Chapter Thirty-One
Aidan snuck back into his own tent before the other guys noticed he’d ever left. The one benefit of Maggie having to run off
back to the inn so early was that they both avoided a walk of shame.
For someone who always prides himself on being discreet, last night was a big risk. One he surprised himself by taking. Maybe
it was the whiskey, or maybe it was just the simple fact that he’s attracted to her. She’s beautiful, sure. But the world
is full of beautiful women. It’s more the connection he feels to her, how easy it is to talk about the one aspect of his life
that, after all these years, he still feels uncertain about: fatherhood.
Maggie’s situation with Piper is different in the details, but similar at the core: Single parenthood is a bitch. It’s isolating
as hell. Maggie gets it because she’s lived it.
That doesn’t excuse his behavior last night. The bushcraft weekend is to celebrate his nephew’s impending nuptials, not to
have a fling of his own.
He rolls up his camping quilt and shrugs off his jacket. The morning is warming up already. Bucks County in the fall is perfection.
“Uncle Aidan, you in there?” Scott calls out. Aidan can see his silhouette framed by sunlight outside the tent.
Aidan unzips the front tent flap and steps out into the sun, shielding his eyes with his hands.
“Morning, Scott.”
“My dad’s still asleep, but I’m heading back to the inn for breakfast with my friends.”
“No foraging? I’m sure your grandfather has ideas about finding some berries or something around here.”
“Good one. Nah, we’re hunting down some pancakes. But I wanted to talk to you before we go.” He looks around the tent. “So
Cole never showed up last night.”
“No. He didn’t. He’s just dealing with some stuff. It’s nothing personal.” He puts his hands on his nephew’s shoulders. He
hates to think of Scott and Cole at odds. Family is too important.
“This is messed up, Uncle Aidan.”
“Like I said—it’s not personal.”
“I know exactly what it is.” He takes a step closer to Aidan, lowering his voice even more. He nods toward the tent. “Let’s
talk for a minute.”
Aidan turns back and opens the entry flap, holding it for Scott. “After you.” He follows him inside. Really, he just wants
coffee. But he’s gotta clear this business out of the way first.
“So, what’s on your mind, Scott?”
“Grandpa told you about Cole and the married woman.”
“To an extent. I don’t know the details and I don’t want to know. It’s not really our business. From what I understand, Cole
did the right thing. The relationship is over. So, let’s all just move on. It’s certainly nothing for you two to fight about.”
“Don’t you want to know how I found out about it?
” Scott says. Clearly, he wants to tell him.
But Aidan’s had enough of this. “The only reason I even know about it is because my fiancée works at the same school as the woman he’s had the affair with.
She’s friends with the woman’s husband from college. ”
Aidan is losing his patience. “Again, not our business.”
“Well, Cole made it my business. Or maybe it’s a coincidence, but I don’t buy that. She’s here this weekend. She’s part of
the knitting retreat.”
Aidan isn’t sure he’s heard him right. He has to let that sink in for a few seconds.
“Who?”
“Kalli Dimitrou.”
The dark-haired woman. No wonder Cole was so enthusiastic about taking the knitting class. And he’s the one who chose seats
at that table next to her yesterday.
“Tell me everything,” Aidan says.
The coffee will have to wait.
Maggie has no idea what Piper’s manager is doing in New Hope, but she welcomes the excuse to slip away from the campsite early
and discreetly. A one-night stand is not respectable behavior for a mother-daughter weekend. She doesn’t need the whole rest
of the inn to know about it. She’ll ’fess up to Piper, though. That is, if she ever gets to talk to her again. She still isn’t
answering her phone or the hotel room.
By the time Maggie reaches the inn, she’s starting to worry. Belinda is behind the front desk and tells her, “Your visitor
is right over there.” She nods her head to a seating area just off the main floor, where Gretchen Lundgren sits in a paisley
wingback chair next to a wall of framed historical prints. With her stark hair and leather trench, the fashion executive looks
more like a futuristic visitor. A character out of The Matrix.
Gretchen Lundgren looks up as Maggie approaches and introduces herself. The woman stands, revealing herself to be tiny.
“Apologies for intruding on your trip,” she says. “But Piper is ignoring my messages and I need an answer.”
Maggie’s confused. “I’m sorry, I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Gretchen looks at her with undisguised irritation. “I’d like to talk to Piper.”
“Of course,” Maggie says, flustered. “I’m sorry she never got back to you. She might just need a weekend off.”
“Don’t we all,” Gretchen says. “But Piper has a brief window to turn failure into opportunity. I understand she’s probably
embarrassed, but she’s got to dust herself off and get back out there.”
