“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 walkingout without a word.Are you seeing someone? Are you happy? Did I ruin your life? Is your mom still mad at me? Areyoustill 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 withthiskind 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 inAnnie. 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 onattitudeorlatitude? And what do either of them have to do with mochas?”
“Iknow,” 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 coffeeafterwe 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.”
“Thisisthe 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.
Bob handed the customer her change, then held up his now-free hand. “Sorry, Hugo, no coffee for you until that ulcer clears up. And don’t lie to me because Dr. Lee will be here in twelve minutes for her afternoon matcha latte.”
“I actually need something notarized.”
“Ah.” Bob stood up a bit straighter, untied his apron, and called out to a young woman washing dishes at the sink. “Kyla, I need you up front for a bit.” He stepped out from behind the counter and motioned for Hugo to follow him. When Marigold came up to join them, Bob’s eyes widened. “Oh, it’s you!”
Marigold smiled. “You remember me!”
“How could I forget? I’d never heard anyone ask for coconut milk before.” Bob turned to Hugo. “Where did you end up finding it again?”
