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

by Cindy Kirk

  Then it struck him, and those last few puzzle pieces tumbling around in his head fell into place. It was time for her to start wrapping up loose ends. One of those loose ends was him.

  Cade hadn’t seen this coming, not so soon. He doubted this talk had been on the agenda for tonight. But Eliza’s questions had given Marigold the opening she’d likely been searching for . . .

  Though Marigold didn’t need anything other than the move as a reason to sever ties with him, Cade could only assume she’d wanted something more to add weight. Tonight she’d found a reason—albeit a shaky one—and had clamped on to it with the fervor of a drowning person snatching a life preserver.

  He longed for more time but knew, because he loved her, he’d always wish for one more day. Cade let his gaze linger on her face, memorizing each feature.

  “Good-bye, Marigold.” Cade extended a hand. Immediately realizing how ridiculous that was, he let it fall to his side. “Best of luck in Los Angeles. Or New York. Or wherever your dreams take you.”

  There was nothing more to say.

  No reason to linger any longer.

  He turned. With regret for a love that would never be fully realized fueling his steps, Cade walked down the hall and didn’t look back.

  Marigold wasn’t sure how long she remained seated in the chair at the end of the long, deserted hallway. She only knew it was Ami who finally came for her.

  “You didn’t return,” Ami called out from halfway down the hall. “Whatever Cade showed you had to be something spectacular to keep you away this long.”

  Her sister’s smile began to fade the closer she got to Marigold. “Where is he?”

  “He’s gone.” The words seemed to come from far away.

  “Gone?” Ami cocked her head. “As in—?”

  Marigold surged to her feet. “As in gone forever. As in we broke up. As in I don’t want to talk about it.”

  “But what—”

  “I don’t want to talk about him. Okay?” It took all of Marigold’s control not to snap. She managed a smile, though it felt more like a grimace.

  “Sure. Whatever you want.” Ami gestured down the hall. “Let’s go back to the table. Everyone’s . . . concerned.”

  “What did they think happened?” Even to her own ears, her voice sounded brittle, as if ready to shatter into a million pieces.

  Ami said nothing.

  Marigold slanted a sideways glance. Two bright patches of color rode high on her eldest sister’s cheeks.

  “Ami?” Marigold pressed.

  “Prim thought Cade may have proposed.” Ami lifted her shoulders, let them fall. Her color deepened. “For being so serious most of the time, Prim is quite the romantic.”

  “Why would she think he proposed?” Marigold demanded. “She knows I’m leaving Good Hope. I’ve made that very clear.”

  Ami moistened her lips with the tip of her tongue, hesitated. “Sometimes plans change. You seemed happy here—”

  “It’s called making the best of a bad situation.”

  Ami’s face blanched as if Marigold had slapped her. She took a deep breath in, clasped her hands together. “I didn’t realize being here was such a hardship.”

  “That’s not what I meant.” The beginnings of a headache pounded in Marigold’s temple. She raked a hand through her hair and tried to think what she did mean.

  They’d reached the ballroom. The romantic music made Marigold want to cry. But she wouldn’t.

  She lifted her chin.

  She was Marigold Bloom. She was strong. She was mighty.

  She would survive. But it would be without the man she loved.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  When Marigold didn’t show up for church the next morning or make an appearance at Muddy Boots, the Bloom sisters gathered up all the chocolates they could find, along with a couple of bottles of wine and sparkling grape juice, and showed up at her door.

  “No need to wait for an invitation.” Marigold muttered the words, but she might as well have been talking to the wind.

  Fin pushed past her, with Prim and Ami following.

  Marigold swiped at her hair. She hadn’t bothered brushing it or applying makeup. The yoga pants and oversize purple shirt she’d gotten as a gag gift for her birthday last year only added to the not-so-pretty picture.

  Fin’s gaze dropped to read the message dashed across the front of the shirt. She lifted a brow. “They call me a hairstylist because BADASS isn’t a job title. Seriously?”

