by Cara Malone
“What about the fifty-three weddings we did last year?” Emily reminded her. “Plus, we have the annual service awards ceremony, the Christmas gala… all the kids love the Easter egg hunt on the lawn, there’s the volunteer work you do at the teen center, oh, and the summer concert series is a big hit-”
“I get it,” Mari said, pausing at the bottom of the stairs and shifting her weight to her toes to give her aching heels a rest. “We do a lot of events. They all go well. We have a great staff here. Thanks for the reminder, Em.”
“It doesn’t sound to me like you’re planning to calm down at all,” Emily said. “Trust me, we have this under control.”
“I do trust you,” Mari said, and it was true even if Emily could see the but coming a mile away. “But I have a lot riding on this event. I can’t afford to calm down.”
This was the first event that her father had handed over to her completely. She’d made a rock-solid argument that it wouldn’t be appropriate for him to plan his own retirement party, and when he agreed, Mari took over the planning with great enthusiasm.
“You know your father’s going to hand the estate over to you, right?” Emily said, giving her a pitying look. “You don’t even have siblings to compete with.”
Mari smiled. Emily thought she was being ridiculous – they’d had that conversation many times since her father mentioned retirement last Christmas. “I’m not worried about getting the estate. I’m worried about having to share it.”
“Spoken like an only child,” Emily said with a laugh.
“Do you know if the linens have arrived yet?” Mari asked.
She was looking at her clipboard, and the expanse of white space beside linens on her list. Almost everything else had at least one tidy little checkmark next to it, but those linens were becoming troublesome. She couldn’t stand in the entryway all morning talking about birth order theory. She rocked back on her heels to give her toes a break.
“Yes,” Emily said, sounding exhausted by the subject. “They’re being ironed in the laundry room as we speak. They’ll be everything you could possibly want from table linens, perfectly crisp and lime green.”
“Lime green?!”
Emily let out a snorting laugh that echoed in the tall-ceilinged entryway. “They’re white. Your face though-”
“Jerk,” Mari said. She put a neat checkmark next to linens, making a mental note to check on the ironing herself in a little while. Then she said, mostly to herself, “I should check on the garden next, make sure it’s been properly weeded…”
“The landscaper came yesterday afternoon,” Emily said. “He said it’s the best flower garden we’ve had since your mother tended it herself.”
Mari had to pause to revel in that. “Really?”
“Yeah,” Emily said.
Mari smiled, then said, “Well, I’m going to take a look at the chocolate cosmos. They were looking a little wilty during the dry spell last month, but I think they’re coming back. Do me a favor?”
“Not until you tell me what it is,” Emily said.
“Let me know if you see Ryan,” she said. “I sent him into the city to confirm some details with the caterer, but I imagine he’ll be back soon.”
“Can’t you confirm catering details over the phone?” Emily asked. Mari gave her a wink and Emily shook her head. “You sly dog, you. Poor guy probably doesn’t know the meaning of the term fool’s errand.”
Mari felt a twinge of guilt. Ryan was the estate’s marketing director and the third in command, after Marigold herself. If her father had his way, she and Ryan would run the estate together after he retired, and if Mari had her way, Ryan would be updating his resume the day after the retirement party.
With a glowing recommendation from her, of course. She wasn’t a monster – she just didn’t want a partner, and especially not Ryan. She answered Emily with, “When my father is congratulating me on an event well-executed, I want to be able to tell him it was all me.”
“So when I see Ryan, I’ll send him your way so you can give him more meaningless busywork,” Emily said. “Got it.”
“Thank you,” Mari said.
“You’re welcome,” Emily said. Mari headed for the service hallway that would take her out to the garden. Behind her, Emily called, “And put on some sneakers! Those flats are ridiculous.”
“They’re Coach,” Mari objected over her shoulder.
