Cinders

by Cara Malone

  Mari, she’d said. You can call me Mari.

  The words – and that kiss – kept running through Cyn’s mind and bringing a smile to her lips. She wanted to tell herself she was being silly, that it was all in her head, and that the spark she felt that morning when Marigold ran up to her and grabbed her arm was imagined. She wanted to tell herself it was all a lie, because there would be no need for bravery in that case.

  But it wasn’t.

  The lie was what Drew had told her when they were kids.

  Cyn had been making friends with Marigold a little more each time they met at the ice cream parlor. Back then, everything in her life was in flux – she was in a new town, living with a new family who didn’t seem to like her much, about to start a new school, and her dad never wanted to talk about her mother’s death, or her life for that matter. But Marigold was a silver lining – one thing that made all the rest bearable.

  Her mom had passed, too, so she could relate to something that no one else in Cyn’s life understood. Plus, she was pretty, smart, and she made Cyn smile when she thought that part of herself had been irrevocably broken.

  That’s why it hurt so much when Drew delivered the news that Marigold didn’t want anything to do with her. Cyn was too young, too clingy, too obviously crushing on her while Marigold had no interest in her.

  Had any of it been true?

  Cyn made a quick pit stop at Green Thumb Nursery after work, then went back to the carriage house to get ready for the party. The evening seemed to stretch on forever – a limbo state in which Marigold Grimm both was and wasn’t returning her interest after all these years of yearning. Cyn got dressed, selecting a crisp black suit with a white button-up shirt. She considered a tie, but then she left the top two buttons open as Samantha’s voice began unexpectedly swimming around her head.

  You should wear the gold chain from two Christmases ago, Cyn could hear her, clear as if she was looking over her shoulder. Just a little bling to make you stand out.

  Right, like a bird plumping its feathers for a mating dance, Cyn thought, but then she went over to her jewelry box and took out the gold chain she’d been thinking of. Girls like Marigold do like a little sparkle. She lay the gold chain over her crisp, white collar, then she slipped her feet into a pair of Italian leather loafers – one of the few items from Samantha’s boutique that Cyn had received as a gift and actually drooled over beforehand. She didn’t have many occasions to wear them, but she always kept them immaculately polished and tucked safely at the back of her closet.

  She walked back over to the mirror for one last check, slipping and sliding along the way. The soles of her loafers were so unmarred with use that she had to take a minute to get her bearings whenever she wore them.

  I’ll bring a pair of sneakers just in case, she thought. Then, satisfied that she looked as good as she was going to get, she headed out the door.

  Cyn was filled with nervous energy by the time she arrived at Grimm House a little past eight o’clock, with the potted plant she’d picked up at Green Thumb tucked under her arm. It was a silly gesture – who brought anything but cut flowers to a woman like Marigold Grimm?

  She was feeling self-conscious about the plant as she walked into the house, stepping carefully so as not to slip in her loafers. She was truly a fish out of water as she looked around at the people in tuxedos and ball gowns standing in clusters, chatting and drinking from expensive champagne flutes. Cyn wondered whether Mari had actually meant to extend an invitation to her, or if it had merely been politeness that made her ask.

  She was here now, though. The fingers of her free hand went reflexively to the gold chain on her neck as she headed for the ballroom to the right of the grand staircase.

  The ballroom was very large, with ceilings at least twenty feet high and intricate woodwork all around. There were about two dozen round tables scattered around the room, with perfectly crisp, white tablecloths and meticulous place settings. Each one was an elegant pop of gold, with crystal water goblets and tangerine-colored tulips tucked into the cloth napkins.

  There was a bar at one end of the room, where a number of guests had gathered to sip cocktails, and a string quartet played softly in front of an as-yet empty dance floor. Cyn craned her neck to look for Marigold, but there were at least a hundred people in the room. She looked for Drew – any familiar face would be welcome – and when her eye caught Detective Holt’s, she was grateful as he waved her over to his table.

  “Robinson,” he said with a surprised smile. “What are you doing here?”

