Sabrina
Itrudged through the snow, cursing. How the hell had so much accumulated so close to April? We’d just turned a corner. Now another storm? It had been falling steadily all day, fat flakes dancing in the air.
And now that the wind had picked up and the sun had begun to set, it fell faster and the temperature had turned bitingly cold.
While I was at the library, Mom had handed me a bag of books and a loaf of banana bread and instructed me to drop it off at Marigold’s house. She said she was “under the weather,” but she didn’t meet my eye when she said it.
Though she owned a farm and rented the house and land to Logan, she lived off Market Street in a wildly painted Victorian. The house was large and stately with an enormous door knocker, but the fuchsia and lime green paint softened the grandeur.
It was old money new England mixed with I don’t give a fuck attitude. In short, it oozed pure Marigold energy.
When she opened the door, I almost tripped over my own feet.
She was wrapped in a robe, pale and small, with dark circles under her eyes, her wrinkled cheeks sagging. The sight hit me so hard that I forgot how to speak for a moment.
“Come in. Come in.” As if she’d noticed a draft, she patted her bare head and grimaced. “Shit, forgot my wig.”
I was still stunned. Not because she was bald, but because for the first time, I realized that Marigold was mortal.
“Come on. Get moving,” she said.
Inside, I was met with bright paint, walls of family photos, and several wild pieces of art.
“Let me get my hair,” she said.
“No,” I said sharply. “I’m so sorry to disturb you, but I don’t have to stay. My mom sent these.” I held out the canvas tote bag.
She smiled. “You want a cup of tea? Come sit with me. I’ve been bored and I need to know what’s happening.”
Focus drifting from side to side, I followed her through a grand entryway with a stained-glass window into a massive kitchen. She flipped a kettle on, then turned and gave my hand an assuring pat. “I have cancer, sweetie. But I’m impressed you didn’t realize I was rocking a wig.”
My throat was tight. The small, stooped, frail woman standing in front of me bore no resemblance to the wild ball of stardust that was Marigold Shaw. Aside from her leopard-print cane, of course.
Grief hit me hard and fast, wrapping around me and making it difficult to breathe.
She poured water into fancy china teacups and handed one to me.
“Lemon?” she asked. “My Irish grandmother taught me that milk poisons tea.”
I smiled, shaking my head.
“Come along.” She took her cup and her cane and shuffled through an arched doorway.
“Sit,” she said, gesturing to a sofa in front of an electric fireplace.
“I’m so sorry about what’s happening. Do the TAP girls have everything under control?
Give me a few more days, and I’ll be at full strength again. Then I can help out.”
I gave her a quick recap, explaining that our focus was fixed on getting the town to vote for the proposal, and I filled her in on the fear of losing Woodstock Insurance as a sponsor and how I felt someone was sabotaging us.
“Of course,” she said. “It’s those corporate fuckers. They always do. But you’ve got to keep your chin up.”
I sipped my tea. “What kind of cancer?” I asked over the rim.
“The bad kind. Started as pancreatic, and it’s been downhill since,” she said. “It’s a secret, though. Only a few people know.”
I frowned, confused.
“I want to have fun and go out with a bang. Rather than fielding pitying looks and casseroles, I want to live my final months in peace. And I’ve had so much fun.”
My hand shook, making the teacup rattle against its saucer. Was she saying what I thought she was saying?
“Don’t do that,” she chastised. “I’m ninety-one. I’ve enjoyed a long, healthy life. I’ve had love and adventures and a shitload of fun. It’s my time, sweetie. It happens to all of us.”
I nodded, swallowing the lump in my throat.
She was so calm and accepting. It pissed me off. One by one, the people I loved became photographs on side tables, and she’d just cemented her place along with them.
“Thank you.” She leaned over and patted my hand. “There was one more thing I wanted to do before I left this earth. I wanted to save this town, the place I’ve spent my whole life. Where I was born and grew up and fell in love and have so many beautiful memories.
“We can be a bit stuck in the past, but this isn’t some generic place. The people here?” She sighed. “We’re something special. And now that you’re here, I know things will work out.”
“So that’s why you joined TAP?” I asked.
She nodded. “Bitsy and her gang of naysayers have been driving us straight off a cliff for a decade. And I’ve been having the time of my life with you girls.
Harper’s got me dancing on TikTok and Nina makes me laugh.
I’ve felt more alive these past couple of months than I have in years. And that’s because of you.”
“Me? I haven’t done anything,” I scoffed. “And after the last forty-eight hours, I’m pretty sure I’ve made Maplewood’s situation worse.”
“Nonsense,” she chided. “I see things. Patterns, attitudes changing. You have had a tremendous impact. And your mayor?”
“He’s not my mayor.”
She pinned me with a glare. “Don’t waste my time, dear. I’m dying.”
I held my hands up in surrender and fought back tears.
“The two of you.” Eyes sparkling, she put her fingertips together and kissed them. “Perfection. I only wish I could attend the wedding.”
My heart leaped into my throat.
“Everyone needs a purpose. It’s what makes life worth living. And no, selling your services to the highest bidder is not purpose. What you have here—TAP, the town, Mayor Harding, this baby.” She gestured at my stomach. “That is purpose, kid. Don’t deny it.”
My hand drifted to the tiny swell that reminded me I was carrying a human.
“You’ve been better here. Less uptight. You laugh and smile more. You sleep better and have great friends.”
I stared at her. How did she know all that?
She was right. Somewhere between maple cams, town meetings, and Gabe’s annoyingly handsome face, I’d built a life in Maplewood.
“I don’t know what’s going to happen,” I said softly.
“With Gabe…” I trailed off, my fears choking me.
My life was nothing but one unknown after another.
Usually I could navigate situations like these.
But Gabe and whatever was happening between us?
It was terrifying. Letting myself love him was maybe the biggest risk I’d ever faced.
And bringing a child into this? A child who was wanted and loved but would kick my ass in ways I couldn’t even begin to imagine?
I couldn’t even say it, never mind think it.
“I know what I see. It’s love. The real shit.” Her words landed and burrowed into my chest. To a deep part of me I’d walled off years ago.
“You can deny it all you want, but I know. I was married. Bobby was the love of my life.”
She closed her eyes and smiled. “Damn heart attack took him thirty years ago, and I miss him every day.”
She stood and shuffled over to an end table that was covered in photos.
“Here we are.” She plucked one frame from the surface and turned it so I could see the muted photo it contained. “Young and in love. His parents were horrified that he was marrying a country girl. They wanted more from him. Thought he’d be a legal bigshot in New York.”
She shook her head, reaching for another. “Joke’s on them. He was circuit court judge of Windsor County for twenty-one years.”
“Here we are in college.” This photo was sepia-toned, and Marigold was rocking a full-skirted dress and a fifties curled bob. A tall man stood next to her, grinning from ear to ear.
“You were gorgeous,” I said.
“Yeah. We were at a bonfire up at McManus Ridge,” she said.
My mind could immediately picture it. A young Marigold tossing her red hair and raising hell out in the woods.
“My friend Lucy took this right after Bobby pulled me behind the old sugar shack and told me he wanted to marry me. As soon as he worked up the courage to ask my dad’s permission, of course.”
I studied the photo. The scenery was beautiful, with tall trees, the mountain backdrop, and a small wooden structure that looked a lot like a sugar house. Above the door was an emblem—a carving of a large, ornate M that twisted and turned in knots.
“Where did you say this was?” I asked.
“McManus Ridge.” She sighed, nostalgia washing over her.
“Back in the old days, it was the spot. We all lived up there during sugaring season. That was the sugar shack,” she said, pointing to the building with the gothic-style M on it.
“And on the other side was the collection barn. It was the cold storage for the co-op syrup reserve back when the farmers all worked together. Before the corporations came in and ruined everything.”
My brain snagged as I studied the details of the photo. That M. It looked so familiar. Where had I seen it before?
“Is that in Maplewood?” I asked, still racking my brain.
“Yes. North side of town, off the old north road. The McManus family owned the largest farm in the county for years. A family of four brothers. They’re all dead now, sadly. Terrible what happened to them.” She went on naming names and giving me random details about Will’s ancestors.
But I kept staring. What was that symbol?
“And then it all went to hell. Late nineties, I think?” She shuffled back to her seat.
“Bobby had died and I’d moved into this house.
Upkeep on the farm was too much for me on my own, so I found tenants.
Then I went away for a while. Did some traveling.
Gave myself time to grieve. But while I was away, things got bad.
It was such a shame. The McManus farm was such a joyful place, and the ridge was outfitted with a big fire ring and picnic tables.
Teens used to pitch tents and camp up there.
That syrup co-op was the heartbeat of the town.
People got engaged up there. First kisses, first heartbreaks. ”
She rested the photo in her lap and smiled at me.
“I’m so sorry. I’ve been rambling. You’re so sweet to listen to an old lady.”
“You’re a hell of a lot more than just some old lady,” I said.
She giggled. “But really. I told Laurie to send you over because I need a favor.”
I dipped my chin. “Of course.”
“I was lucky enough to have two wonderful sons,” she said with pride.
“They’ve built lovely lives and families and don’t need anything.
” She sighed. “But I’m particularly fond of my granddaughter.
I spend time with her when I go to the city for treatments.
She’s a sweet girl, but she’s a bit of a mess.
I need to know I can count on you to straighten her out. ”
Confusion washed over me. “I’m not sure what you’re talking about.”
“When she moves here,” she said sweetly.
“Is she moving?” I asked, noting the twinkle in Marigold’s eye.
She clapped once. “Let’s just say I have a hunch. And when she does, please make sure she joins TAP to replace me. She’s got one of those digital jobs no one understands, and she has tons of energy and ideas. She will find her way here. She just needs friends to help her get started.”
“What are you planning?” I asked.
She gave me an innocent smile. “Nothing, dear. And I don’t appreciate what you’re implying.”
I scrutinized her, looking for clues but coming up empty. I didn’t know this woman, but I already felt for her.
“Anyway.” She stood up far faster than I expected based on exhausted she looked. “You should get going. The snow’s picking up, and I’ve got to catch up on my reading. If I don’t finish the book club book, I’ll be the laughingstock at bingo next week.”
Wow. I knew when I was being hustled out, so I stood and collected our teacups, then carried them to the kitchen sink.
Marigold led me to the door, where she threw her arms around me and kissed my cheek.
The woman seemed both impossibly fragile and larger than life all at once. A true dichotomy.
“Please don’t mention my health to anyone. Not even Gabriel. I need to maintain my air of mystery, and we’ve got too much work to do. The last thing I need is people dropping off soup and forcing me to sit at home.”
I opened my mouth to object and then shut it, knowing better than to argue with her.
“Let me live in peace. It’s spring, the sap’s running, and we’ve got shit to accomplish.”
With a salute, I said, “Yes, ma’am.”
She patted my cheek. “You’re a good girl, Sabrina Monroe. Promise me you’ll make the most of the time you have.”
“I’m not sure I know how to do that.” The admission flew out of my mouth before I’d thought it through.
She looked up to the sky. “You’ll figure it out, kid. You always do.”
Strangely, while I stood on her porch with her, it all became clear. I wanted more. More time, more laughter, more adventures. More of this strange, messy life I’d somehow stumbled into.