expression on Mari’s face. The way she knit her brows together when she was anxious was endearing – everything about her was.
“Afraid you’ll be upset and I will have ruined what’s been building between us, which I’ve really enjoyed,” Cyn said. “And I’m also afraid that you’ll take the information and give it to Detective Holt.”
Marigold narrowed her eyes. “Are you trying to protect someone? Please don’t tell me you set my garden on fire.”
“No,” Cyn hurried to say. “God, no… but I’m pretty certain my stepbrother did.”
She looked into the tightly growing wildflowers while Friend of the Devil played through the air. I set out running but I’ll take my time. A friend of the devil is a friend of mine. Then Marigold asked, “How do you know?”
“That police sketch,” Cyn said. “I’m so sorry I lied to you, but as soon as I looked at it, I saw Drew. Then I went to his apartment and he had a pack of cigarettes that matched the brand of the one we found in your garden. I confronted him about it and he didn’t confess, but he may as well have.”
“Why didn’t you go to the police?” Marigold asked. “Or tell me when you figured it out?”
“He’s family,” Cyn said.
“He’s a criminal,” Marigold shot back. “And you told me yourself, he treats you like shit.”
“I know,” Cyn said, hanging her head. She felt like her heart was being physically pulled in two different directions, and even as she confessed all of this to Marigold, she didn’t know which side to choose. A family that didn’t respect her, but had always been there for her, or a new relationship that might blossom into something beautiful, or might not?