It’s Maggie’s fault. She’s the one who insisted on the weekend getaway. She didn’t imagine there’d be work for her so soon
after falling on the runway.
“She told me you fired her as a client.”
Gretchen gives an impatient wave, like batting away an insect, and mutters something under her breath. Maggie again dials
Piper’s number and it goes straight to voicemail. Gretchen is now also busy tapping away on her phone.
“I’m sure she’ll be here any minute,” Maggie says. “Why don’t we go have coffee?”
“Coffee would be nice,” Gretchen says with a tight smile.
Maggie leads her through the lobby to the interior entrance to Bucks Tavern, where she finds the knitting gang at one big
table. It seems almost everyone is there except for Piper. And no one knows where she is. Sheila’s the only one who saw her
this morning, but only briefly.
A host seats the two of them at a table near the self-serve coffee station.
Maggie’s mind is racing. Maybe Piper is avoiding Gretchen on purpose since she fired her.
She’s probably distrustful. But when she floats that idea to Gretchen, she says, “I apologized to Piper for my lapse in judgment. And I’ll continue to apologize.
But in the meantime, there’s an opportunity on the table.
Real money. And I don’t like to lose out on money. I’m hoping she feels the same.”
The more she hears, the less any of it makes sense. Why would Piper blow off a second chance with Gretchen? The answer is,
she wouldn’t. She must be avoiding her phone for another reason, and Gretchen fell through the cracks. Maybe Piper’s taking
some space from Ethan. That’s a possibility.
“I’m sure there’s an explanation for all this,” Maggie says.
Gretchen isn’t listening. Her eyes are locked on something behind Maggie.
“I recognize that woman,” Gretchen says. Maggie turns. The only person she sees is Hannah Elise, sitting at the far end of
the bar working a pair of needles, a trail of yarn unspooling from her bag. She’s wearing a fabulous, distinctly Hannah Elise
outfit: crocheted pants of contrasting textures and colors paired with a simple white T-shirt and elbow-length knit arm warmers.
“The knitter? With the curly hair?” Maggie says.
“Yes. She’s the one in the videos.”
“What videos?”
“Piper’s social. Her posts. Do you know her?” Gretchen says.
Maggie nods. “She’s an instructor here.”
“Can you introduce me?”
Maggie welcomes any distraction while they wait for Piper. Hannah Elise doesn’t look up from her crochet even when they’re
standing right beside her. She’s absorbed in her craft, her hands moving with speed and confidence, her posture straight,
her face relaxed and content.
“Hi, Hannah Elise—good morning,” Maggie says.
She looks up.
“Hey, Maggie. You and Piper coming to my Shetland Hap workshop?”
“Yep. We’ll be there.”
Beside her, Gretchen clears her throat.
“Um, Hannah, this is Gretchen Lundgren,” Maggie says. “Gretchen, this is Hannah Elise, one of the instructors here.”
Gretchen extends her hand. “I’m with GMI Management.”
Hannah Elise’s eyes widen.
“I noticed your video with Piper Hodges,” Gretchen says. “You made me want to drop everything and pick up a crochet hook.
And I have zero interest in knitting,” she continues. “So I checked out your account. You have an impressive following.”
Hannah Elise beams. “Thank you!”
The bartender appears with a latte for Hannah Elise. It’s embellished with a foam pumpkin design.
“And you have a great look,” Gretchen says. “Have you ever considered modeling?”
Maggie’s can’t believe what she’s hearing. It’s almost as if she witnessed Ethan hitting on another woman. Well, not exactly.
But still: Piper doesn’t return a few phone calls and Gretchen is ready to move on?
“Excuse me for a minute. I’m going to call Piper again.”
She walks briskly back to the lobby and by the time she reaches the front desk she hears raised voices. There, right in the
curve of the room just before the stairs come into view, she sees Kalli and Aidan’s nephew Scott arguing. She had no idea
they even knew one another; it’s the first time she’s seen them interact all weekend.
Scott isn’t particularly tall—certainly not compared to Aidan and Cole. But he still towers over Kalli, and her body language suggests she’s shrinking back away from him, her arms crossed protectively in front of herself while she says, emphatically, “It wasn’t planned!”
“I don’t believe you,” Scott says.
“Why is this your business?”
“It’s my bachelor party. And he’s my family.”
Belinda is no longer behind the front desk. So if anyone’s going to intervene, it’s going to be Maggie. She walks over to
the two of them and stands close enough to reach out and touch Scott.