  “Marigold Grimm asked me to come,” she said, and it sounded even more improbable out loud. Maybe it had just been a polite invitation, and Mari would be even more surprised to see her than Holt was. “I responded to the fire this morning and made sure my guys didn’t do any more damage to the garden than we had to.”

  “Well, we have an extra chair - you should join us,” Holt said, putting his arm around a pretty woman in a black velvet slip dress. “This is my wife, Donna. Frank’s around here somewhere, and the police chief. Have a seat.”

  Cyn nodded. Frank was the fire chief, and she’d met the police chief a few times as well. If nothing else came of tonight, a little elbow-rubbing with her superiors wouldn’t be such a bad thing. She shook Donna’s hand, a little too rough because she was used to having to hold her own against the guys at the firehouse. Then she sat down and a waiter came around to fill her water goblet.

  “What are you drinking?” Holt asked, nodding toward the bar.

  “Oh, I don’t drink,” Cyn said. Holt arched an eyebrow, so she added, “Bad experience as a teenager – it really put me off the stuff.”

  “To each his own,” Holt said, tipping back a glass of dark amber liquor. Then he spotted the plant – delicate bluebells that reminded Cyn of Marigold’s eyes – and asked, “What’s up with the plant?”

  “Umm, it’s a hostess gift,” Cyn said, fighting off the urge to blush. She took the pot off the table and tucked it carefully beneath her chair, then just to change the conversation, she asked, “Have you made any progress in the arson case?”

  “Since this morning?” he snorted. “Nope.”

  “What about the other incidents? The painting and the barn?” she pressed.

  “Cinders,” she heard a familiar voice chastising her. “Did you come all the way out here to bug Holt about a work matter?”

  She turned to see Frank, her boss. He was holding a stein of frothy beer, and the police chief and both of their wives stood beside him. Cyn shook her head, color rising into her cheeks. “No, I’m sorry. Marigold invited me.”

  “No need to apologize,” he said as he pulled out a chair for his wife, then threw Cyn a wink. “But if you’re going to pull off a feat like that, then try to enjoy your night off. Relax and quit talking about fires.”

  “Yes, sir,” she said.

  She settled into a slightly fidgety silence, running her thumb over the uneven surface of her crystal goblet while her superiors remarked on the quality of the bourbon and their wives chatted in a way that made it clear they were old friends. They’d probably been coming to events like this for years.

  Cyn didn’t have to sit with her discomfort for long, though. She noticed Marigold the moment she walked into the ballroom, and everything else dulled in comparison.

  She was wearing a blush pink, full-length gown with tulle that accentuated the curve of her hips. She was absolutely striking in white satin gloves that came up to her elbows and a thin satin choker around her delicate neck. Cyn didn’t think she was imagining it when it seemed like every head in the room turned toward Marigold, and she could have stolen the show if she’d walked into the ballroom in a burlap sack.

  Or a singed silk nightgown, Cyn thought with a quick smile.

  “She’s something else, isn’t she?” Frank said when he noticed the direction of her gaze. He laughed and turned to his wife as he added, “I’m surprised she’s not wearing a tiara. They already
call her Grimm Falls royalty, and she seems to like the title.”

  Cyn listened quietly while her table talked about how unapproachable Marigold Grimm was, all the while her eyes tracked her as she glided across the room, smiling a little too intentionally and saying hello to all the most important people. Cyn would have said the same about her before this morning – detached, elitist, aloof – but now she was beginning to think it was all an act.

  “I’m going to say hello,” she announced. “I want to thank her for the invitation.”

  Frank just raised his eyebrow at her, then turned his attention back to the police chief.

  Cyn found Drew on her way to Marigold. He was standing at the entrance to the ballroom and when she saw him, she made a quick detour to say hello – mostly because she hadn’t yet built up the courage to talk to Mari.

  “Drew,” she said, catching his attention. “How’s the security detail going? Any sign of trouble?”

  “No,” he said. “Just a lot of rich people eating caviar. The real question is what the hell are you doing here?”

  “Marigold invited me,” Cyn said.

  Drew looked unimpressed with the invitation, then nodded at the plant under her arm. “What’s that?”

  “They’re bluebells,” Cyn explained. “A hostess gift.”

  “Geez, you still have a crush on Marigold Grimm after all these years, don’t you?” Drew asked. “You know a plant in a plastic pot isn’t going to impress her, right?”

  He gestured at the opulence surrounding them and she figured he was right about that, but she hoped Mari would appreciate the meaning behind the gift. She shifted them to her other arm and said, “Speaking of Marigold, I had a very interesting conversation with her this afternoon. She said she never asked you to tell me to back off when we were kids. Why would you lie about something like that?”

  Drew narrowed his eyes at her, then said, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “When I first moved to Grimm Falls,” Cyn insisted, “I met Marigold at the ice cream parlor and after a couple of weeks, you said that she didn’t want me around anymore and I should leave her alone. Drew, she was the only friend I had at the time and you drove a wedge between us.”

  “No, sorry,” Drew said flippantly. “I don’t remember that.”

  “I don’t believe you.”

  “Here comes your girlfriend,” Drew said, cutting Cyn off. He nodded over her shoulder and she turned around to see Marigold weaving her way through the crowd. She wasn’t aiming for Cyn – more like circulating near her – but when Cyn turned around again, Drew had slipped into the crowd.

  Cyn took a deep breath, then went to say hello to Marigold. She caught up with her just as Mari was plucking an hors d’oeuvre off a circulating waiter’s shiny silver platter.

  “Hi,” Cyn said as she watched a juicy, bacon-wrapped fig disappear into Marigold’s mouth. I want to be that fig, one half of her brain thought while the other scrambled to remember how to form words. “Umm, well it looks like you pulled it off. The ballroom looks beautiful.”

  “The tulips are tangerine instead of white, and the garden would have been such a pretty backdrop, but it all came together in the end,” Mari said with a smile, those diamond blue eyes burning into Cyn’s. “Did you doubt me?”

  “No,” Cyn said. “Not for a second.”

  “Thank you,” Marigold said. Her eyes swept discretely over Cyn’s clothes, settling on the gold chain at her neck. Cyn’s heart was already in her throat, and it only climbed higher as Mari reached for the chain. She adjusted it – it had gotten tangled in Cyn’s collar – and then her gloved hand lingered on Cyn’s chest for just a second as she said, “You clean up well, Miss Firefighter.”

  “Did you doubt me?” Cyn asked, raising an eyebrow and daring to flirt. Now that she was standing in front of Marigold, every doubt that she’d had melted away. There was chemistry between them, and it was strong.

  Mari laughed and averted her eyes, landing on the bluebells under Cyn’s arm. “What’s that?”

  “Oh,” Cyn said, presenting them to her, “they’re for you. I know cut flowers are more traditional, but I figured if you like them, you could plant them in the garden after the event. That way, maybe it’ll feel like your mom’s at the party with you after all?”

  Every time she started to say something, Marigold had a way of making her second-guess herself. Was that the dumbest idea she’d ever come up with? She’d thought it was perfect when she was standing inside Green Thumb Nursery, thinking about what Mari had said about the significance of her garden, but now she wasn’t sure. Marigold was just staring at her.

  Then her eyebrows turned up, wrinkling in the most adorable way.

  “That is the most thoughtful thing anyone’s ever done for me,” she said, taking the little plastic pot and throwing her arms around Cyn’s neck. She was careful to keep her head turned this time – as much as she wanted to feel Marigold’s lips on hers again, the middle of the crowded ballroom was hardly the place. Mari let her go, then inspected the plant. “These bluebells are going to be beautiful in the garden. Thank you so much.”

  Cyn stood a little taller, trying not to grin like an idiot. “You’re welcome.”

  Mari looked toward the front of the room, where a podium had been set up to the left of the quartet. She checked the time on a delicate silver watch that hung over her long gloves, then said, “I’m really glad you came. I’ve got hostess duties to attend to, but I’d love to have a drink with you at some point tonight.”

