The kitchen in Henry's apartment was small and unaccommodating. Most of the appliances were ornamental and the only truly reliable features were the disposal and sink. From my perch on the barstools, I could see Boris struggle to get the oven up to temp. It was the kind of stove that one might find in a student apartment; no bells and whistles, no external thermometer, just a dial and a clock that always read 5:52.

We were sharing the counter space. I was working through a dense pile of paperwork from Principal Ballard. Boris- well, Boris was baking muffins. We had spent tiny blips of time in one another's company alone. This, however, was the greatest stretch of one-on-one time that I'd ever had with the fellow.

He hummed to himself, lining the tiny tin with equally tiny paper holders. My suggestion to put the batter in a measuring cup might have worked better if the muffins were full-sized. Still, he was extremely diligent about immediately cleaning any spill that happened during the process. I looked straight ahead, spacing out from behind the steam that rose from my cup of chamomile. I hated filling out forms. Since the schoolhouse fell into my ownership, I had accumulated enough papers to fill the building twice over. Now that some hope was beginning to show, that it might actually become a functioning learning space after all, I was drowning within an influx of legal forms.

"Damn bureaucracy." I murmured.

"Damn it to hell!"

Boris turned towards me, lifted a batter-covered spoon and shouted, "Here here!" A drop of the sugary substance fell and landed on the floor. Before he could clean it, Moxie dashed across the laminate and lapped it up. "Damn. That was almost enough to make a single muffin. Wasted!"

"The next time that we go to the market, we'll get you some supplies that are intended for adults and not an Easy Bake Oven, okay?"

"A what?"

I shook my head, dismissing the subject. There were times when I genuinely suspected that Boris was from another planet. But he meant well- of this I was certain.

"They should be perfect for you," he beamed, "while you were away, Miss Zipp told me that you prefer smaller portions." The smile quickly flattened out. I must have been making a face that I was not aware of. "She also said that your preference is somewhat problematic."

"Some people don't like sugar. There's nothing problematic about that."

"Unless that sugar is in an almond croissant," he raised his eyebrow and began to laugh the moment that he saw me grin. Did Boris just sass me? Good heavens, he did! "Can I be very frank with you, Miss Ca-Mrs. Anderson?"

"Marigold, please." I turned towards him and away from the papers. The last thing that I wanted was another discussion of this nature, but welcomed the distraction. Talking to Boris was always a treat. A strange one, but a treat nonetheless. "And yes, you may."

"You should never feel ashamed for finding joy in a joyful thing. Be it an almond croissant. Or a muffin. You should allow yourself to be happy every once in a while."

"Did Giselle say that?"

Boris shook his head. "Henry has been my dearest friend for," he stammered, looking down at his shoes, "for what feels like lifetimes. Longer, even. What is dear to him is dear to me."

"Thank you," now I was looking at the floor along with him. He was sweet. Sweet and a an absolute enigma in my life. I longed to get to know him and how exactly he fit into my husband's world. So, I took it upon myself to steer the conversation into a completely different direction. "How did you two meet? If you don't mind my asking."

"I was in the hospital recovering from an injury. He- he gave me a violin." He chuckled to himself, quietly. The expression that he wore was hard to read, but I believe that I had seen it before. It was winsome, somber, utterly complex.

"What was he like back then? Has he changed?"

Boris continued to revel in the memory that I had accidentally unearthed. One moment, he looked as if he might cry, another as though he might break out in laughter. "Not at all." The oven dinged. I assumed he would be eager to start baking the muffins right away, but I was mistaken. "No, no. He hasn't changed one bit."

"A violin, you say? That makes sense. You're both rather musically inclined. Although, you are the better singer! By far!"

"The same could be said about you and Miss Zipp!" After an elongated moment of staring off into space, he opened the door and popped the tray inside the glowing oven. "You are quite the pair! How did your friendship come to be?"

"Theatre," I replied simply. "We fought over a part in one show and were stuck in the chorus together for the next. It was a rocky start for sure. But I can't imagine life without her. It's almost like we're two halves of one whole. And now I'm married..."

"Marriage complicates things. Especially for best friends."

I crossed my arms over my chest, trying and failing to unscramble what was going on behind those large, blue eyes of his. "We should set a timer. How long do they need to bake?" He gave me the time, I started one on the clock function of my phone and returned to the keen, peculiar discomfort of our conversation. "Were you married? Or was Henry?"

"I was," he said, quickly. Suspiciously so. He glanced at the legions of meticulously labeled forms on the counter and smiled to himself. "To a Ballard."

"They're an exhausting bunch! No offense!"

"Only as exhausting as, say, a Casey!" He waited for my laugh, relaxing only when I granted him one. "I am happy for you both. You are wonderful together!"

