Page 26 of The Throwaway
“We’re hell-bent on Shipwreck and Christmas Key becoming sister islands,” Ruby says with a laugh, looking at the group that’s assembled there. “This is my second time coming here, and I’m trying to get Holly and some of the others to come over to Shipwreck for a weekend.”
“We’d love to,” Holly says. “Now, let’s get you all shipped off to your various spots.” She nods at a redhead who is standing with Bev. Cobb thinks he heard someone say that the redhead from Christmas Key is Bev’s cousin, Bonnie.
“Okay!” Bonnie says, consulting a sheet of paper in her hands. “We do have a tiny little New Year’s Eve event here that’s forcing us to be creative with lodging, but we’ve got this. Trust me.”
The women from Shipwreck Key wait expectantly and Cobb just stands there, looking at the decorations that line the street. It look like the set of a holiday movie.
“We have two rooms at the B&B that aren’t being occupied by our group of visitors,” Bonnie says. “And I have Ruby and Sunday sharing one of the rooms—two queen beds, of course—and the other room is for Marigold and Cobb, which also has two beds.”
Ruby and Sunday look perfectly fine with the arrangement, but as Cobb glances at his ex-wife, he sees that she’s just the tiniest bit put off by the prospect of sharing a room with him. He’s thrilled by it, but she’s not, and he can tell just by feeling the tension that radiates off of her.
“Heather is bunking with me in my spare room,” Bonnie says, looking at Heather Charleton-Bicks with an apologetic smile. “I hear you love men as much as I do, so we’ll have plenty of girl talk between the two of us to keep us up all night,” she says with a wink.
Heather laughs. “That sounds wonderful,” she says gratefully. “Thank you for letting me stay.”
“And,” Bonnie continues, glancing at Banks, who has been quietly along for the ride, as usual. Cobb watches him, admiring the silent stoicism of the man, and wondering what drives a person to spend their entire work life putting themself last, vowing to risk life and limb to protect another human being, whether you agree with their politics, morals, and fundamental beliefs or not. “I have Banks in a tiny home on the north side of the island. The owners are not here for the holidays, and they were willing to rent it out for the night. Now, if it makes more sense, we could put Banks in the second room at the B&B and move Cobb and Marigold to the tiny home, but Marigold asked for something close to the doctor’s office, and moving to the tiny home will kind of defeat that purpose, so…” She makes an apologetic face.
“Everything is totally fine as it is,” Ruby assures her with a smile. “Banks and I don’t need to be in adjacent rooms. We’ve been to Christmas Key before, and I think we’re good with this set up.” She glances at her Secret Service agent, and he gives a single nod to let her know that if she’s comfortable with it, then he is.
Cobb leans over to Marigold. “You wanted to be close to the doctor?” he whispers in her ear. “Are you worried I’ll keel over from the excitement of being on a Christmas island, love?” He pinches her right above her waist, meaning for it to be playful, but Marigold pulls away from him.
“I worry about you,” she says softly, privately, as she turns to look at him. “I brought you here because the doctor said it would be okay as long as there was someone close by with medical training, but we’re farther from the mainland out here, and I wanted to make sure I had all my ducks in a row.”
Cobb gives her a long look, trying to stay unbothered by the nuisance of being treated like an elderly man with a chronic condition, but as usual, he can’t ever be mad at Marigold. In fact, he can’t think of a time in all the years they’ve known each other when she hasn’t somehow put him first, and it cows him to realize that fact.
“Thanks, Goldie,” he says. “And I’m sorry we have to bunk together—I know that’s not what you want, and I promise not to snore.”
Marigold’s concerned face morphs into one of annoyed amusement. “Pleeasseeee,” she says, dragging out the word. “You snored every single night for twenty years. I brought earplugs with me because, darling, men don’t start to snorelessas they age.”
Cobb can’t help but laugh at this. “I know, I know,” he says, shifting his duffel bag from one hand to the other. “We don’t age like fine wine the way that women do, but you put up with us nonetheless, and I’m eternally grateful.”
Just then, a tall man in his thirties approaches the dock, one hand tucked into the pocket of his shorts, and a pair of aviator glasses covering his eyes. He has the strong, confident lope of a man who is effortlessly handsome and also incredibly intelligent. He lifts a hand in greeting, walking directly toward Marigold, and for a second, Cobb feels his heart constrict dangerously.Is this man waving at Marigold? Does she have a lover on this sister island who she hasn’t mentioned yet?
But just as Cobb is ready to panic, the man takes off his sunglasses, and his eyes are trained on Ruby, not Marigold. He reaches out one arm to give Ruby a tentative hug. She stands up on her toes to hug him back.
“Dexter North,” Marigold says, leaning over and putting her mouth to Cobb’s ear. “The writer who’s working with Ruby on the book about President Hudson.”
“Ahhh,” Cobb says. Relief courses through his veins. Marigold has no idea how close he’d been to dropping his bag and squaring up with this man, regardless of the fact that Dexter North is clearly twenty years Cobb’s junior and most likely hasn’t recently undergone heart surgery.
“Let’s get everyone to their rooms, and then you can join us for this evening’s New Year’s events,” Holly says, walking at the head of the pack with Stella on her hip. The baby tugs at her mom’s long braid as Holly talks. “We’ve got a group on the island, as I mentioned, and they’re pretty low-key, so we arranged for some things we thought they might like.”
“Is it a fun group?” Sunday asks, carrying her bag as she walks next to Ruby. “I heard that you sometimes get kooky groups likeWizard of Ozfans, or murder mystery tours.”
“That’s true,” Holly says, glancing over her shoulder. “We’ve had some great events. Once we had a family reunion made up entirely of redheads, and we’ve also had a seafood festival, a celebrity wedding, and two reality shows. It’s always fun for us.”
Cobb gives a low whistle. “I had no idea this place was so popular,” he says to Marigold as she walks beside him at the back of the group. “It’s like the Ibiza of America.” Marigold nudges him with her elbow.
“But this group is kind of a secret society,” Holly says. “At least I think that’s what they are. They’ve kept pretty mum about the whole thing, but from what I’ve gathered, they’re called The Seven Society.” She looks around, but Main Street is quiet at the moment. “I’m not entirely sure what they do. They’ve spent most of their time on the island so far buying cigars across the street,” she says, nodding at a shop with a sign above it that says North Star Cigars, “and walking around in twos and threes, having serious conversations. It’s all very mysterious.” Holly shrugs as she walks up the steps of the B&B. “They kind of remind me of a group of grandpas, or retired college professors who like to get together to talk about Poe or compare stocks. Anyhow, I’ll get everyone checked in here. Bonnie, if you’ll take Heather to your place and Banks to the tiny home,” she says, “then we’ll meet back here for dinner at seven.”
Cobb follows Holly gratefully. He’s ready to get into an air-conditioned room and put his feet up. Under normal circumstances Cobb is game for pretty much anything, but right now (and he’d never admit it to anyone but Marigold) all he really wants is a nap.
* * *
When Cobb wakes up it's almost dark outside. Their room at the Christmas Key B&B is on the second floor and has a view of Main Street, which is strung with so many lights that it looks like a county fair at night. Cobb had laid on the bed as soon as Marigold unlocked the door, closing his eyes and falling into an instant, dreamless sleep.
Now, in the semi-darkness, he sees that she's pulled the half of the blanket he's not laying on over the top him while he naps. Cobb kicks the blanket off his body and stands.
"Goldie?" he calls out, though the bathroom is dark too. He lifts his phone from the nightstand and sees a message from her--she's down in the ballroom for dinner, but didn't want to wake him.