“I promise you though, I want Marigold looked after, too.”
They were both shocked to find the woman herself standing before them, looking more than a little lost.
“Oh!” she said. “I was looking for you.” She looked down at her skirts. “I’m not feeling well. So I don’t think I’ll go and see your fiancee, Finn. And I’m sorry, but I must push your hospitality a little further. I think I need to lay down, and there’s no place I can do that here on short notice.”
“Rosemary will be pleased,” William said.
Marigold nodded.
Something had deflated her. She had been so happy riding into town this morning. Finn had a strong urge to ask her what was wrong, but he felt just as strongly that she wouldn’t tell him what happened just yet.
“I’ll take you back,” William said, “and Finn can take care of any business in town.”
“No, thank you,” Marigold said. “I overheard you, William, saying just this morning that you had an appointment with a carpenter just now to consult about your house. I won’t keep you from it, and I can assure you I will be terrible company. I don’t feel much like talking.”
“Then I can–” Finn began, but Marigold silenced him by shaking her head.
“I’ll see you both later,” she said, “and thank you for showing me the way.”
With that she swept off toward Charger. She wiped her sleeve on her eye, and it confirmed to Finn that she had been fighting off tears.
“Should we go to Melinda and ask what happened?” William asked.
“No, I don’t think Marigold would like that,” Finn said. “Besides, we should keep our appointments. Yours with the carpenter, and mine with Hestia.”
*
Finn steeled himself. He found Hestia reading a pamphlet in her parlour and snacking on sweets.
“Hestia,” he said, “do you think we are well suited?”
Without looking up, Hestia flipped the pages of the pamphlet.
“What does that even mean?”
“I know that, together, we make sense. But are we well suited?” Finn asked.
Hestia’s red lipstick was piled on thick, her eye makeup and rogue heavy for such a summer day.
“I don’t know how to answer that question,” she said. “What are you implying?”
“Do we like to converse on the same topics,” Finn began, “do we like the same climates, seasons?” He pulled at his collar from the stuffiness of the room. “Do we, for instance, both like open windows?”
“A better question is,” Hestia said, putting her pamphlet down, “do any of those odd questions matter?”
“Do you like animals?”
“You know I don’t.”
“Do you even like my family?”
“Some of them.”
“And what about the farm?”
“I’d prefer to live in town.”
Finn sighed.
