Chapter Fifteen
Piper finds the knitting group at a table in the back of the inn’s restaurant, near a crackling fireplace. Piper’s the last
one to arrive, but Maggie saved her a seat. She hopes her mother isn’t upset with her for being MIA the past two hours.
Hannah Elise was absolutely right: Posting the knitting content gives her a sense of control; she served the algorithm gods
an offering in hopes they soon bury her viral runway fall.
“Nice of you to make an appearance,” Maggie says.
Okay, so she is upset with her.
Bottles of wine are set along the length of the long table, and Maggie is already pouring herself another glass. A waiter
hands Piper a menu of craft cocktails. Kalli, to her right, is drinking something that smells like bourbon and spiced apple.
Across the table, Lexi and Dove sip amber-colored beer. Piper decides she’ll stick with wine and pours herself a glass of
merlot.
Laurel is on Maggie’s opposite side. Piper finds it curious that the best friends aren’t sitting together, but maybe she’s
envious of their secure attachment. God forbid Mom and me aren’t glued at the hip. Then she feels guilty for the ungrateful thought. She turns to Maggie.
“Mom, sorry I ran off with Hannah Elise. But honestly, it felt good to have fun and post stuff that has nothing to do with work.”
She tries not to think about Gretchen’s voicemail. Her mother would be upset to know she’s ignoring a message from her manager.
Former manager. And she doesn’t need Maggie’s input when she’s wrestling with her own mixed feelings.
“Well, I’m glad you didn’t delete your accounts after all. I’m telling you, what happened Wednesday night is going to blow
over. It will be like it never happened.”
Maggie probably feels the sting of Piper’s failure as much as she feels it herself. That’s always been the double-edged sword
of their closeness. And the older Piper gets, the sharper that edge feels.
Belinda stands up from her seat to address the table.
“Welcome to our opening-night festivities, everyone. I hope you’re all getting settled and that you’ve had some time to explore
our beautiful little town. As I mentioned earlier, one of my retreat traditions is taking a group photo.”
Belinda’s husband appears with a digital camera. Max seems to be in his seventies, possibly a little older than Belinda. He’s
medium height with a slender build, thick gray hair and deep-set brown eyes.
“I hope you’ll indulge me for a moment while my husband, Max, immortalizes our little ensemble. And I’d like to point out
that one very special knitter has made it into every photo: Let’s hear it for Sheila.”
The table breaks out into applause. Piper stays seated, but half the table gets up to fit into the frame, shuffling around
for position and debating who’s too tall for what spot.
“Say—we love yarn,” Max says once they’ve found a configuration that works. Maggie looks at him, her arm around Piper’s shoulder,
and smiles. Okay, so they’re all good.
Everyone returns to their seats and the hum of conversation resumes. Beside her, Kalli hunches over to tap away on the phone she’s half hiding under the table. Then, sensing her gaze, Kalli looks up.
“Sorry,” Piper says, though she’s not sure why she’s apologizing.
“No, I’m being antisocial,” Kalli says, shoving the phone away in her bag. “So—you and your mom having fun so far?”
Piper can tell the brightness in her tone is forced.
“Yeah. It’s great. How about you and Laurel?”
Kalli glances across the table at her friend.
“As far as knitting? Hands-down the best workshops. And we’ve been to Vogue Knits Live twice.”
“And the non-knitting?” she says.
Kalli starts to say something, then stops herself. When she finally speaks, she says, “This trip was Laurel’s idea. A girls’
weekend, a ‘get your head straight’ weekend. But she’s annoyed that my head isn’t in the place she thinks it should be, so
we’re arguing.”
“You mean, you’re not into the knitting as much as she is?”
“I wish it was that simple. Long story short, I’m getting divorced and she wants this weekend to be the start of me moving
on. I want that too. But we have different ideas of what moving on should look like.”
Piper nods. Kalli doesn’t look that much older than she is. And she’s already getting divorced? She hopes Maggie doesn’t hear
the story. It will just validate her anxiety over Piper getting so serious with Ethan.
“How long have you been married?”
“Three years. But we’ve been together since high school. So—a long time. And it’s a big deal because I’m the first in my family
to get divorced.”
“Really? No one in your family has ever gotten divorced?”
“I’m Greek,” she says, as if that explains it.
Piper sees the waiter taking orders at the opposite end of the table and she scans the menu. The main courses are hearty and
locally sourced, dishes of braised meat and roasted root vegetables.
Beside her, Maggie orders the wild mushroom risotto and goes right back to talking to Laurel. Piper hopes her mother is genuinely
engaged in the conversation and not trying to make a point of ignoring her. Her mother isn’t usually passive-aggressive, but
something seems to be making her extra sensitive this weekend.
By the time the entrées are served, several cocktails later, Kalli shares the story of her failed marriage: Apparently, she
met someone else, fell madly in love and realized she’d never experienced it before.
“And once I experienced real love and, yeah, passion, I couldn’t go back.”
“I get it,” Piper says. “So now you’re with the other guy? The man you actually love?” Piper says.
