by Cindy Kirk
The relief that surged across his face told her he hadn’t been ready, not yet anyway, to sever that link with Anita. Marigold understood. She’d been there with Jason. She’d hung on to a relationship that no longer worked, reluctant to cut that last tie. The good news was, once she had been ready, she’d been able to move on with no regrets, no wondering what might have been.
“I wanted to wait to discuss the matter with your sisters until I’d gotten your thoughts.” He pushed to his feet. “I’m going to speak with Ami now. Then Prim. I’ll call Fin this evening. She likes to be kept in the loop.”
Her sisters, Marigold thought, were going to kick her to the curb when they heard she’d given her blessing to their father continuing to date I-Need-a-Man. She only hoped he understood she hadn’t given him her blessing to marry the woman. “Dad.”
He turned, a question in his gaze.
“What Cade said about connections, well, it was profound.” She stepped close. Despite the seriousness of what she was about to say, Marigold nearly smiled when she caught a whiff of Polo, his signature scent. “You don’t marry someone just because you’re lonely and hope to fill a void in your life. You only marry them if there’s a strong connection, a love for the ages, like the one you had with Mom. Otherwise, you end up being alone, even if you do marry.”
Her father pondered the words for a moment. “That’s why you didn’t marry Jason.”
Marigold found herself nodding, though she knew the issues between her and the attorney went much deeper than a lack of connection.
“And,” Steve moved to the door and opened it, then looked back at her, “that’s why you’re with Cade.”
He was out the door and gone before she could utter a single word.
Chapter Fifteen
The next morning, instead of attending church and meeting her family at Muddy Boots for breakfast, Marigold stayed home and focused on getting the wording perfect on several e-mail queries to the salons in New York City that seemed a good fit. She’d follow up with a personal call, but accomplishing the task made her feel as if she was making progress.
Seeing movement in the right direction was especially important today. This afternoon she and her family were scheduled to meet at Carly’s Cut and Curl. As the place had been empty for several months, some general cleaning was necessary before she opened for business tomorrow.
Though she needed the money, just the thought of picking up her scissors at such a place made her stomach churn. Heck, she’d been able to cut hair better than Carly when she’d been in high school. The cash she’d gotten from her friends for styling their hair had kept her in designer jeans.
No designer jeans today. Marigold glanced down. For today’s fun adventure she’d pulled out an old pair of Levi’s and coupled them with a long-sleeved tee she should have gotten rid of years ago. She slowed her steps down the stairs, in no hurry to reach the salon.
Marigold couldn’t help but wonder what she’d done to deserve such misfortune. She’d been a superb stylist and a loyal friend to Steffan. She hadn’t deserved to be fired and then blackballed.
It was almost as if the fates had come together and conspired to bring her down a notch—or ten—in order to teach her some kind of lesson. Force her back to where she’d started to show her she wasn’t such hot stuff? Make her see she would never be as smart and accomplished as her sisters? That her dreams were foolish and success would never be hers?
“No.”
She hadn’t realized she’d spoken aloud until the shouted word echoed in the empty stairwell.
Marigold paused and took a deep, steadying breath. She lifted her chin, squared her shoulders. While she might be down at the moment, this dip was a mere bump in the road of life. Maybe she was here to learn some lesson. She’d always believed no experience was wasted as long as you learned and grew from it.
This might also be a lesson in perseverance, in staying a course. Working out of this salon would also be a lesson in humility. Her lips quirked upward. A huge lesson in humility.
By the time she reached the Cut and Curl, she’d nearly convinced herself that working in such a setting was no big deal. A means to an end. The fact that no lights were on told her she was the first of her family to arrive.
That was good. Very good.
When she’d been inside before, it was only for a minute. Just long enough to see there was a shampoo bowl and chair and to tell Beck the space would work. That day, she hadn’t thought of the place as hers.
No matter how much she mentally prepared herself, she had the feeling that accepting that this was where she’d be working for the next few weeks was likely to be a jolt. She wanted to experience that jolt without witnesses.
As she turned the heavy copper key in the lock and stepped inside, Marigold realized she hadn’t been prepared. Not for this. It was as if all her worst fears were here, taunting her. She barely heard the ugly blue door shutting behind her.
Taking a ragged breath, Marigold took in the dusty white eyelet curtains at the window, the dull and scratched hardwood floor, and the wall mirror with a crack in the lower right corner. And the wallpaper . . .
Marigold shuddered. That long-ago day in the principal’s office when her father had looked sick and her mother had cried, she’d promised herself just “getting by” would never be her lot in life.
This was worse than any “getting by” she could have imagined . . .
Walking to the mirror behind the blue shampoo bowl, Marigold stared at her reflection. Though dressing up to do heavy cleaning made no sense, as she gazed at herself now and saw the hair twisted in a messy mass on the top of her head, she wished she’d made the effort. All she needed was a pink smock with her name embroidered on it to make the image of a small-town failure complete.
Hot tears stung the backs of her eyes.
“Sorry I’m late.” The door that she’d failed to lock behind her creaked open and Cade pushed inside, his hands balancing several pizza boxes. “I stopped to grab a couple of pies. Since it’s close to dinnertime, I figured we might get hungry.”
