Chapter Ten Marigold
“I can’t believe you’re here,” Hugo said, still staring agape from the doorway of his cottage. “I didn’t think I’d ever see you again.”
“Neither did I. But it turns out we’re still married.” The words flew out before Marigold could stop them. So much for easing into this conversation.
“What are you talking about?”
“Our divorce was never finalized,” she said, heat rising to her cheeks. “I forgot to return the signed documents.”
He stared at her, waiting for her to continue, then said, “And you came up here because…”
“Because I’m getting married and need to sort out the paperwork again.”
“You’re getting married,” he repeated, sounding slightly dazed. “When?”
“Tomorrow.”
“Tomorrow?”
“My lawyer said we have to sign the new set of divorce papers he emailed me and have them notarized so I can get my marriage license in time for my wedding tomorrow. I just flew from Maine.”
“Oh, wow…” Hugo leaned against the doorframe and sighed. “Are you serious?”
“Yeah, I’m sorry. I know it’s really shitty for me to show up like this. I did try calling, though. I wasn’t trying to blindside you.”
“I didn’t have any missed calls from you.”
“I called! Multiple times! I swear!” Marigold opened her call log. “Look!”
Hugo peered at her screen, then pulled out his own phone. “Oh… I thought that was a spam call.”
“You erased my number?”
Hugo straightened up and looked her in the eye. “Yep, about six months after you ghosted. After you ignored every call and every text.”
“I’m sorry, I—oof!” Something large and gray barreled into her, nearly knocking her over as it licked her face, whimpering with excitement. “Hi there… Hi…” Marigold said, scratching the enormous dog’s side as she tried to regain her balance.
“I guess he remembers you,” Hugo said in a voice she couldn’t quite read.
“Humphrey?!” she exclaimed. The sound of his name sent the dog into a frenzy as he tried to lick her cheek, wag his long tail, and roll on the ground all at the same time, his ecstasies too great to be expressed through one movement alone.
“Hi, buddy!” Marigold crouched down to scratch the dog’s proffered belly.
“So good to see you, boy. Aren’t you the best boy? Aren’t you, Humphrey?”
“I don’t think he expected to see you again either.”
Marigold winced as she rose to her feet. “I know… I handled that badly. It just seemed best to make a clean break, you know? Once I realized what a mistake we’d made.”
Something flashed in Hugo’s eyes before his face went blank. He opened the door wider and nudged Humphrey back into the house. “Okay, come in and we’ll figure this out.”
Marigold followed him inside, eyes widening as she took in the scene. The mess and clutter were all gone—everything was homey and pristine, from the folded blanket draped over the couch to the tidy bookshelves to the fresh flowers on the dining table. “Whoa… Did you get a housekeeper?”
“A housekeeper?” Hugo snorted. “That’s not really how she goes around here.”
Marigold fell silent as she looked around the room, struck by the uncanny strangeness of it all.
Returning to a place she’d been certain she’d never see again.
A place that’d once felt like home. “Have a seat,” he said, then shook his head slightly as if struck by the strangeness of treating her like a guest.
“Thanks.” Marigold sat on the couch—the same saggy floral one she remembered, except the cushions had been washed and she no longer had to wedge herself in between the piles of laundry that had seemed to be a permanent fixture of the room.
Humphrey sprang up next to her, still wriggling and whimpering with excitement.
He was too big to fit onto her lap, so he contented himself with placing his enormous paws on her thighs while his tail thumped madly.
“Hi, buddy. I missed you. Did you know that? Did you know how much I missed you?” She scratched his head and he began to lick her cheek.
“Okay… okay,” Marigold said, laughing. “I know, you missed me too. How ya doing, friend? Whatcha been up to?” She wished she spoke dog so Humphrey could tell her everything she’d missed, what had precipitated all these changes.
The most obvious explanation was a girlfriend, or maybe even a wife.
Surely Hugo wouldn’t have bought flowers, let alone a vase.
And who had cleaned the ship-in-a-bottle on the mantel?
It’d been Marigold’s favorite piece in the whole house, but it’d been almost too dusty to view properly during her brief tenure.
“So,” Hugo said, still standing. “You’re really getting married tomorrow?”
“That’s the plan.”
“Christ.” He scratched his head. “Okay, I know the notary in town. He can print the forms for us and then witness us sign.”
“Great. Then I’ll send them to my lawyer, and we should be all set.”
Hugo grabbed his keys off a peg by the door. “Ready?”
