Chapter Twelve
Aidan and Cole stand with the rest of the party on the outskirts of the nearby state park. Aidan, having lived his whole life
in the area, knows the terrain well. It’s a mix of woody forest, open fields and the riverbank. The sun is shining and it’s
warm for October. A perfect day to be in the great outdoors. And judging from his outburst at lunch, Cole needs the time to
decompress.
Barclay, assuming the role of bushcraft guide, gathers them around and addresses them like they’re a bunch of troops. He’s
fully committing to his leadership role, dressed in an army-green all-weather jacket, brown tactical boots and wraparound
black sunglasses.
“I’m sure every one of you standing here considers yourself handy, capable, and self-reliant. But if you stop and really think
about it, those beliefs are contingent on certain conditions we take for granted: Food. Shelter. Hell, having our phones.
Bushcraft is about sustaining yourself using only what nature provides.”
One of Scott’s friends makes a crack about nature providing him with “plenty to work with” with an accompanying lewd hand gesture. But the laughter comes to a quick stop when Barclay announces he’s collecting everyone’s phone for the duration of the activity.
“True survival skills mean relying on your own strength—mental and physical,” he says.
Aidan glances at Cole, who’s staring straight ahead. His expression is unreadable, and Aidan suspects his mind is somewhere
else entirely.
“We don’t have technology in the wilderness, but we can have tools. Starting with something simple but possibly lifesaving:
a reliable compass,” Barclay says, holding up an old-fashioned copper variety. “And, again—don’t let me hear you say you have
an app on your phone for that. Phones run out of batteries. They can get ruined in water. Phones offer a false sense of security.”
Nearby, a stream rushes with a faint burble, and Aidan remembers taking Cole to find salamanders in the very spot as a child.
“A compass is not just about general directions—you can use the sun for that. A compass’s main value is helping you avoid
lateral drift. Does anyone here know what lateral drift means?”
No one says anything. Without their phones to look up the phrase, Aidan suspects no one will. He’s pretty sure Cole knows
the answer, but he’s staring off into the distance.
One of Scott’s fraternity brothers finally pipes up, explaining that it’s impossible to walk a straight line over a long distance
without having an object in sight that you’re walking toward.
“You got that, Cole?” Barclay says, pointedly calling him out.
“Got it,” Cole says, expressionless. Detached.
What is going on with him? Since they work together, Aidan gets to spend more time with his adult son than most fathers. But
he still has no clue what’s going on.
Aidan was pleasantly surprised two years ago when Cole informed him, after graduating cum laude from Villanova University, that he wanted to join him in Danby Markets.
For a while, it seemed like Cole was going to pursue a law career.
And sure, Aidan would have been proud to tell everyone his son was an attorney.
But he was even more proud when Cole changed his mind and joined him in the grocery business.
It was something he’d hoped for, but never pushed.
Aidan believes it’s important to have a job you care about, one that gives you a reason to get out of bed in the morning.
In the first few years after Nancy’s death, work was his lifeline.
Sure, he had parenthood. But work gave him a sense of control.
Maybe Cole feels touchy this weekend because Scott and all his friends have white-collar jobs. But why would that bother him?
The grocery business has been lucrative, and Cole had always been proud of his work. But something’s got him on edge. That’s
evident.
Barclay passes out analog compasses.
“What we have here is an extensive trail system, including the Towpath Trail, which runs for miles along the river.”
By now, Scott’s wise-cracking fraternity brothers are paying close attention, and probably regretting the fourth and fifth
beers at lunch.
What an odd meal. First, Cole and Scott snapping at each other. Then, that brunette barreling over to the table. Very attractive.
But clearly neurotic as hell.
Maybe that’s why Cole is in a bad mood. Aidan is pretty sure Cole had a breakup a few months ago. Maybe he’d been looking
forward to a guys’ weekend and there they were, surrounded by a bunch of women. Or, as Barclay put it after the lunchtime
confrontation, “Harping women.”
Raising Cole alone, every weekend had been guys’ weekend.
Aidan hasn’t had a significant woman in his life since his wife died.
Back when Cole was in high school, at the urging of his friends, he tried to date.
At one point, he actually met someone he could see himself with long-term.
But at the seven-month mark, the holidays rolled around and the thought of taking her to the Cavanaughs for Christmas made him shudder.