Marigold turned from the mirror. Gazing down, she blinked rapidly and pretended to be consumed with unfastening the buttons of her coat. When she released the last one, she had her emotions back under control. “That was nice of you.”
Cade flashed a smile. After shrugging off his jacket, he set the boxes on a countertop topped with a blue faux-marble pattern. “I’m a nice guy.”
Marigold knew he was probably expecting a pithy retort, but at the moment she didn’t have a single ounce of pithy in her.
“I missed you, Goldilocks.”
She didn’t protest when he pulled her into his arms but rested her head against his broad chest, finding comfort in the steady beat of his heart against her ear.
He rubbed his hands up and down her back in long, soothing strokes. “Bad day?”
“You mean other than the fact I’m going to be working out of this shit hole?”
Her mother would have washed her mouth out with soap for using such language. Cade only chuckled. “It’s not so bad.”
She jerked back and made a sweeping gesture with one hand. “Take a good look, Mr. Trained Observer, and say that again with a straight face.”
Cade did as she requested, inspecting the interior with the same care he’d give a crime scene. His lips twitched when his gaze settled on the prancing poodle wallpaper.
He shot her a quizzical look. “What do poodles in rhinestone collars have to do with a hair salon? Did Carly operate a dog grooming business out of here as well?”
Marigold couldn’t help it. The image his words conjured up, coupled with the light blue wallpaper with the frolicking white poodles, was so ridiculous she had to laugh. Either that or cry.
Everyone said laughter was good for the soul, and it must be true, because she felt her mood lift enough to snag a piece of pizza.
By the time Ami and Prim and the rest of her family strolled through the door,
Marigold felt centered again.
“Where’s Max?” Beck asked, taking one of the caddies filled with cleaning supplies Prim offered him.
“He’s home with the boys.” Prim’s smile was rueful. “The twins’ idea of cleaning is to get a sponge soaking wet and toss it at each other.”
“Will you look at that wallpaper.” Beck gave a chuckle and shifted his gaze to his wife. “What does that remind you of?”
“The wallpaper in Muddy Boots when you bought it.” Ami must have noticed Marigold’s confusion because she turned to her sister. “It had little coffeepots all over it.”
“Mud-brown and mustard-yellow coffeepots.” Beck shook his head. “Unbelievable.”
“I thought it was kind of cute,” Ami teased.
“No one thought that wallpaper was cute.” Beck slipped an arm around his wife’s waist and pulled her to him. “Not even you, darlin’.”
“Okay, maybe it was a little ugly.” Ami brushed a quick kiss across Beck’s cheek. “But look at Muddy Boots now. It’s gorgeous. Sometimes when something starts off . . .”
“Ugly.” Prim supplied.
“Yes, ugly. Well, it makes you appreciate the changes even more.”
Pollyanna has nothing on Ami, Marigold thought.
Their mother had loved the movie Pollyanna, and she and her girls had watched the Hayley Mills version at least once a year. They’d even played the glad game.
“Well, I’m glad the place isn’t any larger,” Marigold heard herself say. “Because then there would be even more poodles staring at me.”
“I’m glad the eyelet curtains aren’t something you wanted to save.” Ami jumped into the game that was second nature to her. “Because no curtains will allow natural sunlight to brighten the room.”
Prim gazed from one sister to the other, then a smile slowly spread across her face. “I’m glad we had a mother who taught us to always look on the bright side, to make the best of any situation.”
“I wish I could have known her,” Beck said simply.
“You would have liked her.” Marigold sighed. “Everyone did.”
For a moment no one spoke, then Prim handed a caddy to Ami. “These are all green, pregnancy-approved products.”
“Do I get pregnancy-approved products, too?” Cade joked.
“We all get them,” Prim said, her expression serious. “The way I see it, none of us should be exposed to harsh chemicals.”
The door creaked open once again and everyone turned.
“Sorry we’re late.” Steve hesitated, his gaze going to Marigold. “I swung by and picked up Anita. She wanted to help.”
Marigold hadn’t seen Anita since Friday night at the pond and would have been happy never to see her again. But she had given her dad the green light on the second chance. And Anita had shown up dressed to work.
“Thanks for coming.” Marigold put a note of warmth in her tone and was rewarded by the flash of pleasure in her father’s eyes.
Her sisters scattered as if fearful the piranha might want to start up a conversation with them. Anita didn’t seem to notice as her gaze remained fixed on Marigold.
The older woman took several steps, closing the distance between them.
“I’m very sorry about what I said Friday night. There’s no excuse for my actions. I want to assure you that type of behavior won’t happen again.” Anita’s voice trembled slightly. “I gave your father my word. Now I’m giving you mine. I hope you can forgive me and we can start over.”
When Anita held out her hand, Marigold took it.
Second chances.
New opportunities.
Forgiveness.
Was one of these the lesson she was in Good Hope to learn?
“I find it strange,” Marigold mused as she turned to lock the door of the salon, “the connection I see between this place and some of the people I knew in Chicago.”
Cade pulled his brows together. “I don’t follow.”