She went outside, her blue eyes narrowing in the brilliant, late morning sun. The expansive estate stretched out before her – a view that Marigold never tired of. Grimm House sat on forty acres of lush grass, sparkling ponds, and secluded woods. There was a stone amphitheater built into the hillside about two acres from the house, where the thespians and musicians of Grimm Falls performed regularly, and a large wooden pergola beneath which Mari had watched dozens of happy couples wed.
The property had belonged to her family ever since the founding of Grimm Falls itself, when Marigold’s great-grandfather, Rudolph Grimm, traveled there from Germany. He had the estate built to honor his father, the celebrated author Wilhelm Grimm, and he’d brought many manuscripts and hand-written drafts to fill the house’s library.
That rich history was something Emily understood academically, but not emotionally. It only made Ryan see dollar signs, but Marigold and her father both felt the tradition of the property in their blood.
Mari turned to the left as she walked out the door, heading up the wide stone path that would take her to her favorite part of the estate – the garden. There was greenery spilling over the path, climbing arches and hanging overhead. All of it had the effect of making Marigold feel like she was walking into a fairy tale every time she entered the garden, and it never failed to take her breath away for just a moment.
The garden covered more than an acre of land. It grew every year with new plants and interesting features, like the circular meditation labyrinth that Mari had built after a college trip to India, and the koi pond that her father told her had always been on her mother’s wish list. The garden had been her mother’s pride and joy and she’d nursed it just like a baby through her childless twenties and thirties. Marigold had been their miracle baby, conceived long after the doctors had given up on Philip and Anita Grimm’s chances.
Mari knew every flower and every plant by name by the time she was ten. She never let the landscaper work in the garden without her. She had the koi pond installed on her twenty-fifth birthday - the twenty-fifth anniversary of her mother’s death - and she sat by it often.
Just like Mari could feel the history of Grimm House in her blood, she could feel her mother’s presence in the cool dirt beneath her hands, or the sweet perfume of delicate rose buds, or the peaceful song of robins in the morning. She could think of no better place to honor her father’s career, although this morning, the garden could hardly be called peaceful.
There were staff members all over, carrying long wooden tables and setting them up in a long row on the central path from which the garden branched out. Despite Emily’s assurances, the setup appeared to be going slower than Mari would have liked.
In three days’ time, all the influential people in Grimm Falls would be here in their finest tuxedos and gowns, expecting a gourmet meal. None of the chairs were set up yet, and the string lights that would hang over the tables and illuminate the meal were still laying in neatly coiled heaps on the side of the path.
Mari blew a ringlet of light blonde hair out of her face, clutched her clipboard to her chest, and got to work. By the night of the party, there would not be so much as a burned-out bulb over the table, a wilted mum in the centerpiece, or a leaf out of place in her garden.
Four
Cyn
Cyn finished writing up her report on the museum fire the day after the incident and because things were quiet at the firehouse, she decided to walk the five blocks to the police station to deliver it.
She’d taken extra care in writing down her impressions of the scene, and ran through
each of her five senses in her mind while she tried to pick out any details that could be helpful to the fire investigator. She hadn’t picked up on anything that she thought was significant – and neither had anyone else on her crew – but the fire wasn’t sitting right with her, and you never knew what might be a clue to the investigator’s trained eye.
In her four years as a Grimm Falls firefighter, Cyn had worked on only five arson cases. One was the work of bored teenagers who underestimated the power of fire, and the other four cases had never been solved.
That wasn’t out of the ordinary. Accelerants like gasoline or lighter fluid, or even strategically stacked newspapers, could easily go unnoticed in the rush to secure the area and put out the fire, and arsonists don’t exactly walk around proclaiming the success of their crimes. People burn things to hide secrets, or as seemed to be the case with Anthony Rosen’s painting, to seek revenge. That was why it was so important for Cyn and her crew to be observant when arriving on the scene of every fire.
What color is the smoke?
Where’s its origin?
Are there any bystanders who seem suspicious?
