Page 28 of The Weekend Crashers
“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 forthis 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.”
