“If you refuse to have an open mind, it will only be hurting the one person who you seem to actually care about.”
There is a long, heavy pause. August nudges Lottie, who is now staring at the kitchen with a look of bewilderment. She steps away from August’s side and walks to the window, where the sun reaches through to touch her face. Her bright red curls bring out the green hues of her eyes that seem to glitter in the light. From the first shelf, she picks up a jar labeledLAUGHING SPELLand rolls her eyes again. Marigold knows that Lottie believes none of it and that she has no intentions of changing her mind, but at the very least, Lottie seems like she wants to support August. If anything, it appears as if she would go against her own gut in order to make August happy.
“I’m thinking,” Lottie mutters.
August and Marigold both freeze, afraid that any sudden movement from either of them could be what startles Lottie into running away. But she does not run. Instead, she ponders.
“I suppose there is no harm in it,” Lottie mutters as she paces around the cottage, again finding herself standing before the sunny window. Marigold comes to her side, and for a moment, they are both lost in the peace of wild things. The misty air weaves itself through the green branches that stretch into the blue expanse above. Heavy fruit hangs from the trees, begging to burst beneath the slightest touch. The surface of the lake shines like diamonds and sapphires.
“Beautiful, isn’t it? And there is so much more to see. So much that I can show you if you let me,” Marigold says as she rests her palms on the corners of the windowsill and takes a deep breath of sun-warm air.
“It’s nice,” Lottie replies in a soft whisper that seems to catch her by surprise.
“Let’s do it, Lots,” August says. “I mean, why not? Marigold, it looks like you have the room and could use the company. And, Lottie… Well, we don’t have anything better to do. As you said, what’s the harm?”
His words are like an answered prayer. Marigold once thought that all she would ever require for happiness would be to fit in somewhere, to be part of something bigger and better than herself. But now that she has that, it is not enough. It may be the case that all she needs—perhaps all she ever needed—are a few good people who will not leave. That will be enough. It has to be enough.
Chapter Fourteen
For the first time since her grandmother’s passing, Marigold will not only have customers and Mr. Benny as company, but actual friends staying with her. Well, one friend and one disgruntled guest. They will dine with her during every meal. Walk with her throughout the isle, tending to the wild things around them. She readies the first guest bedroom for August and brings Lottie to the other, which is also her grandmother’s old room. She stands before the door, her hand heavy on the handle, but she cannot bring herself to let Lottie into this sacred space until she turns and sees Lottie glaring back at her. Her smile is cold and taunting, like she cannot wait to watch Marigold fail.
That right there, that wickedI-know-everythingsmirk, is the reason she must push forward. A life of being doubted has prepared her for this, and proving this woman wrong will heal decades’ worth of insecurity.
So, she smiles back at Lottie—a fake smile with her nose extra scrunched for good measure. She walks into the room and pulls blankets out of the trunk at the foot of the bed to make everything extra comfortable out of spite.
Lottie clears her throat. “May I have a private word with you?” She looks around the room for the first time, taking in what is likely the largest bounty of books she has ever seen.
“Of course,” Marigold says, worried that Lottie is about to eviscerate her with words. Lottie seems too distracted byreading the titles of the books to recall what she wanted to speak about. She runs soft fingers across the aged leather, touching the embossed lettering on the spines.
“Lottie?”
“Right. Sorry,” she says, pulling herself away from the books. “To be completely honest with you, I simply will not believe in any of this, and I don’t intend on changing my mind, but I would do anything for August. We’ll play your games while you make the spell. We’ll watch you splash around with your silly moon water. But at the end of this, I need you to give him the spell no matter what, and you don’t have to worry about me ever bothering you again. Deal?”
A low laugh hums in the back of Marigold’s throat. “You will see that it is real. I have no doubts.”
Lottie places her hand on her hip. “You are genuinely claiming that you will magically lead him to his soulmate?”
“Yes,” she snaps back at the impossible girl before her. Why must Lottie be so obstinate and distrustful? The glares between them are unyielding and sharp—neither one of them is willing to release the other from eye contact.
“You are mad,” Lottie finally says. “But it would break August’s heart if you let him down, so you better put on a good show. For his sake.”
“A show?” she says, insulted almost beyond words. “You think I do this for someone else’s entertainment? I stay here, completely alone almost all of the time, with no one to entertain but myself.”
“Except when your so-called customers come to sing your infinite praises and spend their hard-earned coin on mythcraft.”
Marigold steps forward, her finger pointing at Lottie’s heart. “How dare you. I’ll have you know that I take no money from anyone. I help everyone who asks.”
Lottie leans in closer so that their faces are mere centimeters apart. “You’re not helping anyone by giving them false hope.”
She pushes back, her chest nearly touching Lottie’s. “Nothing about what I do is false. I come from a long line of witches whohave given all that they are and all that they have to this work. You have no idea the sacrifices that I must make to live this life.” She accidentally bites her tongue on the last word—that’s how mad she is. Through gritted teeth, she says, “But I do it because I have a legacy to fulfill, a family to make proud. I actually help people. You might want to try it sometime,” she says as she storms out of the room. August is standing awkwardly in the kitchen after obviously hearing bits and pieces of their exchange. She stands before him, her eyes wide and angry, her fingers and toes tingling with adrenaline.
“What is wrong with her?” she says, her voice mixed with a growl. Her mouth tastes of blood.
“I know,” August says. “She’s such a skeptic.”
“I understand that, but she needn’t be so rude about it.”
He sighs. “I know it is hard to believe, but underneath that hard exterior, Lottie is a wonderful person with an enormous heart. She is simply very slow to trust others. If you knew all that she has been through, you’d understand. Be patient, and one day, she might let you in.”