It wasn’t the Cavanaughs’ fault—they only wanted him to be happy.
He knew that. But he also felt that as a single father, he had to put family first. And a new woman would always be a piece of the puzzle that didn’t quite fit.
It wouldn’t be fair to her. And maybe not fair to Cole. It just didn’t feel right.
“I think you’re punishing yourself,” said the overpriced therapist he’d reluctantly agreed to go see. That didn’t last long.
And no, he didn’t feel guilty about Nancy’s death—he had nothing to do with the rare cancer that interrupted their lives so
mercilessly. And he didn’t feel guilty about being alive while she was gone. It was more complicated than that.
“Grandson, is that a phone?” Barclay looks at Cole, who shoves something back into his jacket pocket.
Cole didn’t hand over his phone when they were collected?
“What’s going on?” Aidan whispers.
“It’s still a weekday,” Cole says.
Aidan wants to believe it’s just a strong work ethic making Cole violate the spirit of the afternoon. But he’s not so sure.
He gives him a nudge, and Cole hands his phone over to Barclay.
“Our first exercise is collecting materials to build a lean-to shelter. We won’t have time today to build an entire structure, but the assignment is to gather material as if we must do so with a ticking clock—sunset’s in two and a half hours.
So we’re splitting up into two groups that we’re gonna called Team Boone and Team Crockett—named of course for the two greatest outdoorsman that ever walked this fine earth.
Now, fellas, choose your team partners wisely.
Because to keep things interesting, we’re awarding points for every activity this weekend, and the team with the most points on Sunday wins the weekend. ”
There are hoots and hollers. And then Barclay opens one of his backpacks and hands out T-shirts that read, “Scott’s Bushcraft
Bachelor Party” on the front and “Win the Weekend” on the back. Even though it’s chilly, everyone sheds their coats to change
into their T-shirts. Cole is the only one who doesn’t, instead folding the shirt into his own knapsack.
Barclay goes on to explain the rules and points system, and Aidan’s brother-in-law, Ritchie, taps him on the shoulder. “Partners?”
They fist bump. This is going to be fun.
“Your assignment, should you choose to accept,” Barclay says, a nod to Scott’s favorite movie franchise, Mission: Impossible. “Collect branches and twigs for a lean-to shelter. The team with the most viable materials wins.”
The group disbands as everyone heads off deeper into the woods.
“Dude, you can’t go one hour without your phone?” Scott says.
“I could. If it were for a good reason. I don’t think this qualifies.”
“Cole, what kind of attitude is that?” Aidan says, surprised.
“Oh, so you think this is stupid?” Scott says in a way that makes Aidan wonder if maybe Scott thinks it’s stupid. Maybe he
and Barclay are the only ones who think the bushcraft angle was a good idea. He hopes not.
“No,” Cole says in a tone Aidan knows all too well. Whatever he says next will be sarcastic. “I’ve been thinking recently
I really need to improve my fort-building skills.”
“Sure,” Scott says. “Since you’ve already mastered the skills of sneaking around and lying.”
Aidan doesn’t know who hits who first, but fists start flying, and the boys drop to the ground. He jumps in to pull Cole away from his cousin, and Ritchie does the same with Scott.
“Knock it off!” Aidan yells.
“What the hell is going on with you two?”
Cole brushes the dirt and twigs off his jeans. He shakes one hand, rubbing his wrist with his thumb. And he walks off without
another word. Aidan turns to Scott, and he just shrugs.
This isn’t the bonding weekend he’d had in mind.
When Piper spots the Bucks County Playhouse, she knows she’s almost reached the inn. She feels bad for ditching her mom, but
there will be plenty of time for togetherness later. Right now, she needs to deal with that phone call.
The lawn between the inn and the theater is dotted with red wooden Adirondack chairs. She sits in one facing the river and
the promenade. The sun shines on her face, and she tilts her chin up, giving herself a moment to enjoy the moment before dealing
with the unexpected voicemail from Gretchen. She can’t imagine why she’s calling Piper a day after firing her. Whatever it
is, she didn’t want to have the conversation in front of her mother. So she let it go to voicemail.
But now that she’s alone, she decides not to bother listening to the voicemail. If there’s paperwork or some exit bureaucracy,
she’ll deal with it when she gets back to the city. The whole point of a getaway is to actually get away.
