Epilogue
Four weeks later
By Memorial Day, the wildflowers had taken over Lake’s front lawn. The vibrant colors of May danced in the gentle breeze, creating a patchwork of beauty that stretched as far as the property line. Lake spent hours wandering through her yard, tending to each flower or pulling the ever-present weed. This season gave her a special sense of contentment as she watched the bees flutter from flower to flower, collecting nectar in a harmonious act of springtime. Butterflies gathered, intoxicated by the sweet nectar of the blooms, spreading pollen from one blossom to the other.
Every morning before work, she would step outside with a cup of steaming Vienna coffee and wander through the sea of wildflowers that now enveloped her once neatly trimmed lawn. The colors seemed to dance in the early light, swaying gently with the breeze that carried the sweet scent of fragrant lilies. She would often lose track of time as she meandered through the vibrant tapestry of nature, feeling more grateful than usual.
These days, she couldn’t help but appreciate the beauty that surrounded her. The riot of colors spilled onto the pathway leading to the backyard, where the garden stood in all its glory.
She wandered through the rows of vegetables, admiring the plump tomatoes and vibrant peppers growing under the warm sun. She could almost taste the fresh salsa she would create that first week of June.
As she reached the towering sunflowers at the edge of the garden, a flash of color caught her eye. A lone monarch butterfly flitted gracefully among the patch of marigolds, new this year, but a symbol of transformation, at least for her. Like the butterfly dancing among the blooms, her garden reminded her that beauty could be found in the simplest of places.
That could be said for love.
She looked up to see Linus, bare-chested with sweat running down to his abs, pushing a wheelbarrow from the shed over to the raised beds. The dogs Jack, Scout, and Farley trailed after him like good soldiers on parade.
Who knew that the man of her dreams would love gardening and dogs as much as she did? How lucky could one girl get?
“Are you planning to stand around, or are you gonna help me plant the watermelon and pumpkins?” Linus teased.
“Do you mind? I’m admiring the view. Besides, I did most of the work yesterday. It’s my turn to just watch,” she added with a playful wink.
He grinned. “You did more than watch a few hours ago.”
“One of the perks of a lazy Sunday morning,” Lake fired back as she leaned on the shovel she’d picked up to help.
“And one I wouldn’t trade for the world,” Linus replied, his eyes full of love and mischief. The dogs barked excitedly, running circles around the couple as they worked in harmony under the warm sun.
His gray-green eyes danced with affection as he scooped up some soil and began planting the watermelon seedlings while she dug holes for the pumpkin plants she’d germinated from seeds. The dogs frolicked around them, adding to the cheerful, sunny day.
After getting the plants in the ground, Lake couldn’t help but marvel at how life had changed since Linus had come into it. She used to think that happiness was something reserved for others, never realizing that it was within her reach all along.
Their laughter rang out through the garden, mingling with the symphony of songbirds chirping in the birch tree. For Lake, this was a moment of complete joy, a snapshot in time when everything felt right in the world.
She looked at Linus, his hands caked with dirt and his smile lighting up her soul, and she knew that this was everything she’d ever wanted. Right here, right now. With the earthy scents from the garden lingering in the air, surrounded by the beauty of wildflowers and the promise of a bountiful harvest, Lake couldn’t have been happier.
They hadn’t discussed the future. But that was okay with her because she was in no hurry to commit to more than they had.
Then there was his mother. What could she say about Annette Canfield? The woman had an opinion about everything and loved to share it. Stubborn yet fiercely independent, Annette vowed never to be a burden to anyone. How could Lake find fault with that sentiment when she was much the same way?
Deep in those kinds of thoughts, Lake saw Linus glance toward the gate. She followed the track of his eyes and spotted Cora Bigelow coming around the corner of the house into the backyard. She almost didn’t recognize the postmistress without her blue postal uniform. Instead, Cora wore a button-down dress in buttery yellow.
Linus unfolded from his stance near the ground. “Hey, Ms. Bigelow, what brings you by on a Sunday?”
“Now, Linus, you’re always so formal and polite. How many times do I have to tell you that everybody calls me Cora? And I don’t mind the informality of it one bit.”