Firebugs like to admire their work, and often, they like to hang around to watch the first responders fight the blaze. There were just a bunch of museum employees and kids at the scene this time, and Cyn couldn’t see evidence of an accelerant in use. But the more she racked her brain for details, the more she wondered about those four unsolved cases. Did they have anything to do with this one?
It was unlikely. Arsonists weren’t the type to lay low – they set a single fire to accomplish their goal, or in the case of serial offenders, they tended to work in a short timeframe. Still, Cyn wanted to mention the cases to Detective Holt when she turned in her report. Even with the pathetically low conviction rate for arson – or maybe because of it – Cyn knew he would leave no stone unturned. He was good at his job just like she was good at hers, and they both wanted the same thing – to protect Grimm Falls.
Of course, the best scenario would be securing an easy confession from Braden Fox, the guy who’d gotten in a bar fight with Anthony. Nothing tied a case up in a neat little bow like a simple act of revenge.
Enjoying the way the afternoon sun baked down on her skin, Cyn took her time walking to the police station. She took the stone steps two at a time to get her heart pumping, then stepped aside and held the station door open for an elderly woman with silver hair and a walker who was on her way out.
“Thank you, dear,” she said as the wheel of her walker got stuck on the door jamb. Cyn lifted it out, a little swell of pride in her chest at being of use to the woman.
Then while she waited for her to clear the door, a sparkle of green caught Cyn’s eye. She looked down to street level, where an emerald green BMW was pulling into a parking spot on the curb across the road.
Cyn’s heart skipped a beat.
It was silly. The sight of that car alone was powerful enough to make her heart seize whenever she saw it around the city. Fortunately, or unfortunately, it didn’t happen too often, but when it did, the car was almost always parked in front of Green Thumb Nursery’s downtown storefront.
Cyn waited, and a moment later she was rewarded with a rare glimpse of the driver. Marigold Grimm stepped out of the car, her blonde hair flowing in the breeze. She flipped it over her shoulder, wavy and perfectly styled like she’d just stepped out of a shampoo commercial. She was wearing a pair of khaki shorts that rode high up the long stems of her legs. On her feet were a pair of loafers that probably cost more than Cyn’s entire wardrobe, and the neckline of her loose-fitting blouse drew Cyn’s attention.
She’d never seen Marigold with so much as a hair out of place. Cyn often wondered if she was the type of girl who got up two hours early just to get ready for the day. It was that, or little birds flew into her window every morning to help her get dressed.
Cyn didn’t have a hard time imagining either possibility, and either way, it was working for her. Marigold was Grimm Falls royalty, and she looked the part.
“I said thank you,” the old woman said sharply.
“Hmm?”
“You can let go of the door now, sweetie,” she said, and Cyn realized that the woman and her walker were a good three feet away, at the top of the accessibility ramp. “I appreciate the dedication, though.”
Cyn’s cheeks colored slightly and she nodded at the woman, wondering sheepishly if she’d noticed the direction of her gaze. When she looked back across the street, Marigold was just slipping through the Green Thumb door.
Probably getting ready for her father’s high-profile retirement party.
It wasn’t the first time Cyn had lost track of reality when Marigold Grimm was around, and it probably wouldn’t be the last. Cyn had been hypnotized by her since the first time she’d laid eyes on her, when she was twelve and Marigold was fifteen – three years too old to bother with her. Marigold was Drew’s age and he’d had just as fierce a crush on her as Cyn had. Cyn took a small amount of consolation in the fact that Marigold never seemed to give him the time of day, either.
Cyn turned to go inside the police station and found Gus with his arms folded across his chest, grinning at her. She rolled her eyes. “What?”
“Nobody told me we hired a door greeter,” he said. “Firehouse not paying you enough so you have to moonlight for us?”
“Somebody’s got to have the courtesy to hold doors for the elderly,” Cyn said. “Unless you’d rather let the paramedics get involved after someone wipes out on these impractical stone steps.”
Gus looked over Cyn’s shoulder, then said with a grin, “Or maybe it has something to do with a certain green BMW across the street.”