“Excuse me,” she says. “Everything okay here?” She looks pointedly between the two of them. Kalli’s face is flushed. Scott
crosses his arms now too.
“Everything’s fine,” he says, looking at her. “Is my uncle with you?”
“No,” she says, feeling herself blush.
Kalli turns and walks away to the stairwell. Scott shakes his head and walks in the opposite direction, leaving Maggie standing
alone and wondering what she just interrupted.
Then she remembers why she wanted to be alone in the lobby in the first place. She dials Piper and it again goes straight
to voicemail.
“Piper, I don’t know what’s going on with you, but you have to call me back. I’m getting upset.”
There are moments in life that are like highway signs. If you’re paying attention, they let you know when to get on or off
the road.
At the animal shelter, Piper and Cole check their bags and phones at the door.
He chats up another person he’s friendly with, while she follows Denise to the back.
She’s delighted to see all the soulful eyes peeking out from cages, the air marked by the distinct scent of fur and feathers.
She experiences a deep twinge, something like homesickness.
She experienced something similar yesterday when they first walked in, but hadn’t fully understood it. Now she does.
“This is so generous of you,” Denise says, unfolding one of the blankets and showing a colleague.
Denise leads her to the birdcage where the baby sparrow is recovering. He hops around a makeshift nest of dried leaves and
twigs.
“He’s healthy,” Denise says. “The leg you told us about wasn’t an injury. That’s a natural stance for hatchlings this young.
But you did the right thing bringing him in—he was completely vulnerable to predators on the ground.”
“So tell me what’s next for our little guy here?” she says.
While Denise explains the process of easing him back into the wild, Piper’s distracted by the movement of a sleek-looking
cat roaming a cage. With its leopard-like coat, it appears to be a Bengal. This particular one has eyes like green glass and
a penetrating gaze.
“Wow,” Piper says. It’s only the second time she’s seen a Bengal in real life, and the last time hadn’t been this close. She’s
seen one loose in Central Park, the tragic dumping ground for a lot of Manhattan pets. “That’s a Bengal, right?” Piper says.
Denise turns to look at the cat. “That’s Roxie. Yeah, she’s a beauty. A family brought her in last week. They found her wandering
near the canal. They tried to keep her, but she was aggressive with the kids.”
She walks toward the Bengal and Piper follows her. “It’s hard to see her confined to a cage,” Piper says. Bengals are particularly
high-energy cats, and there’s no room in the space for a climbing tree or anything to give it exercise.
“I know. After we rehab her injured leg, we’re going to find a home for her.”
“Hey there, Roxie girl,” Piper says. The cat looks at her with something like disgust. She stands straight and regal, those remarkable eyes unblinking.
Piper feels a strong pull to the animal.
It’s like that sometimes—a mix of curiosity and affection that gives her an overwhelming need to connect with them.
“When there aren’t any other animals or birds loose, I try to let her stretch her legs a bit. We can try that now.” Denise
opens the cage and the cat emerges gingerly. Piper sits on the ground and makes soft clucking sounds, hoping the creature
will come close enough to pet her. It’s a long shot, but she wants to try.
“You can give her one of these,” Denise says, handing her a cat treat. Piper takes it from her, but before she can unwrap
it the cat is walking slowly toward her, pupils dilated, in playful hunt mode. Piper drums her fingers on the floor to entice
the cat to pounce on them, and she does. Then Roxie slinks closer to Piper.
“Hi, beautiful girl,” she says. The cat walks onto her lap and she finishes opening the treat, and holds the plastic wrapper
out so Roxie can lick the creamy salmon concoction. After she devours the first bit, Piper pulls the treat back to squeeze
more to the top, and before she realizes it Roxie is in her face taking a big swipe at her. Piper doesn’t feel the scratch
at first, but when she realizes what’s happened she touches her cheek and sees blood on her fingertips.
“Oh! Jesus, let me see that,” Denise says, rushing over. “Are you okay? I’m so sorry.”
“I’m fine,” she says, “Don’t be upset with the cat. It was just an accident.”
Except: wasn’t an accident.
Five minutes ago, she didn’t fully understand why she’d been avoiding Gretchen. But it’s because she knows she wants to tell
her, Thanks but no thanks. And a part of her—a big part—is afraid she won’t go through with it. So she’s doing nothing. Except putting her face in front of that feral cat wasn’t nothing.
Cole walks in, sees her sitting on the floor and bleeding, and says, “Damn, Hodges. I can’t leave you city folks alone for
a minute. Let’s get you back to the inn.”