“Cora, it is,” Linus said. “Did you come to take a look at Lake’s magnificent garden?”
“Our magnificent garden,” Lake corrected. “He’s put more work into it than I have this year. I know you’re fond of fresh strawberries, Cora. Give me a few weeks and I’ll have all you can eat.”
A sheepish look crossed Cora’s face. “That sounds wonderful. Any time I can stand here and admire such a successful garden, it puts me in awe of anyone possessing a green thumb, which I do not. Sewing has always been my thing. But unfortunately, that’s not why I dropped by.” She cleared her throat. “As postmistress, I’m always embarrassed when we let down our customers.”
Lake frowned. “What do you mean? You haven’t let me down.”
“Oh, but we have. I found this letter addressed to you postmarked two weeks ago. I discovered it quite by accident when my coffee inexplicably spilled behind my workspace, and I had to clean up the mess. I have no idea how your mail ended up wedged between the wall and my desk. Because of the inconvenience, I’m delivering it personally. There’s no excuse for that kind of sloppy sorting and processing. I take pride in running an efficient outfit. As you can see, there’s no return address, so the only thing to do was make sure you received it.”
Lake took the envelope and studied the handwriting but didn’t recognize the scrawl. “I appreciate you going the extra mile. Thank you. I’m not sure who could’ve sent me a letter, usually people just email.”
“Not a problem. I’ve done my due diligence. I needed the walk anyway. And like I said, getting a good look at your garden is a plus.”
“Would you like a tour?” Linus asked.
“I was hoping you’d offer,” Cora admitted with a wink. “I do love growing things, but I kill more than I get to thrive.”
“That was me before I met Lake,” Linus conceded. “But look at us now. We’ve added more raised beds for the basic vegetables and created additional room for pumpkins and watermelons.”
“Why don’t you stay for lunch?” Lake offered, tucking the envelope inside her denim overalls. “I’ll throw together a bacon and egg potato salad served with a soft Italian loaf of bread.”
“Really? That sounds lovely.”
“Then it’s settled. I’ll get started on the food while Linus gives you the grand tour.”
While Linus showed off their hard work, Lake stayed busy in the kitchen. She boiled the red-skinned potatoes and the eggs, cooked the bacon until crispy, and mixed up the sour cream and mayonnaise dressing. She brewed sweet peach tea and cut the bread into thick slices. When all that was done, she set the table on the patio with cloth napkins and what she called her “picnic” plates—an apple-green set of melamine dishes with daisies that looked right out of the 1970s that she used for outdoor eating.
Under the canopy of a bright green umbrella, with a soft fragrant breeze wafting around them, they ate their meal while Cora recounted all her disastrous garden adventures.
“I’m embarrassed to say that I didn’t know most vegetable gardens needed six to eight hours of sunshine. I once spent a fortune on tomatoes and didn’t pay attention to the label. I planted them all in the shade. I bet they didn’t get more than two hours of sun all day long. Caleb certainly took me to task over that one.”
Lake nodded with a chuckle. “My first time planting tomatoes, I expected a bushel basket. What I got was a bowlful of scrawny fruit because I planted them too close together. The simple tomato can be such a thorn in the side of any gardener. Caleb knows that. Any time you need help, just ask. And remember, there are dozens of gardening books in the library that will give you guidelines to follow.”
“I have trouble germinating seeds, too,” Cora confessed. “I just finally gave up on getting anything to grow. Now, I go into Murphy’s Market and plunk down my money like a normal person and buy produce that doesn’t die if I look at it wrong.”
After lingering over their meal for a good hour, Cora stood up and dusted off her dress. “I’ve overstayed my welcome. I tend to do that these days. Anyway, thank you both for the wonderful lunch and tour. I must say, your garden is truly impressive. I’d love to have you both over to my house for dinner next week.”
“We’d love that,” Lake replied with a smile. “What are you doing tomorrow for Memorial Day?”
“I’m going to the parade, of course, but after that, I’m working on a quilt for my sister.”
“Patchwork or embroidered?” Lake asked.
