Chapter Thirty
Piper checks her phone as soon as she wakes up, but there are no updates from Maggie. And so, alone in the room, she sits
in bed knitting small animal blankets she started last night.
When the sun comes up, she checks the Bucks Tavern breakfast service hours, and she throws on the jeans she’s been wearing
all weekend before making her way down to the lobby. She texts Ethan to call her when he’s up. Still no word from Maggie.
Since she was alone in her tent when they spoke late last night, Piper assumes there was no love connection with Aidan Danby.
Cole will be disappointed. And on the topic of Cole: She’s still thinking about Kalli’s surprise appearance, and the story
of their romance. If they can work out their complicated situation, she has no excuse not to clear the air with Ethan. When
she gets back to New York, she’ll just confess about finding the ring and ask him if he’s having second thoughts. It’s as
simple as that. If he says he’s reconsidered taking that step, fine. It’s better to know.
The restaurant is quiet; the only person she sees from the retreat is Sheila, who gives a wave from the self-serve coffee
bar. She’s dressed in a crochet muumuu with tassels at the ends of her sleeves.
“We missed you last night at karaoke,” Sheila calls out.
“Thanks. I probably should have gone with you and the rest of the group. I planned to go to sleep early and that didn’t happen.”
Sheila shares some details of the evening while Piper navigates the coffee bar. She pours herself a medium roast and stirs
in a scoop of brown sugar. Across the room, Cole ambles in and heads straight for a corner table. His hair is mussed like
he just rolled out of bed, which is no doubt the case.
“Lexi and Dove will be down any minute,” Sheila says. “I think Dove is almost ready to forgive Lexi for spending the afternoon
axe-throwing yesterday. And are we finished with that, by the way? Because I don’t know if their honeymoon can survive another
day of competition.” She gives Piper a wink. “But I’m not going to complain about a little male company.”
“I’m not sure about the status of the whole bushcraft/knitting thing. But there’s Cole Danby over there. I’ll ask him.”
Sheila adds whipped cream to her coffee. “Okay, doll. Report back.”
Piper gives her a thumbs-up that says, Will do. She pours a second cup of coffee for Cole and carries it to his table. He’s on his phone and doesn’t notice her until she’s
pulling out the chair across from him.
“Hey,” she says, slipping into the seat and sliding one of the mugs across the table.
He looks up, his under-eyes the color of a bruise.
“Hey,” he says. “Oh—thanks. I need this.”
“You look like it.”
He yawns. “I didn’t get much sleep.”
“Spare me the details, please.”
He shakes his head. “That’s not what I meant. Any word from Maggie this morning?”
“Not yet.” She takes a sip from her mug, wondering why the coffee here tastes so much better. “The last I spoke to her she was in a panic about dangerous animals lurking in the woods. She said she heard strange noises.”
“Sounds potentially fatal,” he says. “Luckily, my father’s out there to fend off any beasts of the wild. Do you know the human
brain can’t distinguish between love and fear?”
She’s never heard that. “No. But if that’s true, I’m sorry to say that’s the closest she got to love last night. When we spoke
she was in her tent—alone.”
Cole takes a swig of the coffee. “Not surprising.”
“Not surprising? I thought you said you thought there was something happening between the two of them. That was the whole
point of you asking me to hang back myself last night.”
“Maybe it was just wishful thinking.”
She feels a stab of disappointment.
“Look,” he says, “my dad met my mother when he was around our age, and that was it. And then after she died, he never even
brought another woman around. Not once.”
Piper is surprised. “He never dated again? I mean, it’s been a long time.”
“I’m sure there’ve been women,” Cole says. “I’m not naive. But he never brought anyone home to be part of our family life.”
A server stops by to hand them menus. Piper isn’t hungry.
“You gonna order?” she asks him. She pulls one of her animal-blankets-in-progress out of her tote. It’s still on the needles
and she holds it up, careful not to let the stitches slide off.
“Maybe. I’m not a big breakfast person, but there’s time to kill until the rest of the guys get back from the campground.
What’re you making there?”
“It’s a blanket to donate to the animal refuge,” she says. “I knit a few last night. When I worked at the shelter back home, I used to line the cages with them to make them cozy. I was thinking I could drop them off at BARR sometime before the end of the weekend.”
“I’m sure Denise would appreciate that a lot.” He checks his phone. “Wanna stop by before everyone gets back here? We can
see how your bird is doing.”
She’d been thinking about the fledgling. And there’s still over an hour before the first class, Flawless Finish. At that point,
she doesn’t even know if her mother will be making it back in time for the workshop.
“Sure,” she says. “Let’s go.”
Belinda is working the front desk because they’re short-staffed. Ordinarily, she doesn’t mind desk duty, but it’s the last
full day of the retreat and she hates to miss the entire breakfast hour. And Max can’t help out because he headed to Philadelphia
to look at the town house she doesn’t want.
The front desk phone rings, a caller asking about availability for a spring wedding. Belinda can’t bring herself to admit—not
to herself, and not to the caller—that the New Hope Inn might not exist in the spring. Who knows what a buyer might do with
the place?
