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"I know he did," she assures him. "We never discussed it in plain terms like that, but he wanted to be close to you."
Cobb looks as if he might shed tears. "He's an impressive man, isn't he?"
Marigold leans forward and reaches out with one hand, putting it on Cobb's knee as she looks at him. "He is," she says. "He's the best of both of us. He's never wanted anything but to make you proud, to look after you, and to follow in your footsteps."
"He's a damn fine musician," Cobb says, tossing a glance towards the kitchen. "Plays the guitar more smoothly than I do. He'll have his own moment in the sun."
"If that's what he wants," Marigold says, pulling her hand from Cobb's knee and leaning back. "The beauty of being his own man is that he gets to decide exactly what he wants."
"Would that we could all have exactly what we want," Cobb says, letting his eyes drift to the Christmas tree. "I would want to go back in time and be a better man. I would want to be a better husband and father." He looks right at Marigold. "I would have wanted to be strong enough that I could have gotten my shit together sooner, then I never would have had to let you go."
"Oh, Cobb," Marigold says, feeling her own eyes sting with the tears that threaten to fall whenever she remembers how much she loved Cobb all those years, and how much she'd had to draw on that deep well of love in order to finally pack her things and leave. She's about to get to her knees and lean over to hug him when Elijah pops his head into the doorway.
"Can I interest either of you in a snowball?" he asks, holding up two frosty drinks. As a kid, Marigold had always given Elijah one snowball cocktail at Christmas, putting just a splash of amaretto liqueur in his to mix with the ice cream and vanilla. "The alcohol in your drink is a more generous splash than what you used to give me, Mum."
Marigold stands up, pushing back the tears. This is no time for wallowing in regret, because her family is here in her house with her, and they have a holiday to celebrate. "Snowballs at noon? Why not?" she says, reaching out to take the drinks from Elijah. "Thanks, buddy."
"Let's not get too tanked before the main course," he says with a wink. "And Dad," he says, turning to Cobb. "Yours is the one in Mum's left hand, and of course it's a mocktail."
"Thanks, chap," Cobb says, accepting the drink from Marigold and holding his glass so that she can tap hers against it.
"How about we take ours out and sit on the beach," Marigold says, looking at Elijah to make sure he's fine with her totally shirking her kitchen duties.
"Go," Elijah says, waving them off with a roll of the eyes like a mom who knows her kids will be of no help to her so she might as well send them off to play. "Go on now." He turns back to the kitchen, shaking his head as his parents clink their glasses together one more time and head for the door.
Marigold
"He has to go," Marigold says. Her eyes are glassy as she holds a mug of tea in both hands. "I need him out of my house."
The book club has agreed to meet on Boxing Day--the day after Christmas--to get a break from all their holiday responsibilities and to catch up. This, quite frankly, is the first time that Marigold has talked about Cobb at any length, and the other women are on the edge of their seats.
"I've been following your Instagram posts," Heather admits, lifting the string of her tea bag and bobbing the bag in her hot water as steam rises. "Looks like Christmas went well, but I've gotta be honest, Marigold--not many of us could play nurse to an ex-husband."
Marigold sets her tea on the table next to her and sits back in the chair, lacing her fingers over her stomach. "I told you all it was complicated between me and Cobb, and I wasn't lying."
"Well, I still can't believe that Cobb Hartley is on our island," Vanessa says, looking starry-eyed. "He's the most talented musician of our time. Even my parents love him." Tilly nudges her to stop her fangirl gushing. "Sorry," Vanessa says, blushing.
"Quite alright.” Marigold is amused. "You're not the first person to be a fan of Cobb Hartley, nor will you be the last. He does have a certain...magic," she admits, letting her eyes graze the group of curious faces. "But ladies, he's driving me insane."
"I thought things were going really well," Athena says, then puts her fingertips to her mouth. "Sorry, I went for a walk with Elijah last night, and he said having Christmas as a family was more than he could have hoped for."
Marigold takes this in. "I'm happy that he's happy, hon," she says, smiling at Athena. "But Cobb and I know exactly how to push each other's buttons, and I have to admit, spending time in close quarters with someone you have unfinished business with isn't easy."
"Especially during the holidays," Ruby says. She pours her own mug of hot water and drops a tea bag in. Given the abundance of food over Christmas, the women have deemed this a "food free" book club meeting, with just tea and coffee early in the afternoon and a bookstore that's officially closed so that they can commandeer the back room and indulge in as much girl talk as they need and want to.
"Exactly," Marigold agrees, nodding. "There's that whole element of feeling like you have to be on your best behavior, and in the best mood for everyone around you. And also constantly battling that sort of melancholy feeling that the holidays bring. Do you know what I mean? That feeling?"
The women all nod.
"I get that every Christmas," Heather admits, her gaze fixed on the floor in the middle of the circle. "It's like you have a minute to remember every magical Christmas you ever had, every loved one who is no longer with you, and you also get that weird nostalgia for the year that's almost over."
"Which has flown by without warning," Sunday adds, lifting her tea mug. "The years seem to be going faster and faster."
"They do," Marigold says. "Which is why I feel like I want--no, Ineed--to come to terms with Cobb. I don't know what that looks like, but I have to somehow forgive him or something. I'm not even sure, to be perfectly honest." She frowns.
"Okay, let's start with what's making you want to boot him out the door," Ruby says, crossing her legs and sipping her tea. "You said he has to go, but why?”
Marigold gives a throaty laugh. "I've been a single woman for a decade. If I fall into the toilet one more time because this man doesn't put the seat down, I'm going to strangle him with a hand towel." The other women nod and laugh knowingly. "He plays records on my turntable twenty-four-seven. I'm not kidding, you guys. I wake up to Bob Dylan, listen to The Smiths while I'm drinking coffee, put my AirPods in to block out Carlos Santana, and then eat dinner with Leonard Cohen in the background. Cobb is like a little boy, bouncing off the furniture with ideas about which album we need to hear next."
