At a Mexican restaurant, Nicki and Margene cool their heels and wait for the event to end. Nicki asks conversationally, "What do you think you would have done if you hadn't married us?" Margene pauses for only a moment -- she has to finish her chips and salsa -- before saying, "Dating. Someone. Out of Utah, for sure." Nicki's surprised by this. Margene continues, "I like Portland." Nicki asks, "Oregon?" in the same tones someone else might say, "It's contagious?" Margene nods, and says, "Don't be so shocked. I had a friend, she opened up a bakery there. Said it was really nice -- people rode bikes everywhere, lots of water. She said I could work the counter..." Margene's voice trails off a little and you can tell she's remembering a time when going to Portland seemed entirely possible. Ah, man. Free Margene! Nicki asks, "And then you met Bill?' Margene smiles and says, with mingled love and wistfulness, "Yeah."
She digs for another chip -- hey, she's eating cilantro for two now -- and asks Nicki, "How about you?" Nicki was not destined for life as a winsome barista in the Rose City. She says, "Well, I probably would have been placed with a husband, on the compound." Margene sucks in her breath in horror, but to her credit, manages to keep her face mostly neutral as she says, "Wow." Nicki leans in and says, confidentially, "There was this one guy -- Jerry. I knew him for a long time, and he was nice enough. He was younger. I mean, you know, forties. He made some kind of overture to my father about me --" "You didn't want him," Margene says knowingly. Nicki gives a look that's meant to say a lot, and says calmly, "Sometimes, you don't get a lot of choice there." Margene takes that in, then asks, "Do you think fate brought you to Bill?" Nicki says, in that same casual tone, "Margie. I brought me to Bill."