The setting sun lit the horizon on fire, painting the tips of distant treetops red and yellow. Marigold stood in the backyard staring into the distance, arms folded, a frown creasing her face.
“That’s not how you’re supposed to look when you’re standing out here in God’s country, watching a beautiful sunset, Ginger said.
“I told Henry I couldn’t see him any more. Marigold’s face was a mask of misery. Her eyes glittered with angry tears.
Oh, Ginger said. Was he bad in bed?
“No, he was incredible. Ten out of ten. Wait, make that twenty out of ten.
”Was he rude while you were out on dates? Flirted with other women?”
“No, he held the door open for me, acted like I was the only woman in the world, and seemed fascinated with everything that I said.
“Wow. He sounds like such a douchebag. I’d have dumped him too.
I know, right? What a dick. Marigold sounded aggrieved.
“Remind me again why we’re mad at him?