Chapter 19 #2
"But all that planning for the festival—it must be overwhelming.
I heard it's quite the production." Daisy looked at him and batted her eyes.
"You must be a godsend to her. Taking on all the heavy lifting while she handles the pretty details.
" She laughed. "Sorry, no offense meant, darling.
It's just that we all have our strengths.
Mari has never been one for the big picture, you know. "
"I think she handles the big picture perfectly well." He kept his voice level. "In fact, if it weren't for her organizational skills and attention to detail, the festival would be a complete disaster. She's the one who's saved it."
Marigold looked up at him then, her eyes wide and vulnerable.
Daisy waved a dismissive hand. "Oh, I'm sure she's very capable. But a woman needs someone to handle the more challenging aspects of life. Someone strong. Grounded. Someone who can be relied upon."
She batted her eyes at him again, her gaze appreciative. Did she even realize she was flirting with her daughter's boyfriend?
"So what else does this festival involve?" Daisy asked. "It sounds exhausting."
"It's mainly the logistics," he said. "And the opening ceremony."
"We're dancing together," Marigold said quietly.
"Oh, Mari." Daisy set down her fork with a clatter. "Dancing? In public? Are you sure that's wise?"
"Why wouldn't it be?"
"Well, darling, you know you've never been very…
" Daisy gestured vaguely. "Coordinated. Do you remember that recital when you were eight?
The one where you tripped and knocked over three other girls like dominoes?
The instructor was furious. Mrs. Pemberton—no, wait, Mrs. Patterson?
Something with a P—she said you had 'two left feet and no sense of rhythm. ' I've never forgotten that."
Marigold's hand tightened around his. "That was eighteen years ago."
"Well, some things don't change, do they? I just don't want you to embarrass yourself, baby. In front of the whole town. After you've worked so hard to build your little business here."
"She won't embarrass herself," he said, his voice hard.
Daisy's eyes widened. "I'm only being realistic. A mother's job is to protect her children from disappointment. Better to know your limitations than to overreach and fail publicly, don't you think?"
"She isn't going to fail. She's an excellent dancer."
"Really? That's sweet. But you haven't seen her in pressure situations. She freezes, Thallos. Always has. There was this one time, at her high school graduation—"
"Mom, please—"
"—they asked her to give a speech because she was valedictorian. I was so proud, but then she got up on that stage and just… stood there. Staring at everyone like a deer caught in headlights. For thirty seconds. The whole audience was squirming. I was so mortified for her."
"I was nervous—"
"You were terrified," Daisy corrected. "And that's my point.
Some people shine under pressure, and some people crumble.
It's not a character flaw, sweetheart, it's just…
who you are." She reached across the table and patted Marigold's arm.
"I'm sure Thallos will be very understanding when you panic during the dance. Won't you, Thallos?"
The words hit like small, precise knives. He watched Marigold absorb each one, her face growing paler, her shoulders curling inward. The woman who had laughed in his arms last night, who had looked at him like he was something worth choosing, was disappearing piece by piece.
And Daisy kept going.
"Of course, Marigold's never been comfortable being the center of attention. Even as a child. She'd hide behind me at parties—which was adorable, obviously, but also rather telling. I used to worry she'd never come out of her shell. Still do, honestly."
"Marigold," he said, turning fully toward her, deliberately turning his back on Daisy, "I've been meaning to tell you how impressed I am with the vendor spreadsheet you created.
The color-coding system you implemented has saved us hours of work.
And your attention to the acoustics at the stage—most people wouldn't even have considered that. "
A flush was creeping up Marigold's neck, but her eyes were bright. "It was nothing. Just—"
"It was brilliant. Everyone on the committee has mentioned how much more organized we are this year compared to last." He took her hand again, this time bringing it to his lips for a brief kiss. "I don't know what I would have done without you."
Daisy made a small, dismissive sound. "Well, isn't that sweet."
The wine arrived then, and he poured them each a glass. When he looked up, Daisy was watching him with an expression he couldn't quite read. Something assessing. Something almost… predatory.