This caused a somewhat unwelcome reaction in my heart. I didn't want to ask, to bring it up, but I felt that I could trust him. Unlike Giselle, he was likely to be the only person in existence who wouldn't give me an 'I told you so' the second I brought up marital problems. "So, you've been married before, yes? Is it normal to become immediately indifferent to someone after marrying them?"

"Immediately indifferent?"

"He hasn't touched me since before we left for Vegas. It's almost like he has cold feet, only after the ceremony. It was his idea to get married, I followed along and now he has me stuck in this terrible limbo. He wouldn't have married me if he didn't want to, right?"

"It is a big change for you both," Boris said calmly, sinking into the barstool beside me. "Everyone must adjust on their own time. Besides, you already know the answer to your dilemma."

"What? That he regrets it?"

"No. He wouldn't have married you if he didn't want to. You said so yourself." We exchanged looks of comfort, of trust, of gratitude. "Did you know that Henry and I were involved in theatre once, too? Just like you and Miss Zipp!"

"Really?! Maybe if my plans with Ballard fall through, we could turn the schoolhouse into a theatre! Nah. It'd be too small! A karaoke bar, perhaps! I wonder what Benny Martin would have to say about that?!"

Boris chuckled, glancing once more at the papers that I was still hoping to escape from. "I wonder what Annabelle Casey would say."

"An earful and then some, certainly."

"Did you know," he leaned in, dropping his booming voice to a faint whisper, "that Henry has drawings of her?" I nearly choked on my tea and he held up his hand, as if to ask me to not get too excited. "Mind you, they are merely photo copies in a book. But the title was never released to the general public. I may have to mail it to him when I return to New York. But who knows? It could be here. We'll ask him tonight."

I was torn between frustration and exultation. My family was a prevalent part of Waterford history and had been guardians of it for many years. That being said, I had never seen a picture of Annabelle Casey. Not a single one. I gave him a nod and a quick smile. "I'd like that very much. Thank you." I must have spaced out. My mind was reeling. So much had changed over the last couple of months. Everything had been set in motion by Henry and Boris- two perfect strangers, both of whom seemed to know more about myself than I did. "You both fit into my life, my town, better than any outsider ever has. And Waterford is a welcoming place!"

By all means, Boris should have been confused by this. By my babbling aloud, but he was not. "We do all seem to fit together, yes. I am going to miss you."

"When are you leaving?"

He shrugged, "When I'm wanted back home." The timer went off and he went to tend to his mini muffins. They were a picture of absolute perfection, toasted golden on top and bursting with blueberries. "Oh, my! Where did you get this kit again?"

Hastily, I reiterated the museum's name. It was an uncomfortable memory to visit. "Try popping them in the freezer! It will make them cool off faster!" Boris gave me what I assumed we're supposed to be finger guns and followed my request. "I assume you're going to bake sweets for your lady when you return home?"

"She is hardly my lady. But perhaps I could try! They'll have to be really, really good muffins!"

"Tell me about her," I urged, surprising myself. "Come on. I told you about my embarrassing situation with Henry. It'll be a fair trade!"

To my surprise, the expression on his face read as though he was eager to tell me. Or someone, anyone. As though he had been waiting in the wings for his cue all along. "Time changes everything. Everyone. I was foolish to believe that she would be the same woman who I fell in love with all those years ago. I recognize her sometimes. But only when she is playing her music. Not when she's with me. She treats me like a stranger and honestly, it makes me feel," he drew in a small breath, collecting himself, "it makes me feel as though it was all a waste. Our history together was so vast and the way that we fit together back then was nothing short of miraculous fate. Somehow, it all went wrong. What's worse is I believe I know now what I did to destroy all hope of a future with her. John just... he just canceled everything out. I'm sorry."

"Don't apologize." I placed my hand on his knee and found that he was shaking. "I was out of line for asking. That was my bad."

"I'm glad that you asked. I only wish that I knew how to fix it."

"Time changes everything. Maybe time will be the one to mend it. You're a great guy. She's bound to start missing you eventually."

After a few seconds, Boris finally looked up at me. He was still so hard to read. "It feels like homesickness. But for a time, not a place. If only I had spent mine better..."

"Miraculous fate," I said with a laugh. "Who are we to try to meddle with fate? I'm not going to pretend that I know what you're all about, Boris Bordon, because I don't. But it makes sense that a nostalgic soul like you would find yourself in a town that has always seemed to be frozen in time. You... you look like a man who could use a muffin!" I dashed over to the freezer and exhumed the tin. It was both warm and cold in my hands. When he accepted my offer, I beamed.

"Will you have one, too?"

I removed a muffin of my own and without guilt or hesitation, unwrapped it and took a bite.