She looks surprised to see me and stumbles over the words I interrupted, like a record player gone off kilter. Sympathy flashes across her face, but she recovers by directing me to a recently cleaned section of The Canteen. Donuts and a portable carton of coffee sit there, ready for the taking. The others have already armed themselves with her offering. I wave a quiet hand, not wanting to interrupt further.

“Okay, where were we?” She sounds nervous as she refers to her green notebook.

The boys occupy their usual places—Wade and Christie behind the counter, and Roy, belly-out, donut resting atop it, stretched on a stool. Marigold stands off to the right, hugging her sketchpad and shifting on her black Mary Janes. The cigarette smoke may be making her uncomfortable. She’s very sensitive about her environment. Lighting, sounds, temperature, movement, and smells. It’s a wonder she’s inside at all.

But Marina comforts and encourages Marigold, like with the Peter Pike situation and now, with what Marigold describes as a “real job.” Watching Marigold do new things after only a few interactions with this charismatic woman fills me with uncharacteristic optimism that one day, she won’t need me to back her up on library book fines or drive her to places she doesn’t feel comfortable going. A friendship with Marina might be good for her in surprising, strange ways.

The same is true for me.

Marina stands mid-store like she’s approaching the counter to make a purchase. She wears faded denim overalls, a t-shirt, a light pink sweater, and a high ponytail. The overalls and ponytail make her look even younger than she is, a needed relief from my last memory of her. She is younger, I keep telling myself.

She clears her throat. “The way I see it, to turn this into a profitable business, it all comes down to three golden rules.”

“Rules?” Wade belts back with irritation.

“Only three?” Christie asks over top of him.

“Just three,” she reiterates. “If we team up and use these three rules to guide our decisions about the G&G, then I’m one hundred percent confident that it’ll become a money-maker, a real contender in Seagrove.”

Christie claps. “Oh, Marnie, I have chills.”

“Rules sound stuffy,” Roy complains. “We ain’t in elementary school anymore.”

Marina’s mouth quirks into a half-smile like she expects pushback, even wants it. “Right, but I don’t mean rules like raising your hand before speaking. I mean, general practices that will bring in customers.”

Roy looks confused. Then, raises his hand. Idiot.

“Oh, what nice manners. Yes, Roy?”

He looks sheepish and unsure. “Um, speaking on behalf of the establishment,” he says, motioning to Wade, “I’d like the record to show that we don’t like rules.”

“You won’t like these, either. At first,” she says. “But I promise you will once customers start pouring in. And they’re easy peasy.”