In the distance, on the inn’s back terrace, Kalli and Laurel are drinking from mugs, bundled in cozy cardigans they no doubt
crafted themselves. They seem so relaxed and happy. She knows it’s what her mother wants for the two of them this weekend.
Piper wants that too.
She looks out at the water. The afternoon sunlight gives the river an amber sheen.
Flower beds filled with purple asters, fountain grass, stalks of small red berries and pinecones decorate the railing that runs the length of the promenade.
Across the river, an ornate spire topping a church reaches toward the blue sky.
And in the water, a gaggle of ducks paddles by.
“Excuse me,” someone says. She looks up. A tall guy with sandy-brown hair stands in front of her. Austin Butler from check-in.
“Sorry to bother you. You’re with the knitting group, right? I saw you in the lobby earlier.”
“Yeah. I’m with the group. You with the bachelor party?”
He nods. “Unfortunately. I’m Cole.”
“Piper,” she says.
“Listen, I know this sounds weird, but can I borrow your phone for a minute? My grandfather confiscated mine for this sort
of . . . outward bound situation we have going on. And I really need to make a quick call.”
She’s distracted by a fresh, angry-looking bruise on his right cheek.
“I think your face is bleeding,” she says.
“You should see the other guy.” He smiles, and she resists the impulse to tell him no, seriously, he’d better get some ice
on his cheek.
“So can I use your phone?” he says.
She hesitates.
“Look,” he says, “I’m not a psycho. I promise. My family is just a big pain in the ass. And I need to make a call.”
Fair enough. He seems harmless. Plus, he’s injured.
She hands over her phone.
“Thank you. You’re amazing. I’ll be right back.”
He turns toward the water and walks a few yards away.
She feels twitchy without her phone. The wind picks up, and she glances back at the inn.
Laura is still in her spot, but Kalli has moved to the promenade.
Laurel must sense her gaze, because she turns and gives her a wave.
Piper waves back, feeling a stab of guilt for ditching her mother.
Maybe she should head back to the walking tour after all.
She looks over at Cole, who’s turned away while he talks. And talks. He said a minute, but he doesn’t appear to be ending
his call anytime soon. This is ridiculous. She walks over to him, but he’s too wrapped up in his conversation to notice.
“I didn’t plan this, but I’m here. It is what it is. So let’s—”
Piper taps him on the shoulder and he stops talking.
“Sorry to interrupt, but I really need to get going,” she says. He nods, tells the person on the other end, “I’ll see you
later,” and then ends the call.
“Thanks,” he says, handing over the phone.
“No problem.”
They look at each other for a beat longer than necessary. She feels the frisson of unexpected chemistry.
“I have a boyfriend,” she blurts out.
He nods. “And I really just needed the phone.”
She feels herself flush with embarrassment.
“Right. Okay then—have a good . . . bachelor party.”
“Happy knitting,” he says.
She shakes her head, thinking, What was that? It was nothing, really. It’s probably displacement—all of her relationship anxiety and missing Ethan.
She walks back to the inn.
The lobby is warm and smells like chocolate. Piper looks around for the source of the delicious aroma, but doesn’t see any
food. And then she forgets all about the guy Cole and the scent of cocoa and everything else, because her phone suddenly feels
like a hundred-pound weight in her hand. Who is she kidding not listening to the voicemail? Of course she has to find out
why Gretchen called.
Across from the fireplace she spots an inviting, velvet-cushioned wingback chair. Settling into it, she takes one more glance around to make sure she has privacy. Aside from the man minding the front desk, she’s alone. Satisfied, she plays Gretchen’s message, pressing the phone to her ear.
“Piper, I’m so sorry our last meeting got off track. And if I said anything to offend you, I absolutely didn’t mean it. In
fact, I have some fabulous news, so give me a call back ASAP . . .”
She listens to it three times to make sure she isn’t missing something. The meeting “got off track”? That’s quite the euphemism
for firing her as a client. And as for the great news, Piper can only assume it’s a potential booking. Why else would Gretchen
backtrack like that?
But really, the reason doesn’t matter. Piper should be thrilled—overjoyed. She should be calling Gretchen back immediately.
But she isn’t.
And she doesn’t.
Instead, she turns the phone on Do Not Disturb and heads back to her room.