  “How about a dance instead?” Cyn asked.

  Mari looked sheepishly around the room. All of Grimm Falls’ elite were here tonight, as well as major players from the local government. Was it asking too much to dance with Marigold in front of them all? Cyn held her breath, hoping she hadn’t just screwed up her one and only opportunity to get to know Marigold Grimm.

  “Unless you have a date who might object,” she added quickly. “I didn’t mean to be presumptuous.”

  “No, there’s no date,” Mari said. “I always go stag to these things – you’re not the only one with fires to put out, but mine are thankfully the metaphorical type.” She glanced at the clock again, then said, “I need to make my introductions and bring out the main course. Why don’t you enjoy your meal, then I’ll find you and we’ll see about that dance?”

  Those light blue eyes were even more vibrant and lovely than Cyn had remembered. She kept falling into them and losing her place in the conversation. She spoke with more confidence than she felt as she shot Mari a smile and said, “I’m looking forward to it.”

  She watched as Marigold picked her way to the front of the room, the volume of her dress making it look like she floated her way to the podium. Cyn headed back to the table with her boss and Detective Holt, and as she slid into her seat, Frank shot her an intrigued look. There would be questions at the firehouse tomorrow – probably a lot of them – but that was a small price to pay for this incredible evening.

  Marigold set the bluebells carefully on the podium, then she found Cyn in the audience, their eyes locking for an instant. Then Marigold was in full-on hostess mode. She switched on a small microphone and welcomed everyone to her father’s retirement party, then brought out the guest of honor to sit at a special table at the front of the room with her and a few other Grimm House staff members. Finally, she signaled a small army of waiters to come out of the kitchen with entrées stacked expertly on their arms.

  Cyn enjoyed the best chicken paprikash she’d ever eaten and was doing her best to contribute to the conversation at her table even though she felt a little out of her depth. She tried not to look too often toward the front table, where Marigold sat primly, the tulle of her dress pluming up around her. Cyn watched as she took dainty bites of her chicken, alternating with sips of white wine. Everything Marigold did was so intentional, so practiced. Even the way she smiled looked rehearsed, and Cyn was dying to find out what lay beneath that perfect v
eneer.

  Twelve

  Marigold

  Mari lost track of Cyn for a while. Sitting next to her father during dinner, with Ryan on her other side, she got absorbed in her thoughts about what her father might say when it was time for his speech at the end of the evening.

  It was true that the party turned out just as well as she hoped, even with the not-so-little snag in her plans. And it was also true that she’d been managing various aspects of the estate since high school. But her father seemed bound and determined to saddle her with Ryan in the misguided belief that a business partner would make her life easier, or better somehow.

  After the meal, Marigold was pulled into the kitchen to deal with a few questions the caterer had about the timing of dessert, and then she had several lengthy and painfully dry conversations with her father’s favorite business associates.

  By the time she found a moment to break away and ask Cyn for that dance, the sizzling firefighter in the sharp black suit was nowhere to be found.

  Did she leave?

  Mari asked around, and when she found the fire chief at the bar with his wife, he pointed her into the foyer, saying, “I saw her heading for the door about a minute ago. Maybe she went out for some air.”

  Marigold walked briskly, unwilling to let tonight be another missed connection. She liked Cyn when they were kids – Cyn was a little too young for anything real to develop between them at the time, and then when she abruptly stopped talking to Marigold, she assumed it was for the same reason everyone else in Grimm Falls kept their distance from her. She was not ignorant of her nickname – Grimm Falls royalty.

  But apparently that wasn’t what had driven them apart all those years ago, and she wanted to know more.

  Mari’s heels clicked on the marble floor in the foyer. She probably hadn’t sat down for more than an hour out of all her waking time in the last seventy-two hours – not counting the meal she’d just eaten, which came not a minute too soon. Still, she couldn’t wait to get out of these heels at the end of the night – maybe even kick back and truly enjoy herself after her father’s retirement announcement.