Page 37 of The Weekend Crashers
Her mother smiles tensely. Piper is confused. When it becomes clear Maggie’s not going to introduce her, she stands up and offers her hand.
“Hi—I’m Piper. Maggie’s daughter,” she says. Before he can reply, her mother jumps up too.
“Actually... Piper and I have a full day of workshops,” Maggie says. “Sorry about that. I really thought we were just making conversation.” She gives a forced laugh.
“So you’re welching on the bet?” the man says.
She looks at her mother, who’s now red in the face. Piper is so confused.
“How do you two know each other?”
“We met last night before dinner,” Maggie says quickly.
“Your mom seems to think knitting is more challenging than outdoor survival skills,” Aidan says. “And we bet on it.”
“I see,” Piper says. And she does: Her mother has a little flirtation going on. Good for her!
It’s only recently, in the past few years, that Piper has given some thought to Maggie’s love life—or lack thereof. Growing up, it seemed normal. Preferable. It was the two of them against the world. But now that she herself is older than Maggie was when she became a mother, things are beginning to look different. Sometimes, she feels responsible for her mother’s happiness. In a way, she has always felt that way. