twenty-nine.
Marsden debated between making sandwiches and serving take-out chicken for lunch.
Because sandwiches were mostly harmless, without hidden meaning and inferred messages. They were like vanilla ice cream instead of soufflé, completely unassuming. But she would still be making them, and that said a lot. It said that she was happy enough to make food for Jude again.
Well, she hadn’t cooked for him since that first dinner of waffles. After leaving Theola and the café yesterday afternoon and then searching the covert for a few hours, Marsden had had to help Dany prepare the house for the mayor’s arrival. And so Jude had left, deciding he would invite himself to dinner at Owen’s or Karey’s house.
While his parting smirk told her he’d much rather have stayed.
Marsden kept frowning at the contents of the fridge.
But would using takeout be almost too casual? She couldn’t even put in some kind of effort, especially after bragging about her cooking skills with still only waffles to show for it?
“Oh my God, get a grip,” she muttered to herself as she finally reached inside for ingredients. “It’s just a meal.”
She’d already decided on the sandwiches—egg salad, she made amazing ones—when Nina stepped into the kitchen, a flow of pink, from painted fingernails to the blush-toned heels. Even her floral perfume smelled pink.
Marsden looked down at her own outfit of cutoffs and T-shirt, her hair loose and already a bit wild from the heat, and was immediately aware of how sloppy she looked in comparison. As if she didn’t care about herself at all.
Other than Peaches, who brandished her femininity as her favorite accessory, and her mother, who clung to it as though it were her last remaining oxygen tank, it was Nina who constantly reminded Marsden of her own face and body. It made her think again about what she was, what she had on hand, how it had a best-if-used-by date.
Remembering now that Nina had been wanting to talk to her and why, her discomfort gained an edge. It sat in her stomach like a cold, greasy lump and her shoulders tensed. She took a deep breath. She’d promised her mother she would pretend. That she’d become an act at least as good as Shine was. To be better than even Nina.
“Marsden, you’re alone,” Nina said as she walked to the fridge. “I was wondering if Shine was making lunch for you.” She pulled open the door.
The comment was unexpected enough that it left Marsden close to laughing. She didn’t, but her shoulders relaxed a fraction as she shook her head. Was it possible Nina had forgotten? That she’d actually accepted her refusal to become one of her girls? “No, it’s just me.” Her mother had not cooked for her since she was a little girl. She remembered there being a lot of orange—semi-burned grilled cheeses, watery bowlfuls of boxed macaroni, tins of no-name mandarin orange slices steeped in thin syrup.
“That’s right.” Nina shut the fridge, though she’d taken nothing from it. “She was going out with Brom for the afternoon. And where’s Wynn?”
“At a friend’s house. Then the market, with Dany.” Marsden put eggs into a pot to boil. The lump in her stomach melted away—Nina making small talk was convincing her the worst was over. She decided it was as good a time as any to find out if Nina knew anything about Brom’s habits. “So when Shine’s busy, does he just hang out around here?”
“Brom? No, he’s either here with Shine or not at all.” Nina seemed restless as she peered into a cupboard next. “I don’t know where he goes otherwise.”
Marsden frowned to herself, wishing Nina knew about Brom the way she knew about Glory. Wishing she knew more, about what she was doing, and why she was even doing it. She still needed to find out if it was Brom that night at Decks, looking to rob her father, or worse. Because if not him, who? The passage of eight years without fresh clues meant anything was possible, as much as it meant nothing was.
Nina moved to stand next to her at the counter, boxing her in as she reached across to lift the lid of the dessert keeper. Inside was the remaining half of a raspberry crumble Marsden had baked. “Suddenly, I feel like something indulgent. Would you like some?” She reached for a plate from the cupboard and transferred a piece onto it.
“No, thanks.” Marsden added enough water to cover the eggs and slowly placed the pot on the stove. As she watched Nina pick up a fork and take a single bite, the lump in her stomach came back, and her shoulders nearly hurt as they tensed again. Her mother’s boss and keeper—her boss and keeper—did not believe in momentary lapses like eating unnecessary sugar, let alone asking to serve her own kitchen help. She was lingering for a reason, and it wasn’t for raspberry crumble.
She had not forgotten about wanting to talk to her after all.
Nina leaned in close, trapping her against the counter again. And when she spoke next, Marsden’s world splintered apart.
“I know what you do out there in the covert. I know you’re a skimmer.”
The air went thin, Marsden’s throat, dry. “No.”
“Well, yes.” Nina pulled away an inch, slipped another bite of raspberry crumble past her glossy lips. “I’ve been watching you for months, wondering how I could finally convince you to work for me. Then I saw you changing bills at the front desk, hours after you found a body in the covert. Not too difficult to see a pattern once I had all the pieces.”
Marsden thought wildly of the times she’d heard noises in the covert, each time concluding it was animals. Each time thinking she’d gotten away with it, had pulled another one over Hadley and other skimmers. And yesterday, so worried about the town witch.
When all along it’d been Nina she should have been worried about.
“Why are you only telling me now?” She forced the words out, knowing she sounded guilty and unable to help it. “If you’ve known for months?”
“Because now Brom’s in the picture, and Shine’s getting older. And because I found the money you’ve been hiding in your room.” Nina took another bite. “In those old boots of yours.”
Marsden backed up almost reflexively, trying to get away from Nina. Her money. Wynn’s. Their future. “That’s not yours to take,” she strangled out. Her lungs hurt with trying to breathe.
“You owe me,” Nina said. “What’s yours is mine.”
Another bite of crumble.
Marsden hoped desperately Nina would choke on it.
“And if I refuse to work for you, you’re going to tell Hadley about my skimming,” she whispered.
Nina’s mouth formed a moue of displeasure at the head cop’s name, the same one she used to make over Lucy’s glasses. “I think the man is thoroughly incompetent, but yes, I’ll have to. Please don’t get me wrong, Marsden. You’re Shine’s daughter, and I’ve watched you grow up—the last thing I want to do is threaten you with the police, to see you punished. But I had no choice except to take your money. I need you here, working for me. You can even keep skimming if you like, and I won’t say a word.”
Marsden’s pulse boomed in her ears, a destructive rush of despair. Glory turned endless, time winked out, Wynn grew older. “How did you know where to find my money?”
“I didn’t. I didn’t think you had any at all, considering your wages here. But then Shine came and told me you wanted to leave instead of working for me. She said you had money saved up to go. And for me to catch you skimming on top of that? I knew then that you had to be hiding a good amount of cash somewhere.”
Marsden’s eyes burned. Her mother had told Nina. She might as well have given Nina the money herself.
Nina patted the corner of her mouth for crumbs with a slim finger before placing her empty plate in the sink. “I’ll give you a few days before you have to start. Come find me when you’re finally ready. And thank you for the dessert—it was exactly what I needed.”