  Despite her pensive mood, a ghost of a smile touched Marigold’s lips. “The tee was a birthday gift from some friends. Their second choice was Hairstylists Give the Best Blow Jobs.”

  Ami brought a hand to her chest. “Oh, my.”

  “I’ll get you that one for your next birthday.” Prim gave Marigold a wink. “Before you know it, you’ll have a whole drawer of tacky tees.”

  “If you do, make it another color.” Fin narrowed her gaze. “Purple washes her out.”

  “Keep that in mind, Prim.” Marigold’s tone held a slight edge. “Fin has decreed no purple.”

  Prim, looking as pretty as a strawberry parfait in a pink cashmere sweater, lifted her phone and keyed in. “Got it. No purple for Marigold.”

  Ami hung her jacket on the coat tree just inside the front door. When she turned, Marigold saw her sister had that look in her eye. The same one their mother used to give her when she’d tried to keep things from her.

  “What’s the latest?” Ami asked in a conversational tone.

  Marigold lifted a brow. “You mean other than Fin telling me what to do and what to wear?”

  Fin swiveled to face her youngest sibling, her eyes boring into Marigold’s. “Ditch the attitude, Marigold. It’s as unattractive as your shirt.”

  Marigold gave her an arch look. “Purple doesn’t look good on you, either.”

  “That’s why I don’t wear it.” Fin took a seat in a nearby chair and crossed one long leg over the other.

  “We’ll get settled, then you’ll tell us why you’re avoiding us.” Ami moved into the kitchen, and from the clinking Marigold heard, she surmised she was grabbing some glasses.

  “I hardly think skipping church and breakfast on a Sunday morning constitutes avoiding you,” Marigold told her sisters. “Did any of you consider I might just have wanted to sleep late?”

  The sisters merely exchanged glances.

  Prim cleared the steamer trunk—still masquerading as a coffee table—of magazines, then dumped wrapped, bite-size candy pieces into a white porcelain bowl with yellow stripes.

  “Is this foul mood because you broke up with the sheriff?” Fin appeared bored by the thought.

  Marigold crossed her arms, ignoring the pang in her heart. “If this is some sort of relationship intervention, you’re wasting your time.”

  “You and Cade broke up last night.” Prim’s voice went deep with worry.

  The words, true as they were, held the force of a hard punch. “Which was the plan from the moment we started dating. It was never—”

  Ami held up a hand. A sudden look of tenderness crossed her face. “We understand that, sweetie. Still, you’ve been dating Cade since you got back in town. The breakup of a relationship that long demands chocolate. It’s a takes-a-village kind of thing.”

  Marigold wearily massaged her brow. Though she was touched by her sisters’ concerns, the last thing she wanted was to sit around a steamer trunk and sing “Kumbaya.”

  “This isn’t just about you, Marigold.” Prim unwrapped a Snickers Bite and popped it in her mouth, chewed.

  “Fin and Xander are on shaky ground, so we need to support her with chocolate.” Ami looked up, a bottle in each hand.

  “And with wine,” Fin added. “Lots and lots of wine.”

  “Wine,” Ami agreed, then glanced down at the bottle of sparkling grape juice and sighed, “for those of you not preggers.”

  “Plus,” Prim reached over and grabbed another chocolate, “we need to c
elebrate the end of Dad’s relationship with Anita. That breakup has been way too long coming and deserves a toast or two.”

  When her sisters put it that way, how could she refuse to join in? Still, over the next couple of hours Marigold made a concerted effort to keep the focus of the conversation on Fin and Anita and off her and Cade.

  In Chicago, she’d become an expert at keeping her deepest thoughts and feelings to herself. At her level, you never knew when someone might want to use some comment you’d tossed off casually—or told them in confidence—to bring you down.

  Marigold trusted her sisters. That wasn’t the issue this afternoon. She just couldn’t bring herself to talk about Cade. Or about the job offer she’d received just that morning. By the time Ami and Prim rose to leave, the sisters didn’t know any more about what was going on in her head than they did when they arrived.