“Patchwork. I love using pieces of old fabric, creating a design of squares or triangles, and turning them into unique quilts. I call them my pieces of art.”
“Could you show me how to quilt someday?”
Cora’s eyes lit up. “I’d be delighted to pass on what I know. You name the date. Set aside a Saturday and we’ll work all day.”
Lake smiled. “Deal.”
Cora bid them farewell and made her way back toward the gate, disappearing around the corner of the house.
Linus turned to Lake, his eyes filled with affection. “That was nice of you to ask her to lunch. I think she might be lonely.”
“We should get her together with your mom.”
Linus raised a brow. “Now, why would we do that? That’s like putting a viper in with a baby kitten. I thought you liked Cora.”
Lake swatted his arm. “Stop saying stuff like that about your mother. Annette’s not a bad person.”
“I didn’t say bad. But you haven’t seen her when she sets her mind on something—like grandkids.”
Lake’s eyes went wide. “Grandchildren?”
“Yep. How many times do you think she’ll bring that up while learning to quilt?” It made him wonder what his life would be like in the future with two women crafting, cooking, and doing stuff together. “My mother is pushy, while Cora seems even-tempered, reasonable, and rather mellow.”
He glanced over at the dogs snoozing at the end of the patio. “Can you believe Derrick tried to poison the dogs with a lethal combination of arsenic, strychnine, and thallium?”
Lake let out a sigh. “I still can’t believe it. Who does that sort of thing? What am I saying? He murdered how many innocent victims?”
“Ten that we’re sure about. Eastlyn says they still haven’t identified the woman found by the surfer fifty yards from where I discovered Gabby. So there’s a possibility of an eleventh victim. Have you opened your mystery letter yet?”
“No. I got busy with lunch and forgot.” She took it out of her pocket and studied it again before ripping the envelope open. “Huh? This appears to be from Scott. What kind of a joke is this? And Cora went out of her way to deliver this?”
“Let me see that,” Linus said, taking the letter and scanning its contents before chuckling. “I don’t think it’s a joke. I’ve heard rumors from staff at the hospital. They’ve either received notes from Scott or their partners have. Some even swear Scott popped in for a visit.”
“He did visit me,” Lake stated. “Remember I told you about it, He was here the night of the storm when the power went out. That’s when I asked him about the women he saved on the bridge.”
A thought occurred to her. She pondered the letter, feeling a mix of confusion and curiosity swirling in her head. She took the letter from Linus and reread it before reading it out loud.
From here on out, your life is a blank canvas. Live every day with a full heart. Do good. Be kind. As you burst from your cocoon into your own beautiful butterfly, be adventurous. It won’t hurt to try new things. But if you insist on exploring everything through books, there’s nothing wrong with that either.
Keep the community at the forefront of everything you do. You no longer need to be afraid of the past. The future is yours for the taking. After more than a century of heartache and pain, there’s peace in knowing Marigold House has finally found its joy. Fill the rooms with love and laughter. Let Linus help you with that. Scott
“He makes it sound like I’m the most boring nerd ever,” Lake grumbled. “Like I never do anything fun or do anything out of my comfort zone. And since when do I not put the community first?”
Linus found that funny. “You’re definitely not a boring introvert. You’re thoughtful and caring.”
“Exactly. So, what does it mean? Why write it at all? I’m certainly not planning to take up skydiving any time soon, not for him or anybody.”
“Scott has a way with words. Maybe he sees something in you that you don’t realize about yourself. I think he’s suggesting you step out of your comfort zone and embrace new experiences. It’s not about jumping out of planes or traveling the world but about taking risks in your own way.”
“You’re my new experience,” Lake said with a grin. “Maybe it’s time to see what life has in store for me outside the pages of my books, romance-wise.”
“We could dance in the moonlight,” Linus suggested, taking her hand. “We haven’t done that yet. Tomorrow night there will be fireworks over the pier—dirty dancing under the fireworks.”
“I like the sound of that.”
With that simple, newfound resolve, Lake tucked the letter back into the pocket of her overalls. Her mind was already racing with things she and Linus could explore together.