Chapter Fifteen Marigold
Marigold wondered if there was a word for the strange feeling that came over her as Hugo parked in front of Viana’s Tavern. It wasn’t déjà vu because, of course, she’d been here before. But the familiarity felt more like something left over from a dream than an actual memory.
Hugo had agreed to let her crash at his place but explained that he’d already made plans to do pub trivia that night. “That’s fine,” Marigold had said. “Just drop me off at your house first. I can hang out there.”
“No, you should come. My friends would love to see you.”
He’d sounded convincing back at the shipyard, and Hugo’s friends had made her feel welcome and comfortable during their whirlwind romance.
But now that she and Hugo had arrived, Marigold felt a lot less confident.
Inside the bar were the closest friends of the man she’d run out on.
Hugo seemed to have gotten over it, but it seemed unlikely that his buddies would’ve been quite so quick to forgive and forget.
And now she had to face them at trivia night, of all places.
Trivia was Marigold’s kryptonite; it made her feel far more exposed than any of the tiny outfits she’d been paid to model over the years.
Jonathan was part of a team that competed at a famously difficult pub quiz in the Village where NYU grad students duked it out against what remained of the downtown intelligentsia.
Marigold attended occasionally when she couldn’t come up with a convincing excuse to skip out and had consistently mortified herself until she decided it was safer to stay mute.
No one ever made fun of her or even expressed frustration when she supplied a wrong answer, but somehow, their kindness—Jonathan’s in particular—stung more than an eye roll.
“How much did you tell everyone about why I’m here?” Marigold asked as she unclipped her seat belt.
“I said you’d come to sort out some divorce paperwork. I didn’t mention that you’re getting married tomorrow. That didn’t seem like my news to share.” Hugo opened the driver-side door, then paused. “Ready?”
Marigold nodded though she felt anything but ready.
The bar looked the same as she’d remembered, with its cracked vinyl booths, enormous jukebox, old beer ads, and fishing paraphernalia on the walls.
The crowd was the usual mix of locals in windbreakers and work boots, and tourists who were easily identifiable in the brand-new sweatshirts they always bought in town when the temperature dropped in the afternoon.
Hugo led her over to a table where four people were already seated: Hugo’s cousin Jay, and Jay’s girlfriend, Ruby, who also happened to be Hugo’s high school sweetheart (“It’s not as weird as you think,” Ruby had explained once.
“In a town this small, you’re lucky to avoid your own cousins, forget about your ex’s cousins”), and his friends Wes and Lauren.
“You guys remember Marigold,” Hugo said evenly.
Marigold raised her hand in greeting. “Hi.”
“Marigold!” Ruby stood and pulled Marigold into a tight hug. “It’s great to see you.” The others remained seated but gave her warm smiles.
“What do you want to drink?” Hugo asked her.
“I’ll get this round,” Marigold said. “I insist.” She’d rather let the group whisper about her in her absence than try to make small talk without Hugo.
When she returned with her and Hugo’s beers, Wes was writing their team name on their answer sheet: Stay Marigold, Ponyboy. “We’re usually Trivia Newton-John, but we change it up when we have special guests,” he explained.
“I’m honored,” Marigold said, although she didn’t fully understand the pony thing. Was this a jab about her being rich?
To her relief, Hugo squinted at the sheet and said, “I don’t get it.”
“From The Outsiders!” Wes said. “You know that famous line, ‘Stay gold, Ponyboy’?”
“Oh, right.” Hugo nodded. “That’s a good one.”
Wes gave him a curious look, but before he could say anything, the quiz began.
It was just as difficult as Jonathan’s, maybe even more so because so many of the pop culture questions—the only category in which Marigold ever dared attempt an answer—were skewed toward Canadian references.
Even those were few and far between, though, with more esoteric subjects taking precedence.
Hugo seemed undaunted, easily summoning answers like “the Second Punic War” and “Ode on a Grecian Urn.”
No one seemed to notice, let alone care, that Marigold wasn’t providing any answers.
It wasn’t that Jonathan ever seemed frustrated, exactly.
But whenever a question came up that he thought Marigold should know, he’d prod her like an encouraging teacher.
“We saw this painting at the Met, remember? When we went for that exhibition?” Or, worse, “Didn’t you say you’d read this one?
” about a book Natalie had summarized for her.
Instead of debating the answers until the last possible second, Hugo’s team would discuss, write down a response, and then go back to whatever they’d been talking about: Ruby’s latest work drama (the owner of the veterinary practice had been caught stealing drugs), Wes’s home brewery, the camping trip they were leaving for on Sunday, or whether Lauren’s American boyfriend was using her as a route to Canadian citizenship.
“That’s one thing we can’t accuse you of, Marigold!
” Jay said, prompting a look from Ruby. “What? What’d I say? ”
“Just ignore him,” Ruby said with a sigh. “He knows not what he says.”
“I don’t get it,” Jay continued. “I meant that she clearly wasn’t one of those Americans looking for Canadian citizenship or else she never would’ve run off!”
Marigold shot a nervous glance at Hugo, but he’d gone around to the other end of the table to work on some physics equation with Wes and was thankfully too engrossed in the math to notice.
“No, you’re right.” Marigold flashed a smile at Jay. “That wasn’t on my mind. Though if I’d had a crystal ball, it might’ve been.”
Jay nodded. “Because Hugo’s business ended up taking off.”
“What? No,” Marigold said quickly. “Because of the political situation in America. With all those sociopaths trying to destroy the country?”
“Come on, Jay,” Lauren said. “Marigold didn’t even know about Hugo’s business. He started that after she… He started that later.”
“That’s right,” Marigold agreed. “I didn’t know. But I’m really impressed!”
Lauren waited until Hugo went up to order from the bar, then turned to Marigold and lowered her voice.
“He was like a man possessed. He’d always wanted to switch from repairs to design, but it’s a big leap with a lot of financial risk.
And then, one day, he just sort of… went for it.
He enrolled in a bunch of night classes, then he got a loan, switched to part-time at the dock, and started designing. ”
“And this was sometime after our… thing?” Marigold asked.
“Right after,” Jay said. “Like, the next week. Guess he needed something to take his mind off you.” A cheer went up from the table next to them as the quizmaster read out the latest scores.
“Uh-oh, The Algebraic Functional Alcoholics are catching up. I hate those guys. I’m going to go try to distract them. ”
As Jay approached his rivals’ table, Lauren leaned in to whisper to Marigold. “For what it’s worth, I don’t think it was a distraction—I think he wanted to impress you.”
“Oh.” Marigold wasn’t sure how to respond to this. Why would Hugo want to impress the person who treated him so poorly? And who’d done her best to cut off contact? It didn’t make any sense. “I doubt it had anything to do with me. It was all his accomplishment.”
Lauren and Ruby exchanged a fleeting look and seemed to agree it was time to change the subject. “Do you still live in Manhattan?” Ruby asked. “I thought all the hip people lived in Brooklyn.”
“Hip?” Lauren repeated. “I’m sorry, that’s so cringe, I just died a little inside.”
“Okay, cringe is a LOT worse than hip. Tell her, Marigold.”
“Wait, it is her,” a voice said. Marigold looked up to see Jay coming over with two of the girls who’d been sitting at the next table, one with dark brown hair in long braids, and another with a dyed purple pixie cut.
“Told you,” Jay said smugly.
“Um, hi?” Marigold gave them an uncertain smile, wondering if “her” meant “that New York bitch who broke Hugo’s heart” or “that influencer I follow.”
“I think you’re amazing,” the girl with braids said, then tilted her head toward her friend. “So does Chelsea.”
“I don’t follow you,” Chelsea, the purple-haired girl, said, looking embarrassed.
The girl with braids shot an exasperated look at her friend. “Yeah, but I’ve sent you, like, hundreds of her posts.”
“Sorry for the spam,” Marigold said with a smile while secretly wishing she could disappear. No one ever approached her in New York, where she was small potatoes compared to real celebrities like Richie.
“What are you doing up here?” the girl asked eagerly. “Is it for a campaign?”
“Um, no… I…”
“Hey, Mare?” Hugo appeared at her side and tossed his keys onto the table with a clang. “I think I left my phone in the truck. Do you mind checking?”
“What?” Marigold looked from the keys to Hugo in surprise.
“Oh yeah, sure. No problem.” She excused herself and headed toward the door, doing her best to maintain a casual pace that belied her desperation to get outside.
She stepped into the chilly evening air and took a few bracing deep breaths before walking over to Hugo’s truck.
She unlocked the door and looked around, but there was no sign of his phone, so she went around to the other side and began rooting through the glove compartment.
“What are you doing?” Marigold turned to see Hugo standing next to the truck.
“Looking for your phone?”
Hugo smiled. “It’s in my pocket. It just seemed like you were maybe ready for a break, so I made up an excuse.”
Marigold stared at him, feeling a surge of warmth despite the nippy air. That’s exactly what Natalie would’ve done for her. Except that, in Marigold’s experience, no one else—not even her family—could sense when she needed a few minutes alone to recenter herself. “Thank you.”
Lauren stuck her head out the door and called to them, “Hugo, come back! There’s another literature category coming up.”
“One sec!” He turned to Marigold. “You ready to head back in? Or do you need more time?”
“I’m ready.” She closed the glove compartment and shut the door. “I didn’t realize you knew so much about literature. Was that your major? Before you dropped out?”
“No, ecology and engineering. I just like to read.”
Marigold came to a stop right before they reached the door. “Wait. You recognized that quote from The Outsiders right away, didn’t you? You were just pretending so I wouldn’t feel stupid.”
“What are you talking about?”
She jabbed him in the ribs. “The ‘stay gold, Ponyboy’ thing! You didn’t want me to have to admit I didn’t get it, so you pretended not to get it.”
Hugo flashed her a smile. “Since when did you become such a conspiracy theorist?” He opened the door and placed a hand on her back, guiding her inside. “Let’s go, pony girl.”