35. Tuesday
CHAPTER 35
TUESDAY
“L ooking a little sluggish this morning, McArthur.”
Maggie picked up her pace as they neared the top of Whippoorwill Hill. She’d won their races narrowly the past two days, and she was planning to make it three.
“Somebody kept me up past my bedtime,” she huffed out, as she closed the distance between them.
“Cross-training is critical to an athlete’s overall strength.”
Maggie laughed on an exhale and used the energy to power a final sprint to the boulder they’d agreed was the official finish line. She collapsed onto the cool grass, victorious. Daniel tapped the boulder a few strides behind her and doubled over, hands on his knees, to catch his breath.
“Whew,” Maggie exhaled dramatically, splayed out on the ground.
“Yeah,” Daniel said, straightening. He reached a hand out to help her up. She took it and let the momentum carry her onto her feet and into his chest. Daniel took a step back, caught off-guard by the full weight of her, and wrapped his arms around her waist.
The air was already warm but not yet oppressive. The smell of morning dew and wildflowers mixed with the tang of fresh sweat. Maggie leaned in for a slow, drugging kiss. He tasted familiar and salty.
“Mmmm, I like winning,” Maggie murmured into the space between them. “Better keep up that cross-training.” And she was off.
Daniel half laughed, half groaned in frustration, sprinting to catch up. “That can be arranged.”
Maggie had just washed the shampoo from her hair when the droning of the shower’s spray was interrupted by furious barking.
“Parton!” she called. “Hush!”
Parton did not hush. His barking only intensified. She exchanged a look with Daniel.
“I fed him,” he offered with a soapy shrug.
“It’s probably just a squirrel,” Maggie sighed, ringing out her hair, “but I suppose it could be an emergency.” She stepped out of the shower, leaving Daniel standing under the running water looking like Mr. August if Home Depot made a charity calendar. “Don’t go anywhere,” she said, tying her curls up in a towel in an effort to contain their dripping. “I’m not done with you.”
Maggie quickly slipped into a fresh t-shirt and running shorts on her way through the bedroom (she was pretty sure she’d left the front curtains open, and she wasn’t looking to cause a scandal).
“Parton!” she said, exasperated, opening the door into the living room. “What is it?” Parton was up on his hind legs, paws against the front door, barking directly into the solid wood. “Is someone there?” If it had been a squirrel, he’d have been at the window.
Then she heard what the noise of the shower must have drowned out. A knock. Maggie walked over to the front window and pulled aside the curtain (she’d closed them after all).
“. . .Mom?”
“Hello Margaret!” her mother shouted through the closed door.
Maggie could barely process what was happening.
“Uh, one sec.” She told Parton to hush again, ran to grab a stick of yak cheese out of a bottom cupboard, and tossed it onto the couch. Never one to turn down a snack, Parton bolted to the couch, hopped onto the squishy cushions, and spun around twice before settling down to chew. Maggie quickly double-checked that she was decent, pulled the towel off her head, fluffed her curls, and took a breath before opening the door to let her mother into the cottage. Her father, who had apparently been standing to her side just out of sight, followed.
“What—” Maggie’s question was interrupted by an enthusiastic hug from her mother.
“Hi M&M,” her father smiled, using his inside voice and gently closing the door behind him.
Her mother released her, then grabbed Maggie’s shoulders and held her out at arm’s length for an inspection. Maggie could only imagine the state of her tangled, dripping hair.
“I’m so sorry dear did we interrupt your shower? We did try to call when we were a few minutes out.”
“No. I mean, yes, but no it’s fine. I mean, it’s ok. It’s good to see you! What — what are you doing here?”
“Just dropping in to say hello,” her father said.
“You’ve been so busy you never gave us dates for a visit, and the summer’s nearly over, and I had a break between my summer school classes and the new semester, plus we wanted to come check up on Lucille, but Lucille hates being checked up on, so we thought, well, this is a perfect cover—let’s just pop by. Maybe get brunch.”
“It’s a four-hour drive.”
“Not when your mother is driving,” Maggie’s father said good humoredly.
