“They were never married.”
“Siblings?”
“I’m an only child.”
“And where’s your mom?”
Marigold had thought she’d made this clear. “She lives here, of course.”
“I meant, where is she now?”
She felt embarrassed again, which was followed quickly by frustration. “Work. She works a night shift.” But as soon as the words left her mouth, Marigold was horrified. She’d just told a stranger that they were alone. How could she be so stupid?
But North only seemed irritated. “So there’s no one here to help us. Fantastic.”
“Excuse me?”
He slid out a turquoise Moroccan end table from the top of a furniture tower as carefully as if he were playing a game of Jenga. “You’ll have to back up now.”
Marigold’s frustration was growing at a colossal rate. “Sorry?”
“This can all be reorganized, but I’ll need a lot more space to work. Everything in these front rooms”—North gestured his head from side to side—“needs to be moved out there.” He jerked his head toward the outside hall. “You’re in my way.” And then he pushed forward, backing her out of her own apartment with her own Moroccan end table.
Marigold was gobsmacked. “What are you doing?”
“Helping you.” He set down the table beside her Christmas tree. “Obviously.”
“Don’t you have to get back to work?”
“I do. Which is why you’re going to keep doing this while I’m gone. One item at a time, okay?” He nodded, answering his own question. “Okay. I’ll be back when my shift is over.”
*
Marigold didn’t understand how he’d talked her into this. For the last two hours, she’d been carrying dusty chairs and dirty cardboard boxes and trash bags filled with linens and laundry baskets filled with tchotchkes into the outside hallway. Ms. Agrippa had yelled at her three times.
What would her mother say when she came home—in the earliest hours of the morning—and found that their entire apartment had been rearranged? And that Marigold had let a stranger help her do it? That it was his suggestion?
Though … this wasn’t true. Not entirely.
Marigold did sort of know why she’d let him talk her into this, and it wasn’t just because she thought, for sure, that now she could ask for his help with the voice work. North’s company had been the most entertaining she’d had in ages, since her friends had left for college last autumn. With North, she didn’t know what would happen next. And for the last several months, Marigold had known exactly what would happen next. A broken, depressed mother and an endless schedule of work, alleviated only by the silent company of her computer—and the world and people contained within it.
North was real. North was flesh.
And now her own flesh was covered with a thin glaze of sweat. Great.
It was just after ten o’clock, and she was paper-toweling her armpits, when she heard his heavy footsteps coming up the stairs. She hastily threw away the paper towel and greeted him at the door.
“Happy solstice.” North handed her a tree stand.
“We do have one of these. Somewhere,” she added.
“I believe you. I think you have one of everything in here. But I’m not betting on our chances of finding it.”
Marigold wasn’t sure if she was amused or annoyed.
North barged past her and into the apartment. “Thank you, North,” he said.
Annoyed. Her jaw clenched. “Thank you, North.”
“You’re welcome, Marigold.” He glanced around the room appreciatively. “Wow. You got more cleared out than I thought you would.”
“Like I told you earlier: I’m stronger than I look.”
“It’s brighter in here, too.”
Marigold couldn’t refute that, but … everything still had to come back inside. She wished she could throw it all away instead. “You seriously think we can fit all of that back in here? And with enough room for the tree?”
“You sound doubtful. Why do you sound doubtful? I have yet to do a single dubious thing in your presence.”
Dubious. That was another good word. Not only did she like how he spoke, but she liked what he spoke. “You’ve done a few dubious things,” she said.
“Name one.”
“Helping out me, someone you don’t even know, in such an extreme manner? That’s textbook dubious.”
“I’d like to argue that”—he grinned—“but I can’t.”
“Why are you helping me?”
His eyes returned to her apartment, scanning its square footage, measuring its nooks and crannies. “Because I have superior organizational skills. I sense how things can fit together. I’m, like, a human Tetris. It’s my superpower. It’s my duty to help you.”
Marigold crossed her arms. “Your superpower.”
“Everyone has at least one. Unfortunately, most people have dumb ones like always being the first to spot a four-leaf clover. Or always being able to guess a person’s weight to the exact pound.”