“Maybe,” Cyn confessed. Gus was her oldest friend and she knew the futility of trying to hide her crush from him – it had been well-documented over the years, and Gus knew it all. Not that there was much to tell – Cyn had spoken to Marigold about three times in her life, and somehow that was enough to keep the flame burning.
Marigold Grimm simply could not be forgotten.
“Why don’t you grow a pair and finally ask her out?” Gus asked.
“She doesn’t know I exist,” Cyn said. “Not to mention the fact that we probably don’t even play for the same team.”
“I know,” Gus said. “But don’t you think it would be so much easier to get over her if you actually heard her reject you? It’s time to grow out of that crush, Cinders.”
“You’re right,” she said, although she couldn’t fathom wanting anyone else. “Is Detective Holt around? I have to turn in my report on the museum fire.”
“Yeah, he’s at his desk,” Gus said. “I’m on my way out to lunch. You wanna grab a burger with me when you’re done?”
“Sure,” Cyn agreed. She stepped into the building and let the door swing shut, nearly clipping Gus’s foot with it to pay him back for the smart remarks.
Five
Practice Makes Perfect
It was two in the morning and he couldn’t sleep because of that itchy feeling. It had been growing ever since he watched that canvas burn, and tonight it got him out of bed.
He wound up at the old red barn on County Route 10 without much thought. It was like his feet led him there of their own accord, and when he stood in front of the building, his thumb rolling over the wheel of his lighter, he knew it was right.
About three miles outside of town, no witnesses as far as he could see – the house that went with the barn had been razed in the nineties to make room for more lanes on the highway. Traffic in and out of Grimm Falls was much heavier now than when he was a kid, but the barn was well back from the road, and anyway, there weren’t many people driving at this hour who would care about him and his lighter.
He pulled it out of his pocket and gave the wheel a flick. The little orange flame was comforting, like a friend or at least an ally.
The barn, on the other hand… well, there would be no love lost when he burned it to t
he ground. It was at least a century old, its wood siding rotted and hanging tentatively from rusty nails. There were more holes than patches of solid wall, and its red paint was dirty and flaking off all over the ground.
Probably lead-based to boot, he thought.
He was here to satisfy the peculiar new itch he’d acquired, but he took pride in the knowledge that he was also doing Grimm Falls a favor. This barn was where generations of the city’s teenagers gathered to drink their parents’ booze, and it was a total death trap.
He’d fix that tonight, with one strike of his lighter wheel.
He poked his head inside first. There was no sign of recent debauchery when he arrived, but he was just here to light a little fire – he didn’t want to hurt anyone. Looking inside the barn – carefully, lest the old, dry-rotted support beams give way in a preemptive act of God – he remembered his own youthful indiscretions. Nothing too bad – just a little partying on prom night.
He hadn’t thought of the barn in years, but it was starting to come back to him now. Prom night had been okay. It would have been better if he’d gotten invited to the real after party, but back then he knew how to make his own fun.
Yeah, he was going to enjoy making his own fun again tonight.
He used the flashlight on his phone to gather up some dry grass and packed it around the base of the building. If he’d been thinking and not just walking, he would have brought something like gasoline, or lighter fluid, to get the job done quicker. But if the barn burned slowly, he’d have longer to enjoy it.
He lit as many small fires as he could in the dry brush, then he walked into the tall grass surrounding the building. All that land used to be cornfields, tall and green, providing a perfect illusion of solitude. Now it was just weeds.
The barn burned delightfully slowly.
The flames ate their way up the plank siding, crackling and popping as the fire consumed the old wood. By the time he heard the first support beam crash to the ground inside, the fire was burning bright as day and he could feel the heat on his cheeks. He knew it was time to go when he heard the fire engine in the distance, its siren blaring. But he couldn’t move. Instead, he crouched low in the overgrown weeds and watched as half a dozen of Grimm Falls’ finest hopped out of the truck and aimed their hoses at his creation.