“Let me take your information and have our manager get back to you this afternoon.” The manager being herself. Really, she
has to wonder if he’s truly thought this through. Sure, a big move—a big change—is attractive, like a wink from a stranger.
But after the novelty wears off, Max will remember how much of their day-to-day lives is entwined with the inn. And by then
it will be too late.
Maybe today, the simple act of discussing a spring wedding would be enough to reset the conversation.
If money is the sole motivation for the sale, maybe they can explore ways to increase revenue.
If he needs more time off, they can work that out too.
There must be a compromise to be found somewhere.
“Excuse me.”
Belinda looks up to find a fair-skinned woman with inky black hair wearing an eggplant-colored leather trench coat. Her lipstick
matches the coat.
“Good morning. How can I help you?” Belinda says. Maybe she’s an actress trying to find the playhouse next door.
“I’m looking for Piper Hodges. Can you ring up to her room?”
This gives Belinda pause. She can’t disclose guest information. And in all the years she’s been at the inn, this policy has
never been tested. The dilemma must show on her face, because the woman adds, “I’m Gretchen Lundgren, her manager. She told
me she’s here.”
Belinda tries the Margaret Mead landline, but no one answers.
“I can’t reach Piper is at the moment. But you’re welcome to have a seat and wait. Or try her cell phone?”
The woman lets out an impatient sigh. “If Piper were answering her phone, I wouldn’t be standing here talking to you.” Then,
recognizing the sharpness in her tone, says, “I’m sorry. But this is time-sensitive business.” With that, she turns and walks
over to the seats closest to the fireplace.
Belinda reaches for her own phone. She doesn’t have Piper’s number, but she does have Maggie’s. She gives her a call—not for
the manager’s sake, but for her own.
Something tells her this is something Maggie would want to know about. Immediately.
Maggie wakes up aching and stiff in her sleeping bag. She can tell, before she even moves, that her back will be punishing
her for this. But the night was worth it. Who needs mobility?
She inches up on her elbows and looks over at Aidan.
He’s still asleep in his camping quilt. Sunshine streams down from the clear plastic skylight in the top of the tent, and she takes the moment to look at him without being self-conscious.
For once, she doesn’t have to pretend not to notice how handsome he is.
She sees the light auburn in his stubble and resists the urge to reach out and touch it.
The minute he kissed her, she realized how very much she liked him, and that the feelings had been brewing since Friday night
at the bar. Feelings strong enough that she had sex in a tent. A first for her. It feels like something she might have experienced
in her twenties if her life had taken a different turn. The fact that it happened now, at her age, feels like a gift from
the universe.
She reached over slowly, careful to avoid any abrupt movements that might wake him, and drags her handbag closer by the strap.
When it’s within reach, she reaches inside and pulls out her NARS compact. She has bedhead (tent head?) and her lips look
red and chapped. That, she knows, isn’t from the cold. It’s from all the kissing they did last night. She hasn’t kissed like
that in years. The thought gives her a delicious little shiver.
Aidan stirs and she immediately looks away, concerned that somehow her gaze silently disturbed him.
“Hey,” he says.
“Hi,” she says.
“We survived the night.”
“No bear attacks,” she says, smiling. “But thank you for sticking around just in case.”
“Well, when you put it that way, I feel a little used,” he says, grinning back at her.
Her phone rings. She glances down, certain it’s Piper checking in on her. But it’s Belinda.
Strange. She mentally runs through the day’s itinerary. Is she late for something?
She flashes the phone screen at Aidan, mouthing odd, before answering.
“Hi, Belinda,” she says. “Everything okay?”
“Yes, I’m actually trying to reach Piper but I don’t have her number.”
Maggie’s confused. “Why do you need Piper?”
“There’s a woman here . . . says she’s her manager?”
Maggie sits up all the way. “What do you mean by here?”
“Standing in the lobby. With a very impatient look on her face.”
What the hell is happening? There must be some mistake.
“Can you put her on the phone?”
She hears the thunk of the landline receiver on the hard wooden desk, and then muffled background noise. After a moment, a
strange voice says, “This is Gretchen.”
After all the years of hearing about Gretchen, after the giant opportunity she gave her daughter, this is the first she’s
ever spoken to her. She imagined one day when she met Gretchen she’d have the opportunity to thank her. Somehow, she feels
like instead she’s going to be dealing with something unpleasant and messy.
She texts Piper.
Call me ASAP!!
“Gretchen, this is Maggie Hodges, Piper’s mother. Is there a problem?” She keeps her eyes on her phone for a response from
Piper. Nothing.
“Yes, there’s a problem. I have a job for her, and she’s not returning my calls.”
What? There must be a misunderstanding. Piper would never blow off her manager. At least, not on purpose. But then, Gretchen was no longer her manager. None of this makes sense,
Maggie looks at her phone, willing a response from Piper. Still nothing.
“Gretchen, if you can just wait there for a few minutes,” Maggie says, already looking around for her jeans. “I’ll find Piper.”