“Oh, there was hardly anyone else on the road at this hour. So, what do you say dear? You go throw on some other clothes and — oh is that cute little diner still open? With the—” She cut herself off mid-sentence. She’d been speaking at what had seemed, for her, a normal volume, but it suddenly sounded like she was yelling.
Maggie froze when she realized what had changed. The background hum of running water had abruptly stopped.
Fuck.
She’d been gone too long, and Daniel was coming to look for her. Fuck. She couldn’t think what to do. She was supposed to be good at crisis management! Fuck fuck fuck.
“Did…? Was someone else in there with you?” Maggie’s mother asked, like a tabloid reporter hot on the trail of fresh gossip.
“Um. No.”
Her mother gave her the look that poor excuse for a lie deserved.
“I mean yes.” Her mother quirked a brow, expectantly. “The…plumber.”
“The plumber was in the shower with you.”
“What? No. He was cleaning my—the pipes.” An almost Pavlovian response to her mother’s skepticism was the only explanation for why she kept talking. “I’m just still wet.” Margaret. Jesus. “From when I showered earlier. Before the plumber got here. He just came—just arrived.”
“He just arrived,” her mother deadpanned, and Maggie thought that maybe the hole she was digging for herself could be her grave. Her face was burning, and she knew her cheeks would have given her away, if there’d been anything plausible left to deny. She made the mistake of glancing at her father, whose moderately horrified amusement was clear despite the hand discreetly shielding the lower half of his face.
“Oh hello there,” Maggie’s mother said to someone behind her.
Maggie stood, suspended in the moment when the time bomb has ticked down to zero but hasn’t yet exploded. There was nothing she could do to prevent the next five minutes from happening, nowhere she could take cover. God she hoped Daniel had been able to hear the voices once he’d turned off the tap and had realized they had visitors. And had figured out that the visitors were her parents . And had dressed accordingly.
“Hello,” Daniel’s voice came from just behind her right shoulder.
He didn’t sound naked. Though he did sound…different. This must be his Parent Voice. Parents probably loved him. Fuck.
Maggie finally turned to see what they were all dealing with and released a breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding. Becker was wearing his dirty running shorts (beggars can’t be choosers) and had managed to hunt down the dusty blue t-shirt she’d stolen from him weeks ago. If his hair hadn’t been glistening wet in the sunlight, you’d never have known that he’d been in her shower literally thirty seconds earlier.
“You must be the plumber,” Maggie’s mother said, stepping forward and holding out her hand with a wry smile. Maggie caught Daniel’s sideways glance and gave a small shake of her head. “I’m Kathleen Sullivan-McArthur. Maggie’s mother.”
Daniel took Kathleen Sullivan-McArthur’s hand and put every ounce of parent charming energy that he’d curated as a Camp Director into his easy smile. “Pleased to meet you, ma’am. I’m Daniel Becker. Director of Camp Oak Ridge, just down the road.”
“You don’t say,” Maggie’s mother did say. “Call me Kathy.”
Maggie’s father stepped forward and held out his hand to continue Maggie’s ritual torture. “Richard McArthur. Rick. Maggie’s father.”
“A pleasure,” Daniel said, sounding sincere. “And may I say I’m sorry for y’all’s loss. Miss Peggy was a special woman.”
Maggie did a double take at his use of “y’all.” He really had code switched to Southern Parent.
“Thank you,” Kathleen responded, before they all instinctively took a beat. “It’s lovely to meet you too, Director Becker. We’re so sorry to interrupt. We simply weren’t expecting Maggie to have… company. Then again, neither were you expecting us. We just stopped by to kidnap our darling daughter for brunch. It’s not often that she’s within driving distance.”
“Call me Daniel, please,” he said, flashing that winning smile again. God he was good. “Now, did y’all have somewhere in mind to eat?”
“Well, there is that little diner in Hendersonville with these biscuits that are to die for. I can never remember the name…”
“Uncle Stu’s?”
“That’s the one.”
“Stu’s is a classic, but I’m pretty sure it’s not open before noon on weekdays. There’s a place called Oak and Maple over in Asheville that has a great weekday brunch and I happen to have an in with their bartender, so I think I can get y’all a table.”
