Cinders

by Cara Malone

  “It has to be,” Marigold said, her tone becoming fiery and passionate. “I can’t stand the idea of letting some anonymous monster ruin an event I’ve been planning for months. It won’t be quite as grand as I originally envisioned, and I want to cry every time I think about how long it’ll take to repair the damage to the garden, but it could have been a lot worse if it wasn’t for you and your crew. Thanks for being so understanding – I must have seemed like a lunatic.”

  Cyn waved away the idea. “Not at all. Just last week I was consoling a hysterical museum director when one of his paintings was burned. Grief makes people react in ways they never predicted.”

  “Grief,” Marigold said with a sad smile. “That’s so appropriate. Did you know this was my mother’s garden? It’s sort of a memorial to her.”

  “Yes, I know,” Cyn said. Most people in Grimm Falls were aware of the history behind the town, and all the elementary school kids had been on a field trip or two to Grimm House. But Cyn had heard it directly from Marigold a decade ago. “You probably don’t remember me, but we hung out at the ice cream parlor a few times when we were kids. My stepmother used to force my stepbrother to bring me with him when he went, and you made it much more enjoyable.”

  Her heart stopped once again as she waited to find out if those details jogged Marigold’s memory at all. She should have left the past in the past – what if Marigold had no clue what she was talking about? Worse, what if she remembered and didn’t care?

  But Marigold smiled and said, “Yes, I remember you. Cynthia Robinson, the enigmatic girl from out of town, who rarely smiled but had an affinity for brightly-colored ice creams, and who, if memory serves, iced me out completely after about three weeks.”

  She was giving Cyn a challenging look – a flirtatious one? – and it left her speechless.

  “I iced you out?” she asked. “You sent my stepbrother to tell me that you didn’t want to be seen with me anymore.”

  Marigold furrowed her brow and asked, “Who’s your stepbrother?”

  “Drew Zeller,” Cyn said. “He was in your grade in school. He said you thought I was annoying and clingy, so I did my best to leave you alone.”

  Mari frowned. “I never said that. I was intrigued by you, maybe even a little intimidated, but definitely not annoyed.”

  Cyn felt the words burning into her chest. I was intrigued by you. The words were hot and tingly, and they made absolutely no sense. For the last ten years, she pined over a girl who wanted nothing to do with her… and it was all based on a lie?

  “You never said that?” she asked, dumbfounded.

  “No,” Marigold said with a frown. “Your stepbrother sounds like a jerk, Cynthia.”

  “He’s complicated,” Cyn said. It was the nicest word she could think of for Drew. “And it’s Cyn, please. Or Cinders, but pretty much the only people who call me that are my work friends.”

  “Fine, then you can call me Mari,” Marigold replied.

  The possibility of spontaneously combusting from all the conflicting thoughts and emotions pin balling around in her head was very real, so Cyn changed the subject. Looking around, she said, “Your poor garden. How are you going to make the event happen?”

  Cyn and her crew had done the best they could to put the fire out quickly, but there was so much devastation. The chairs were soaking wet, half the tables were burned, and apart from the plants that had been consumed by the fire and water, there were quite a few that had been doused in gas and doomed to shrivel up and die over the next couple of days.

  “It’s just going to have to move inside,” Mari said with a sigh. “I was really looking forward to having the party in the garden. It might sound a little crazy, but I thought it would be a nice way to feel like my mother was present. But we’ll use the ballroom and it’ll be okay.”

  “I’m sure it will be beautiful,” Cyn said, feeling a little tongue-tied again. Every time Marigold spoke, she was drawn to her plump lips, the teasing glimpses of her tongue sending little jolts of electric desire through Cyn’s body.

  She hadn’t been this physically near Marigold since they were kids, and she was still struggling to process the possibility that Drew was the only thing standing between them all this time. She knew he’d harbored a crush on Marigold all through school, but was he really so protective of his life pre-Cyn that he would lie to prevent her first friendship in Grimm Falls?

  Probably.

  Cyn realized that she’d been staring into Marigold’s diamond blue eyes too long and she blurted, “I want to help. Put me to work on clean-up duty.”

  Even as she made the offer, part of Cyn’s brain clicked back over to practical matters and she realized she must be overdue to return from her lunch break. She wasn’t about to rescind her offer, though. She was afraid that if she walked away now, she’d never have another excuse to see Marigold.

  “No, you’ve already done more than enough,” Mari said. Cyn’s heart began to sink, but then Marigold’s mouth twitched into a grin as she said, “In fact, you should come to the party. Are you free tonight?”

  “Yes, but-”

  “Good,” Mari said. “It’s the least I could do to thank you for helping save what we could of the garden. Please come.”

  Food was the last thing on Cyn’s mind. Her heart was racing and she was dying to say yes, and yet something held her back. Fear? She’d been wanting to get close to Marigold Grimm for almost half of her life – what if Gus was right and the most likely outcome was heartbreak? Even worse, what if Cyn was reading all the signals right, but when Mari got to know her, she decided Cyn wasn’t good enough for her after all?

  “Marigold?” someone called from the house – a man’s voice that made Mari stand a little taller when she heard it. “What’s going on here?”

  “That’s my father,” she explained to Cyn. “I need to go break the news about the garden. Will you come tonight?”

  “Okay,” Cyn said. She might be terrified, but in the end, there was no way she’d reject an opportunity to get closer to Marigold.

  “Good,” she said. “I look forward to seeing you.”

  Then she surprised Cyn, taking a quick step forward and putting her arms around Cyn’s neck to hug her. That’s when Cyn’s brain short-circuited. She turned her head in the same moment that Mari did, both of them going to the right, and their lips met accidentally.

  For a brief and unbelievable second, every nerve ending in Cyn’s body came alive and she’d never felt anything quite like it. No adrenaline rush, no fire engine siren, no burning building could compare to the soft, faintly honey-flavored kiss that she and Marigold shared.

  And then Mari stepped back with a nervous giggle and Cyn said, “Sorry.”

  “No, I am. I’m a hugger,” Mari said, clearly flustered.

  “Hey, that’s one way to thank someone,” Cyn said.

  She earned another little chuckle from Marigold, and then Mari’s father called her again from the doorway. Mari said, “I’ll see you tonight?”

  “You bet,” Cyn said. Then Mari rushed away and Cyn realized she was still holding the sandwich bag. She wasn’t hungry anymore – maybe James would take them off her hands when she got back to the firehouse.

  She watched Mari duck under the caution tape and head for the house at a brisk pace, then Cyn wandered back to her car with her head in the clouds, completely disinterested in her coffee lest it take away the taste of honey on her lips.

  Ten

  Marigold

  Mari was grateful for the excuse to high-tail it out of that embarrassing moment. Cyn was an attractive woman and Marigold couldn’t deny noticing the way her biceps moved beneath the snug sleeves of her t-shirt, or the way her short, chestnut hair fell seductively over her eyes at times.

  But she wasn’t the type of girl to go around acting on impulse or giving in to her desires, especially when there was so much work to be done and more important things to think about. That kiss had been a confusing, exciting and s
trange accident, and she was happy to put it out of her mind.

  “Hi, Dad,” she said as she joined her father on the terrace just outside the kitchen. She had a sudden urge to hold her arms out in a t-shape, as if she could shield him from the catastrophe behind her. “Did Emily call you?”

  Mari sure hadn’t. If she’d had her way, he would show up tonight at six p.m. in his tuxedo, the event would be set up indoors, and aside from the change in location, he’d have no idea anything happened at all. She could fill him in on the fire and the possible arson after he congratulated her on an event well-executed and handed the reins over to her.

  But here he was, his eyes wide as he looked over her head to all the staff members carrying soggy chairs and half-burned tables out of the garden to be disposed of. “She did – she told me there was a fire early this morning. What happened?”

  Marigold put her hand to her hair. She did her best to run her fingers through it, tucking it neatly into the ribbon that held it back as she explained – some people would call it lying. “It was a small fire, and the fire truck got here quickly to put it out. The tables and chairs are ruined, and so are some of Mom’s flowers. But I’ve already started setting up new tables in the ballroom – your retirement party will go off without a hitch.”

  She was pleased with herself. That sounded like a pretty minor hiccup in the plans, and she hoped to keep steering the conversation away before her father had a chance to dig deeper.

  “If you want to come back inside with me, I’ll show you where your table will be-”

  “Emily told me it was an act of violence,” he said, stopping her in her tracks. Her father could be immovable when he wanted to be – a trait she admired, and one she still hadn’t figured out how to work with. “I believe the word ‘arson’ was used.”

  Mari let out a sigh. Thanks, Em.

  “It was,” she confessed. “I saw a man in the garden when it happened, but he didn’t look familiar. He ran before I could stop him, and I don’t know why he did it.”

  She hated that fact even more than she hated having to adapt the beautiful event she had planned. Uncertainty was not something she readily accepted in any aspect of her life, least of all when it concerned Grimm House.

  “We have to cancel the party,” her father said. “If there’s a criminal running around with unknown motives, we can’t risk another incident with a house full of people.”

  Marigold’s heart sank into her gut. She knew he was only being pragmatic, but she’d been fighting people who wanted to cancel the event since four this morning and she was exhausted. Was that why Emily had called him, to force Marigold to call off the party?

  “No,” she said. “I’ve put too much work into planning this event, and I’ve been busting my butt to do damage control for the last eight hours. There won’t be another incident tonight because the guy chose the middle of the night to set his fire – he obviously doesn’t want to hurt anyone. And if he shows up, we’ll have people from both the police and fire departments in attendance, as well as private security. You deserve your retirement party, Dad.”

  And I deserve my turn at the wheel, she thought, hating how selfish it felt to think about that right now.

  “Okay, princess,” her father said with a resigned sigh. “This is your event, so it’s your call.”

  Then to her surprise, he pulled her into a hug. She couldn’t remember the last time he’d done that – a real hug, and not just a shorthand I love you squeeze of her shoulder. She probably should have been embarrassed – especially because when she looked over her father’s shoulder, she caught Cyn glancing at her on her way to her truck. But instead, she just accepted the hug.