Kalli shakes her head. “No. I ended things with him back when I still thought I should save my marriage. And by the time I
tried to get him back, he wanted nothing to do with the whole situation. I guess I can’t blame him. But I’ve been pretty messed
up over the whole thing,” Kalli says, her eyes glassy. “And so . . . the knitting retreat.” She raises her near-empty glass
to toast Piper, and she dutifully raises her own.
“To mistakes,” Kalli says. “To living and learning.”
“To living and learning,” Piper says.
Maybe her mother has a point. It could be a mistake to settle down too young. Ethan’s second thoughts—if he is, in fact, having
second thoughts—might be doing them both a favor.
Still—it hurts.
Maggie is seated next to Laurel, and the two strike up a conversation over dinner.
She learns that Laurel and Kalli are both teachers in a nearby local school district—Kalli at Lenape Middle School in Doylestown, Laurel at Central Bucks West. And that they’ve been friends since their days at those same schools.
“Do you want to switch seats with Piper so you can sit next to one another?” Maggie offers.
“No,” Laurel says. “But thanks.”
The vehemence in her voice when she says no tells Maggie that the two of them are in an argument. Maggie can relate; she herself
nearly started a fight with Piper over her ditching her and then being the last one to show up for the group dinner. But she
knew she was probably being overly emotional, possibly even irrational. That it was the fear again.
She turns to look at Piper, vivacious and chatting away with Kalli, and experiences a warm rush of love for her daughter.
Beside her, Laurel orders another cocktail.
“I know it’s none of my business,” Maggie says, “but if you two are fighting over something, whatever it is, it’s not worth
it.”
Laurel nods. “So it’s that obvious?”
Maggie smiles with empathy.
One of the waiters reappears for their dinner order, and she asks for the mushroom risotto. She hears Piper order the roasted
chicken.
“Can I ask you something?” Laurel says. “Have you ever had to sit back and watch someone you really care about do something
colossally stupid? And there’s nothing you can do about it?” Her eyes look teary.
Maggie nods. “Absolutely. But the trick is, that’s when you need to stay even closer—not pull away.”
Maggie can’t resist mentally patting herself on the back for this bit of wisdom, because she’s been following her own advice: As much as she disapproves of Piper focusing more on her boyfriend than on her career, she hasn’t let that come between them.
If anything, Maggie’s been working even harder to spend time with her.
She turns back to Piper, to tell her how happy she is that they’re away together for the weekend, but Piper is standing up
with the phone pressed to her ear.
“Where are you going?” Maggie says to her back, a question Piper either doesn’t hear or ignores. But before Maggie has a moment
to register this latest irritation, Belinda slides into Piper’s freshly vacated seat.
“Maggie, I hope you haven’t had any more aggravation from the bachelor party,” she says. Maggie feels sheepish, wondering
if Belinda heard about her little tantrum at the lunch table.
“Oh, it’s all fine. I shouldn’t have made a big deal out of it. Really. I’m sorry.”
Maggie finds herself looking over at the bar where she’d sat talking to Aidan Danby. It had been fun chatting in the moment,
but now she regrets having given him her number. The whole bushcraft/knitting challenge is fun in theory, but she’s not actually
going to go through with it.
“Don’t be sorry. I understand completely. My goal is always to provide a tranquil, intimate experience at the retreat. Somehow
this weekend, my husband and I got our signals crossed.”
“No problem. Really. I understand. I mean, I’m not married. But if I were, I’m sure I’d get my signals crossed too.”
“How long have you been divorced, if you don’t mind my asking?” Belinda says.
“Oh—I’ve never been married. It’s just Piper and me.”
“Well, aren’t we flip sides of the same coin: I don’t have children. It’s just Max and me. Anyway, we typically have an agreement: On my retreat weekends, none of the other rooms are booked.”
Maggie feels terrible she made an issue out of it in the first place, and hopes she didn’t cause problems between Belinda
and her husband.
“Really, it’s fine. In fact, I was talking to one of them earlier. Seems like a decent guy.”
Belinda looks happy. “Now, that’s nice to hear! I always hope the retreat members end up becoming friendly, but I didn’t dare
hope for some cross-pollination with the bachelor party. Who’d you end up chatting with?”
Maggie tells her Aidan’s name, and Belinda nods. “I’ve known the Danby boys—Aidan and his son, Cole—for quite some time.”
“You have?”
“Well, yes,” Belinda says, as if it’s obvious. “He’s local. This is a small town. I know Aidan’s father-in-law, the cousins.
Never met his late wife, though. That was before we moved here.”
Late wife.
“Oh. Well, we have a little friendly competition going,” Maggie says. “A bet.” She explains the challenge Aidan posed to her.
“I’d pay money to see one of those men with a set of knitting needles,” Belinda says with a wink. “Feel free to bring him
to any workshop I’m teaching.”
Maggie smiles. Maybe it’s not the worst idea after all.
And maybe it will shake things up enough to keep Piper’s attention. She’s willing to chalk today off as a bumpy start. But
tomorrow . . . let the bonding begin.
She can’t wait to tell Piper.