“Sometimes the shine only goes so deep.” For several heartbeats her gaze remained focused on the door’s peeling blue paint. “Sometimes it isn’t there at all.”
Cade still wasn’t certain he understood, but he was happy her mood had shifted from sad to philosophic. When he’d first arrived at the salon, he’d seen the distress in her eyes. All he’d wanted to do was hold her tight and let her lean on him. But then her sisters had arrived and she’d put on her strong face.
The wallpaper talk had lightened the mood. And when Ami and Prim had mentioned being glad about different things, Marigold had seemed to settle.
“What was all that glad talk about?”
As the night was unusually warm, they decided to take a walk instead of heading straight back to her apartment.
Marigold’s hand, nestled in the crook of his elbow, tightened around his bicep. “It’s a game we used to play growing up. At my mother’s instigation.”
“We don’t have to talk about it.” He spoke quickly. “I was just curious.”
“It’s okay. It’s a good memory.” She gave a little laugh. “The purpose of the glad game is to look for the good in any situation.”
She continued without giving him a chance to respond. “For example, you have to win an election to keep your job. What about the situation makes that a good thing?”
Cade thought for a moment.
But when he opened his mouth, she added, “Oh, and start the sentence with ‘I’m glad.’”
“I’m glad,” Cade paused and grinned, “that you’re so bossy.”
She bumped her hip into his with enough force to send them both skidding on a stray patch of ice. “I know sarcasm when I hear it, buster. If you want to get lucky tonight . . .”
He laughed and steadied her, knowing he’d get lucky either way. They couldn’t seem to keep their hands off each other.
“I’m waiting.” Her voice, now tinged with impatience, broke through his thoughts.
Cade moved his arm so her hand slid down. He gently locked their fingers together. “I’m glad I have to run because the experience has shown me how many friends I’ve made and the support I’ve gained in my short time in Good Hope.”
“That’s good.” She squeezed his hand and nodded approval. “Excellent, in fact.”
“What about you? What good has come from you losing your job?” The second the words left his mouth, Cade wished he could snatch them back. Spending time in Carly’s Cut and Curl this evening had to have been a kick in the gut. He didn’t need to keep adding to her pain with his thoughtless questions. “Forget it. Let’s focus on the beautiful weather. Can you believe how warm it got today?”
Though it was only January, the balmy night and mild breeze from the bay made it feel almost like spring. He thought how nice it would be when it was warm enough to take Marigold to the Flying Crane. They’d sit on the large deck overlooking the water, a plate of nachos and a couple of beers between them. Maybe she’d have one of their fancy margaritas. They’d laugh and talk and . . .
Cade reined in the fanciful thoughts, reminding himself that by the time the weather cooperated enough to eat on the deck, Marigold would be long gone.
“You don’t have to coddle me.” Her eyes turned soft and she gave his arm a squeeze. “I’ll play the game.”
The night sky was clear with only a sliver of a moon overhead, a perfect backdrop to showcase the twinkling stars to full advantage.
But Cade wasn’t looking at the sky. He was looking at Marigold, with her curly crop of blonde hair spilling out from a simple black hat, brows now furrowed in concentration.
“I’m glad I lost my job because it gave me the opportunity to spend time with my family . . . and with you.” A gentle heat filled the air between them. “If I hadn’t returned to Good Hope, I’d never have gotten to know you. That would have been my loss.”
Hope rose inside him, and the force was so strong, the words he’d been keeping under tight control spilled out. “What can I do to convince you to stay?�
�
The question dangled naked in the still night air.
Marigold stopped walking. With a slow, calculated movement, she turned and faced him.
“I’d like you to consider staying. See if you could find success here.” Despite his efforts to keep his tone casual, Cade heard the tension. He could bullet point all the positives for her to stay in Good Hope, but they wouldn’t be any she didn’t already know. That left speaking from the heart. “What we have is—”
He hesitated. Would the word magical sound lame? And what if the connection was only on his side? Maybe what he considered special wasn’t special at all, at least not to her.
His momentary pause gave her the opening he hadn’t wanted to give.
“We agreed going in our relationship would be temporary.” Her voice reminded him of piano wire, wound a little too tight. “If what we have now isn’t enough or isn’t working for you, just tell me and we can end this now.”
Panic flared, but he ruthlessly stomped it down. In the Marine Corps, he’d learned to keep his emotions under control, especially in difficult situations. When he spoke, his tone was easy. “I’d like you to stay. That’s all. I don’t expect that to happen.”
He must have sounded convincing, because she relaxed and resumed walking. She even took his arm.
“I don’t know if I told you I e-mailed a couple of salons in New York City. There’s one in the West Village I really like. It has a great rep. Not only is it color based, I’ve heard from several of my connections that Angelo is actively seeking someone who has a special interest in clients with curly hair. If I could pick any salon to restart my climb to the top—it would be there.” The words tumbled out on a single breath. Though outwardly she appeared relaxed, there was a tension in her grip that hadn’t been there before. “On the other hand, Fin is still pushing me to move to LA.”
“Are any salons in California on your short list?” Wherever Marigold chose to settle, Cade wanted her happy.