"You know," she said, reaching across the table to touch his arm, "I've always believed that a relationship should be based on honesty.
No secrets. I told Marigold that when she was a teenager, but she never listened.
Kids today." Her fingers lingered, tracing the muscle beneath his shirt.
"I'm so glad to see that you understand the importance of openness. "
Marigold's hand tightened on his. "Mom, what are you—"
"I'm just making conversation, darling." But Daisy's eyes were fixed on him, the blue suddenly sharp and calculating. "I'm sure Thallos doesn't mind. Do you, Thallos? I mean, you don't have any secrets from my daughter, do you?"
The shift in the air was immediate. Electric. Dangerous.
He removed her hand from his arm gently but firmly. "My relationship with Marigold is exactly what it appears to be."
"Is it?" Daisy's smile didn't waver, but something in her eyes hardened. "You don't have any… hidden complications? No exes lurking in the shadows? No financial difficulties? I only ask because Marigold has always had such terrible luck with men. I would hate to see her hurt again."
"Again?" The word came out sharper than he intended. "What do you mean, again?"
"Oh, you didn't know." Daisy pressed a hand to her heart in mock sympathy. "Poor thing, always falling for the wrong men. That boy in high school—what was his name, darling? The one who took your virginity and then told everyone in school?"
Marigold made a sound of protest, but her mother plowed on.
"And then there was that college boyfriend—Simon, wasn't it? Stole her credit card and ran up thousands in debt. It took me months to sort that mess out."
"That's enough, Mom." Marigold's voice was shaking. "That has nothing to do with—"
"And of course there was her fiancé. Remember him, sweetie?
The one who called off the wedding two weeks before the big day?
Broke her heart so badly she swore off men entirely.
" Daisy looked at Thallos with manufactured concern.
"I just don't want to see that happen again.
A girl like Marigold—so sensitive, so trusting—she needs someone stable. Someone with no complications."
The room had gone silent around them. Other diners were pretending not to listen, but the tension was palpable. Marigold was pale, her eyes wide and wounded. This was what her mother had done to her. This casual cruelty disguised as concern. This systematic dismantling of her confidence.
"That's enough."
The words came out low and sharp, cutting through Daisy's monologue like a blade. The table fell silent. Even the ambient noise of the restaurant seemed to dim.
Daisy's smile flickered. "Excuse me?"
"I said that's enough." He set down his napkin deliberately, fighting to keep his voice level.
"I've listened to you insult your daughter for the past hour.
Her coordination. Her career. Her personality.
Her boyfriends, for gods' sake. And she's sat here and taken it because that's what you've trained her to do.
But I'm not trained, and I won't sit here while you tear her apart piece by piece. "
"I wasn't—"
"You were." He stood, his chair scraping against the floor. "Marigold is extraordinary. She's built a successful business from nothing. She's earned the respect of this entire town. She's kind and brave and stronger than anyone gives her credit for—especially you."
Daisy's eyes had gone wide and wounded. "I think you're overreacting—"
"And her dancing is beautiful," he continued, his voice rising.
"I know because I've taught her. Because I've watched her learn and grow and push past every limitation she was told she had.
She doesn't freeze. She doesn't crumble.
She rises. And if you can't see that—if all you can see are her failures instead of her triumphs—then you don't deserve to be here. "
The restaurant had gone quiet. Coraline stood frozen by the hostess stand. Pippa had paused mid-step, a tray balanced on her palm. Every eye in the room was fixed on their table.
He didn't care.
"Marigold," he said, gentler now, looking down at her. Her eyes were wide, shocked, something fragile and wondering flickering in their green depths. "You don't have to stay for this. You never have to stay for this."
Then he turned and walked out.
The door swung shut behind him. The evening air hit his face, cool and sweet with the scent of summer flowers. His pulse was pounding, his hands shaking with the aftermath of rage barely contained.
He'd made a scene. In the middle of the Moonlit Spoon. In front of half the town.
He couldn't bring himself to regret it.