“Well aren’t you just better than Yelp!”
Maggie felt like she was having an out of body experience watching Daniel Becker charm her mother with small talk in the living room. This was not where she had expected the morning to go. Fortunately, at least, the worst was almost over. They would head out to eat, and Daniel could make a graceful exit. A little parental interrogation over grits sounded almost like a relief.
“That sounds wonderful,” Maggie’s father said. “Have you been, M&M?”
Maggie glanced sideways in time to catch Daniel register the nickname. His face told her that she would hear about it later.
“Uh.” It was the bar she’d wandered into on her first night back, hoping to stave off jet lag, but she saw no reason to make her day any worse. “No.”
“Well then, it’s settled,” Kathy declared.
“I’ll give Drew a call and let her know you’re on your way.” Daniel said. “I’m sure she’ll find you a good table.”
“Do you have somewhere you have to be, Daniel?”
Yes, Maggie tried to communicate telepathically. Yes, you’re very busy. You have an important meeting that you can’t reschedule. But all she managed to get out was, “Um?—”
Everyone’s attention turned simultaneously toward her. And each of them looked like they would very much like to have a word with her in private.
When she didn’t continue, Daniel broke the weird silence. “I don’t have to be anywhere in particular, but I wouldn’t want to intrude now you’ve come all this way.”
“Don’t be silly,” her mother said. “Call this Drew and tell her we’ll need a table for four.”
Maggie loved to be right. And she was right most of the time. But just this once, she would have liked to have been wrong.
Unfortunately, her rightness was an unstoppable force. Her parents fucking loved Daniel Becker. He had clearly been honing his parent-whispering skills for years, and they were razor sharp. Maggie didn’t even remember telling him what her parents did for work, that her father was a professor in UNC’s English department and her mother at the medical school, and yet she’d just spent half an hour listening to Daniel Becker, comp lit major, follow Professor McArthur down his latest academic rabbit hole. This time, apparently, it was the intersection of environmentalism and social justice in the work of Wilma Dykeman. Daniel, who had a notably terrible poker face, had looked genuinely invested. Gross.
The restaurant was bustling (apparently it had been written up in a national paper the week before), and Drew barely had time to wave at them when they’d arrived, which was fine with Maggie. She had, however, materialized sometime after the food had arrived, dirty blonde hair tied up in a messy bun, black apron protecting her denim button down, evident delight powered by pure schadenfreude.
“Maggie, you didn’t mention that your parents were visiting this week.”
“They forgot to mention it to me, too,” Maggie had said, dryly.
Introductions were made, disappointment over the fact that her parents and Drew seemed not to know anyone in common was expressed, and compliments were given to the chef, who Drew promptly clarified was not her.
“No, ma’am, I burn toast.” Even Drew had broken out her version of Parent Voice.
“Well, that’s something you and my daughter have in common,” Maggie’s mother replied. Then, turning to Daniel, “You’ve been warned.”
“Oh, I’m well aware.”
Maggie wasn’t sure who she was more annoyed at. Her mother, for talking to Daniel like someone who had any reason to be interested in whether Maggie could cook, or Daniel, for acknowledging that he was, in fact, a person with knowledge of whether Maggie could cook.
When Drew was flagged down by a diner two tables over, Daniel turned to Kathleen. “Have you seen the plans for the Blue Harbor renovation yet? I am so glad y’all are keeping the place running. I just know Miss Peggy would be glad, too.”
“I think she’d be surprised, to be honest. I may know business, but the outdoorsy gene skipped right over me. Of course, M&M always did love Blue Harbor as a child. So maybe Peggy wouldn’t have been so surprised after all.” She glanced sideways at her daughter, and Maggie took a big bite of her fried chicken biscuit sandwich to avoid having to respond. “I know I’m the one inheriting it, but it has occurred to me that, if Peggy had gotten around to making a will, she would have left the place to Maggie.”
Maggie was still busy chewing when Becker said, “You know, I’ve had that thought, too.”
Well, that was news to her. She took another bite to keep herself safely on the sidelines of the conversation. Would it have made a difference if Aunt Peg had left the property to her? She probably wouldn’t have shown up planning to sell it. For her mother, it was a burden. But for Maggie, maybe it was a gift.