  Instead of leaving with the others, Fin merely poured herself another glass of wine and sat back against the plump cushions. It was a relaxed pose, the forest-green cashmere sweater hugging breasts that reminded Marigold of melons.

  After pouring herself another glass of wine, Marigold cocked her head. “Did you have a boob job?”

  Fin laughed, a full, robust sound that echoed in a room that now seemed too empty. “No. Why?”

  Marigold dropped into the chair nearest the sofa. “That sweater makes your breasts look humongous.”

  Fin glanced down, grinned. “I’ll have to wear it more often.”

  “I imagine lots of women in California have cosmetic surgery.” Marigold eyed the candy left behind but shifted her gaze back to her sister without taking a piece.

  “People, especially those in the film or television industry, need to look their best. No different than the clientele that frequents the Steffan Oliver Salon.” Fin cast her a speculative gaze. “You know we can sit here all day and talk about everything but what’s going on in that head of yours. Or you can save us the time, not to mention the calories from these chocolates, and simply be honest with me.”

  Marigold shifted uncomfortably. Ami’s green eyes were always so warm and comforting. The ones trained on hers now were razor-sharp and unbending.

  She might be able to . . .

  “Don’t even think about changing the subject back to me or Anita.” Fin rolled her eyes. “Either pregnancy has fogged our sisters’ brains or they were too kind to point out your continued evasion. I’m not kind. Or easily fooled. So don’t bother.”

  Marigold’s mouth snapped shut. She expelled a breath, felt fresh anger surge.

  “Cade didn’t say a word to me about the other job.” Marigold’s voice snapped, then cracked slightly. “Don’t you think that’s something you should tell the person you’re dating?”

  “Is it?” Fin sounded slightly bored.

  “Of course it is.”

  Fin took another sip of wine. “Did you two talk much about the future?”

  Marigold kept her eyes averted as she filled her wineglass, recalling the accusation Cade had thrown at her. “We talked a lot about campaign strategies.”

  Fin waved a dismissive hand.

  “Cade told me Good Hope is where he wants to live.”

  “He likes it here.” Fin took a drink. “Lots of people do.”

  “He fits in,” Marigold grudgingly conceded. “He’s happy here.”

  “Tell me. What did the happy sheriff have to say when you asked him about the position in Village Green?”

  “He said it was a backup in case he loses the election.”

  “Logical.”

  “I don’t know what’s so logical about it. Cade could relocate anywhere, if he was willing.”

  “Ah.” Fin set down her glass of wine, her green eyes glittering. “Now we’re getting somewhere.”

  “No, we’re not.” Even as panic rose up inside Marigold, she narrowed her gaze on her sister. “How much have you had to drink?”

  “Two and a half glasses. Not nearly enough to be steered off track.” Fin chuckled. “Anyway, I see it the way you do. There’s no reason the sheriff couldn’t relocate to wherever you decide to settle.”

  “He wouldn’t do that.” The ache in Marigold’s chest became a pulsating pain. “He likes small-town life too much.”

  “More than he likes you?”

  “Yes.” Marigold pushed the word past frozen lips.

  “There are bedroom communities surrounding any large city,” Fin continued as if Marigold hadn’t spoken, her tone easy and conversational. “He could be a sheriff or a police chief in one of those. You could live in one of those towns and commute. Though, if you decide that’s an option, you’d be better off in New York City than LA because of the access to mass transit.”

  “I got the job,” Marigold murmured, wondering why she wasn’t shouting the words to the heavens and celebrating. “Angelo called and offered me the position.”

  Fin’s green eyes gave nothing away. “You took it?”

  “Not yet.”

  “What are you waiting for?”

  “I don’t want to rush into anything.”

  “It’s your dream job,” Fin reminded her.

  Marigold took a deep breath, let it out slowly. “When I was diagnosed with dyslexia, I made a vow.”

  Fin inclined her head. “Did you?”

  “I vowed I would be more successful than Ami and Prim and you.” Marigold twisted her fingers together on her lap, then quickly pulled them apart when she caught her sister’s sharp-eyed stare.

  “Successful in what way?”

  Marigold bristled. “That’s a crazy question.”

  “Humor me.”

  “In my career, of course. When I reach the top of my profession, everyone would see—” Marigold swallowed hard against the lump trying to form in her throat.

  Fin raised a perfectly tweezed brow. “That you aren’t stupid?”

  Marigold surged to her feet, her heart pounding as if she’d just run a large race. “I’m not stupid.”

  Her shouted words echoed in the stillness, but the hurled ball of fury merely bounced off her sister.

  “Of course you aren’t stupid,” Fin agreed in a calm voice. “Though at the moment you’re not acting particularly brilliant.”

  Marigold flung out her hands in frustration. “What are you talking about?”

  “Cade.”

  Marigold stiffened as if struck, and when she spoke, she couldn’t quite keep the bitterness from her voice. “Cade didn’t care enough to look for a solution.”

  “What about you?” Fin’s expression remained carefully blank. “Did you care enough to look for one?”

  Marigold waited for Fin to say more, but her sister merely finished off her third glass of wine.

  “No. I mean I didn’t look for a solution, but it wasn’t because I didn’t care.” Marigold expelled a heavy sigh. “I made it clear to Cade I wouldn’t be staying in Good Hope. If he really wanted to discuss a future with me, he should have pressed. Then we could have searched for a solution together.”

  “Just out of curiosity.” Fin set down her empty glass. “What was your response the times he made the attempt?”

  “How do you know he tried?”

  Fin gave her the fish eye. “You shut him down.”

  Marigold lifted her chin in a stubborn tilt. “He could have pressed.”

  “You shut him down,” Fin repeated. “You made it clear your plans didn’t include him. Why would he?”

  Frustration bloomed inside Marigold. She clenched her fists. “Yes, but—”

  “Each time he tried, you blew him off,” Fin continued despite Marigold’s hiss of protest. “You’re blaming him for something you have ownership in. Doesn’t surprise me. You did the same with Mom.”

  “Wh-what are you talking about?” Startled, Marigold stumbled over the words.

  “Mom knew how much attending cosmetology school in Chicago meant to you. When she’d mention schools closer to home, you didn’t want to discuss it. Wha
t did you expect her to say when you asked how she was doing? Though her physical appearance said otherwise, you chose to believe she was fine. Why? So you could get on with your life.”

  Too stunned to speak, Marigold could only stare as Fin succumbed to temptation and popped a chocolate in her mouth.

  “That isn’t fair.”

  Based on Fin’s unyielding stare, Marigold’s protest fell on unsympathetic ears.

  “What isn’t fair is to blame Mom—or Cade—when you don’t communicate your own feelings honestly.” Fin’s matter-of-fact tone may have come across as harsh, but her eyes had softened to a bottle green. “If you wanted to stay close to Mom in those last days, you should have told her. If you want the job in New York, you need to take it. If you’d like to try to make something work with Cade, you need to tell him. This isn’t rocket science, little sister. You can’t control what happens next, but at least if you’re honest about your feelings, you won’t have to live with regret.”

  Tears stung the backs of Marigold’s eyes. This time she didn’t blink them back.

  Fin leaned over and took her hands. “Figure out what’s important to you, decide how far you’re willing to bend. This might also be a good time to take another look at your definition of success.”

  “There’s only one definition,” Marigold insisted.

  Fin’s eyes brimmed with sudden amusement before she sobered. “Prim and Ami both have good—what many would consider quite successful—careers, but that isn’t where their happiness lies. You and I, no matter how high we go in our chosen fields, can’t hope to touch what they have with Max and Beck.”

  “Cade is my prince,” Marigold blurted out.

  “All the more reason to be honest with yourself, and with him. A prince often only comes around once.” Fin reached for the wine bottle. “Be very sure before you walk away from yours.”

  “Izzie.” Cade pulled to an abrupt stop at the sight of the artist stepping out of the alley. “What are you doing here?”

  The day before Valentine’s Day had dawned arctic cold. Though a warm front was predicted to be headed their way, Cade wouldn’t believe it until the temperature rose above freezing.