Freddie frowned and turned to Marigold.
“Finn’s always in a good mood when he comes home from the markets, but he’s a little sour now because he had to pay a visit to his fiancee, and she’s dreadful.”
“Freddie!”
His sister took Marigold’s arm and they darted inside.
Finn balled his fists. He wanted to stop Freddie and explain that the only reason she did not like Hestia was because she was the polar opposite of herself. And he wanted to explain this to Marigold, too. He was, oddly, determined that Marigold approve of her.
And while he usually liked to let people hold their secret thoughts to themselves, he found himself curious about Marigold and hoped she would stay long enough to tell her story. He didn’t like to bully anyone for personal information, but since she was just passing through, maybe it wouldn’t be so crass to ask her a few questions.
This morning, she had seemed so unreal to him. Now, she seemed too real: playing outside with his sister, Marigold–the woman who might as well have dropped out of a hole in the sky–she looked at home, almost like she belonged. Though Hestia had spent far more time on his family’s property, Finn feared that she would never feel more at home than Marigold seemed to now, after less than twenty four hours.
Finn followed them into the house, and Rosemary immediately chastised him for the dirt on his face. He ignored her and went upstairs to wash his face from the basin there. Now that his brother, Felix, had moved out, Finn was used to having the top floor to himself. But as he ascended the steps, Finn felt a change. Some fresh disturbance. It was uncanny.
And then, he realized: of course, his sister had put Marigold in the spare bedroom adjacent to his own.
Finn rubbed his forehead and felt annoyed. He went back down the stairs, checked the house to make sure that Marigold was nowhere in sight, and then turned his attention to Rosemary.
“Why on earth did you put her in the room next to mine?” he asked.
Rosemary cocked her heard in dumb imitation of him.
“Why on earth are youangryabout that?”
“I don’t know,” Finn said, “maybe because she’s an unmarried woman and I’m an unmarried man! Won’t she be uncomfortable sleeping right next to me, sharing a bathroom?”
Rosemary calmly put down the knife she was holding.
“First of all, she’s notrightnext to you, in your bed. She’s in a different room. Second of all, she was comfortable enough sleeping on the ground last night, so I assume she will be much more comfortable in a nice bed. Ifyouare uncomfortable, that’s another thing entirely.” Rosemary finished wiping down the kitchen and then looked up at him with piercing eyes.
“Are you uncomfortable?”
“No.”
“Good, now go change.”
Finn marched back up the stairs, shaking his head. It seemed as if, outside of the market, he could get the better of no one.
With his head down, he ran straight into something. Someone. Marigold.
She fell back, her feet sliding into his legs, so that his knees buckled and he had to land with his hands on either side of her, to stop their sledding down the stairs altogether.
Suddenly they were very close.
“I’m sorry,” Finn said, his face inches from hers. “I wasn’t looking.”
“Are you angry?” she whispered. “I heard shouting.”
What was happening to him? This whole day was out of joint. He found himself unable to reply. Unable to breathe. This was not a woman. It was a fish. A mermaid? An apparition. A fairy. A–what’s the word? Siren. How to interact with it? His well-ordered world could not seem to process it.
When Finn wasn’t moving, Marigold at last put her hands on his chest. At first, Finn thought this was an amorous advance, and he wasn’t sure how to respond. He slightly–treacherously–inclined his head toward her, but then he realized just in time–she wasn’t trying to kiss him, she was trying to push him off of her.
“By the way,” she said, as he climbed off of her and she tossed her hair back into place. “I’m not an unmarried woman. I heard you downstairs.” She gave a half-smile.
Finn’s shock was such that it drowned his embarrassment.
“What do you mean?”