“Yeah… sure.” Marigold stood, unsure whether she was relieved or disappointed to be leaving so soon.
She followed Hugo out to the truck and without thinking, she walked over to the driver-side door and was about to climb in when Hugo called out, “Both doors work now.”
“Oh… gotcha.” For some reason, Marigold felt herself blush as she went back around and hoisted herself into the passenger seat.
“Seat belt works too,” she said. “You’ve been busy.”
Hugo started the engine, which, thankfully, was still loud enough to preclude conversation.
A zillion questions bounced on the tip of her tongue, none of which felt appropriate to ask ten minutes after arriving out of the blue, four years after walking out without a word.
Are you seeing someone? Are you happy? Did I ruin your life?
Is your mom still mad at me? Are you still mad at me?
They rumbled down the drive and bounced along the narrow, pitted dirt road that led past the harbor and into town.
Marigold rolled down the window and took a deep breath, relishing the familiar mix of ocean and motor oil.
For the first portion of the drive, they sat in silence.
That was something that’d struck Marigold about Hugo right away: he was comfortable with quiet.
He didn’t need to vocalize every thought that flitted into his head, and he didn’t expect her to do so either.
However, even Hugo wasn’t comfortable with this kind of quiet, the awkward silence of reuniting with the person who’d once known your body and your secrets better than anyone in the world, but who now felt like a stranger.
“Why’d you wait so long to get the marriage license?” he asked finally. “Are you guys eloping or something?”
“No, there’s a wedding. A big wedding, actually. And I guess I just got caught up in all the other details and forgot about the most important part.”
“It’s not just your responsibility, is it? What about your… fiancé?” Hugo stumbled over the word, as if saying it aloud for the first time. It wasn’t impossible given that their own engagement had been about ninety minutes.
“I told him I’d take care of it. His work schedule is nuts—he’s a doctor, a pediatric oncologist.” Marigold thought she saw Hugo wince, but perhaps she just imagined it.
She hadn’t mentioned Jonathan’s job to brag; she just wanted Hugo to know that a respected, contributing member of society wanted to marry her.
That Marigold was more than the flighty, callous girl who’d treated him so badly.
“A pediatric oncologist, huh? Not sure I’ve ever met one of those.”
“Yeah, it sounds fake. Like marine biologist.” Marigold waited for Hugo to respond, then continued, “You know, something kids talk about but no one actually pursues.”
“I know a few marine biologists.” Hugo gestured out the window at the ocean. “Lots of them around… the ocean.”
“Yeah, right, of course,” Marigold said. “Listen, I’m really sorry for showing up out of the blue like this. I know it’s—”
“It’s fine,” Hugo cut her off. “All in the past. Don’t worry about it.”
As they entered the town, Marigold marveled at how many memories came rushing back to her given how little time she’d spent there.
They passed the seafood shack where the server had razzed Hugo for splitting a bottle of Chablis with Marigold instead of his usual beer.
(“Want me to bring a beret for you?”) They drove by the only store that sold clothing—mostly hunting and fishing gear—where Marigold had tried to cobble together a makeshift wardrobe after leaving her clothes behind on the yacht.
She smiled as they passed the library/community center where they’d seen Hugo’s twelve-year-old niece Maddie star in Annie.
The show had been as terrible and adorable as Marigold had expected, but nothing could’ve prepared her for the tenderness she’d felt watching Hugo’s eyes well up while Maddie sang “Maybe.”
Hugo pulled up in front of the coffee shop. “I’m sorry your petition to change the name didn’t work,” he deadpanned.
Marigold groaned when she glanced up at the familiar sign that read Mocha-Latte-Tude. “It doesn’t make any sense! Is it a pun on attitude or latitude? And what do either of them have to do with mochas?”
“I know,” Hugo said with an exasperated smile. “You’ve made your displeasure clear.”
“It’s just such a branding fail.”
“Yeah, well, when you’re the only coffee shop in town, you have some leeway. Let’s go.”
“Um, can we get coffee after we go to the notary?” Marigold asked as she slid out of the truck and followed Hugo toward the café. “I don’t want to be difficult, but we don’t have a ton of time.”
“This is the notary. The owner, Bob, runs a few businesses in town.”
Inside, the café was just as cozy and low-key as Marigold remembered.
There were two people on laptops and zero on Zoom calls; everyone else was reading or chatting.
Hugo walked straight up to the counter, where a portly, gray-haired man was ringing up a customer with one hand while frothing milk with the other. “Hey, Bob,” Hugo said.