  “I’m so sorry to hear about the garden,” he said. “I don’t care how much it costs, we’ll get the landscapers in here on Monday to replace everything, down to the very last flower.”

  He released her, and it should have been a comforting thought, but instead it made Marigold feel cold to think of a crew of strangers digging up and replanting her mother’s garden. “Thanks, but I think I’d like to start the process myself. Should we go inside and make sure everything’s the way you want it?”

  “Sure,” her father said. As they walked through the kitchen, he looked around dramatically and asked, “And where the hell is Ryan? Why isn’t he helping?”

  “Umm,” Mari hedged, glancing down at the highly-polished floor, “I haven’t told him yet. He’s downtown, dropping in on all the vendors to finalize details and pick up some last-minute table settings.”

  “Oh, now, that’s ridiculous,” her father chastised Mari. “I know you don’t like relying on anyone. You’ve got a stubborn streak a mile wide, but it’s not a sign of weakness to delegate tasks. Besides, he’s a director – he has a right to know what’s going on. Go call him, right now.”

  Marigold swallowed.

  If her father was feeling affectionate earlier, that moment had passed. She hadn’t heard such a booming paternal command since she was in high school and she announced over the dinner table that she intended to enroll at Grimm Falls College so she could help run the estate, rather than apply to the Ivy League schools her father wanted her to attend. Go to your room and finish your Harvard essay right now, young lady.

  Yes, sir.

  “Yes, sir.”

  She left her father in the ballroom, where a more traditional array of round tables was being set up all around the room and slip covers were being put onto chairs at a rapid rate. The clock was ticking and everything was coming together remarkably well… so why did Ryan need to be part of it?

  Mari went out to the foyer and took the grand staircase up to the second floor where her office sat right next to her father’s. She knew he was right – even though she didn’t want to share the estate with him, Ryan deserved to be kept abreast of developments here so he could do his job. And he did it well – it was just that she and Ryan had fundamentally different ideas about the way the estate should be run, and whether history or profit was most important.

  She glanced into her father’s office on her way past. The large, ornate doors were always open – a policy she planned to keep once the room became hers. Everything else about it, though, would have to go. The office was enormous and ostentatiously decorated, with a desk the size of a Cadillac right in the center of it all.

  Marigold planned to keep the desk, a hand-carved piece from Germany that her great-grandfather brought with him when Grimm House was built, but she’d slide it into one corner and use the rest of the large room for meeting space.

  For now, she went into her own office, still large but much more modestly decorated. She hardly spent any time here, but the rest of the house was bustling with activity at the moment and she didn’t want to have this grudging conversation in earshot of her father. She picked up the phone on her desk and dialed Ryan’s number instead of using her cell phone to maintain a professional distance.

  While she waited for him to answer, she stretched the long cord over to the big picture window behind the desk. She hadn’t looked at the garden from above since last night, and at first, she was afraid to see the damage.

  There was a big black patch where everything had been turned to ash and soot, like a meteor had come and obliterated a quarter acre of her beautiful garden. From up here, though, it didn’t look quite so bad as it did up close. There was still plenty of untouched green around it, and that lifted Marigold’s spirits a little.

  “Mari?”

  She clenched her teeth. She wasn’t fond of Ryan using her nickname, and sometimes when he got too familiar, she had to bite back the request to be addressed as Miss Grimm. She stood a little taller and put on a fake smile for the benefit of her empty office, then said, “Hi, Ryan. I just wanted to let you know there was a fire here last night, but I’ve got everything under control-”

  “A fire?” he asked. “What do you mean?”

  Marigold let out a sigh, careful not to let the receiver pick it up, then re
peated the whole thing to him, just like she had explained it to her father. Ryan was angry, especially when she told him it happened over eight hours ago. All in all, the conversation went a lot less smoothly than the one she’d had with her father.

  “You should have told me when it happened,” he said. “I would have come right away and helped you.”

  “Well, I’m telling you now,” Mari said, feeling guilty and petulant all at once. Then she added another little white lie to the stack and said, “There’s been a lot going on this morning and I just didn’t have the time.”

  “You could have asked Emily to call me,” Ryan said.

  “You’re right,” she said. “I’m sorry. Can you please go to the florist’s before you come here and see what she can do about replacing the white tulips that were ruined?”

  “Of course,” Ryan said. “I’m happy to help.”

  “Thank you,” she said, then they hung up. His eagerness to help made her feel guilty for being so determined to shut him out, but she was no less determined to personally see to the success of this event.

  She went to the window again after she replaced the phone receiver in its cradle, and glanced down at the area of the garden where she and Cyn had spoken. Even though it was blackened and horrible, Mari found something to smile about. She put her fingertips to her bottom lip, remembering their accidental kiss.

  Eleven

  Cyn

  Cyn ended up being more than half an hour late returning from her lunch break, and the guys at the firehouse enjoyed ribbing her about her impromptu trip to Grimm House all afternoon. She didn’t mind, though, and she just let them tease her because she had a golden ticket – an invitation to the party and a chance to see Marigold again.