“And, of course, I think Maggie should stay on. The idea to keep Blue Harbor running is hers, even if, for now, the property isn’t. Don’t you agree?”
Becker took a strategically timed sip of his coffee. “I’m not exactly an unbiased observer,” he said, before Kathleen broke in.
“But in your professional opinion, as Director of Oak Ridge.”
Maggie forgot, for a moment, to be preoccupied with her meal and accidentally let Daniel catch her gaze. The way he looked at her… His expression was so nakedly earnest it felt like they should get a room, emotionally speaking.
“She’s the best person for the job, hands down. If she wants it. But should she stay on? I can’t answer that. She shouldn’t take the ability to make the choice for granted. And she should take herself into consideration when making it.”
“This above all— to thine own self be true,” Maggie’s father chimed in with one of his old faithfuls.
“You can take the professor out of the classroom,” Kathleen smiled mischievously at her husband, “but all the world’s a stage.”
“Something like that.”
“It was good to see you, M&M,” Maggie’s father said, back in the Blue Harbor parking lot, as he wrapped her in a bear hug reminiscent of Teddy’s. She breathed in his familiar scent, flour and old books, and, for a moment, she didn’t want to let go.
She was finding it more difficult to say goodbye to her parents than she’d expected. It had been not terrible, actually, seeing them. Despite the ambush. It had almost been, well, nice.
She’d always loved them. They were good people, and good parents, and she knew she’d been lucky. But growing up as her mother’s daughter, not to mention her mother’s doppelg?nger, in a tight-knit community of academics, and then attending the same university where both her parents taught…it had been suffocating. Everyone knew her. Everyone was watching her. Everyone expected perfection to come easily. She’d needed space, and she’d moved across an ocean at 21 to get it.
But, Maggie was beginning to realize, she hadn’t circled back to any of the choices she’d made at 21, including that one, in a long, long time. A decade. And maybe her relationship with her parents had changed over the years. Maybe she had changed. Maybe what she wanted, now, at 32, wasn’t what she’d wanted at 21. And maybe, probably, that was ok.
“Don’t be a stranger,” Maggie’s father said, releasing her directly into her mother’s waiting arms.
“We love you M&M.” Kathleen’s voice was suspiciously thick.
“I love you, too,” Maggie said into the silk of her mother’s blouse. “I’m…sorry I hadn’t been back in so long.” And she was. She had, perhaps, overcorrected for the excessive proximity of her childhood.
“Yes, well,” Maggie’s mother held her out at arm’s length, “I think we can consider the surprise double-date sufficient penance.” Maggie grimaced a little at “double-date,” but decided to let it slide. Her mother didn’t need to know the details of their arrangement.
“A punishment has never better fit the crime,” her father nodded, holding out his hand for Becker to shake.
“Not a punishment at all, Rick,” Becker said, in a tone that would instill confidence in even the most anxious parents. “It was great to meet you. I’ll keep an eye out for your new article.”
Maggie’s mother skipped the formality and pulled Becker directly into a hug. Then she and Rick headed off toward the crafts room to find Miss Lucille.
“Well,” Maggie said, trying to shake off the maudlin mood that had descended in the wake of her parents’ departure. “That was a living nightmare from which I may never recover.”
“I like them,” Becker smiled.
“You’re compounding the trauma.”
“I don’t like them? I…hate them?”
Maggie took a deep breath. “Yes. Thank you. Say it again.”
He obediently schooled his expression into a semblance of a scowl. “Your parents are monsters,” he said solemnly. “I absolutely did not find your father’s theories compelling.”
“Now say my mother is kind of a lot.”
“I mean, your mother is kind of a lot.” Daniel shrugged genially before quickly adding, “but definitely not in an endearing way that stems from how much she cares about you.”
“Mmmm yes. Just like that.”
Daniel met Maggie’s eyes and his stern mask cracked into a grin. “Well, this got very weird very fast.”
Maggie laughed, and the weight that had settled on her chest at her parents’ departure lightened just a little. “See you tomorrow?”
“See you tomorrow, M&M.”