Chapter 8 #3
“Tourists from Raleigh. They found my site searching for a Cape Mercy photographer. Beach portraits next Wednesday if I’m available.”
I watched the smile start before she trusted it.
“Take it.”
Piper looked up.
“I’m checking the Tide & Timber schedule first.”
“You aren’t booked Wednesday evening.”
“You know my schedule?”
“I know everybody’s schedule.”
“Of course you do.”
She typed a response.
I watched her hesitate before pressing send.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
“Piper.”
Her thumb stopped.
She sighed.
“I had the thought that one family session doesn’t mean I’m building a business.”
I looked at her.
She looked back.
Then she rolled her eyes.
“I know. One more job than I had yesterday.”
“Correct.”
“Your material is becoming predictable.”
“It remains accurate.”
She sent the message.
“Done.”
“Good.”
A knock hit the cottage door.
Both of us froze.
Then June’s voice came through the wood.
“DAD?”
I checked my watch.
Three sixteen.
I had completely lost track of time.
That was disturbing.
“One second.”
Piper looked at the counter.
Her eyes widened.
The bra.
Still sitting beside my drill.
I grabbed it and handed it to her.
She stuffed it into her camera bag.
“This feels criminal.”
“Put your shirt straight.”
She looked down.
“It is straight.”
“It isn’t.”
“Why are you better at this?”
“I have eyes.”
Another knock.
“DAD, ARE YOU BUILDING?”
“Yes.”
Technically true.
Piper covered her mouth.
I opened the deadbolt.
June stood outside with Leah behind her.
Leah had one hand on June’s backpack and the patient expression of a woman accustomed to our household making simple exchanges complicated.
“She wanted to see the cottage,” Leah said.
Then her gaze moved past me to Piper.
Then to Piper’s camera bag.
Then back to me.
Leah was not stupid.
I reminded myself that nothing illegal had occurred.
“Hi,” Piper said.
“Hi.”
June squeezed around me before anyone could stop her.
She turned in the middle of the room.
“It’s done!”
“Almost,” I said.
She inspected the floor.
“Where does Piper sleep?”
Piper and I looked at each other.
Leah’s expression became more attentive.
I answered before Piper had to.
“Piper can sleep wherever Piper wants.”
June frowned.
“That’s not how bedrooms work.”
“It is for adults.”
“Can I sleep wherever I want?”
“No.”
“Then that’s unfair.”
“Correct.”
June accepted this as confirmation of something she had suspected about adulthood.
She pointed at the empty desk wall.
“Is your computer going there?”
Piper smiled.
“Probably.”
“And the cameras?”
“Some of them.”
June nodded.
“So it’s your picture office.”
The phrase landed with surprising accuracy.
Piper looked around the cottage.
“Yeah,” she said. “I think it might be.”
Leah glanced at me.
Not suspicious.
Not approving.
Evaluating.
That was fair.
I had promised her predictability for June after our divorce.
A complicated romantic arrangement did not get to erase that obligation because I happened to want it.
“Piper’s contract included this space,” I said. “Now that the repairs are done, she’s using it for work.”
Leah nodded.
“And the house?”
Also fair.
I could have dodged it.
Piper looked at me.
I understood what she was watching for.
Whether I would make her the embarrassing part.
“She’s staying there too,” I said. “For now.”
Leah’s eyes stayed on mine.
“Okay.”
That was all.
No interrogation.
No custody threat.
No dramatic speech.
Just information she would probably think about because June lived in my house half the time and she had every right to notice changes there.
June had already moved on.
“Can I have this drawer?”
“No,” Piper and I said together.
June looked offended.
Leah laughed.
Five minutes later, they headed toward the main house because June had left a library book under her bed.
Piper stood beside me in the cottage doorway.
“That was terrifying.”
“Leah?”
“Being perceived.”
“Yes.”
She looked at me.
“You didn’t lie.”
“No.”
“You also didn’t announce our sex life to your ex.”
“I possess intermediate social skills.”
“Debatable.”
I locked the cottage after we carried her laptop, two backup drives, and one camera case inside.
Not her suitcase.
I noticed.
I did not comment.
We walked toward the main house together.
Mango was on his porch perch dismantling something red.
I stopped.
“Is that my key tag?”
Piper looked.
The bird held the bright plastic tag I had attached to her new cottage key.
“Mango.”
He climbed higher.
“Mine!”
“That isn’t yours.”
“Mine!”
Piper started laughing.
I opened the enclosure carefully and held out my hand.
Mango stared at me.
I stared back.
“Give it.”
He dropped the tag.
Then he shouted, “Bad idea!”
Piper leaned against the porch rail, laughing harder.
I picked up the tag.
The actual key was still safely in Piper’s pocket.
Good.
She had a lock.
She had a room.
She had a job of her own next Wednesday and another wedding waiting in October.
And when she went inside, she walked past the stairs to her old guest room without collecting a single bag.
I followed her because I lived there.
Not because she needed me.
The distinction felt important.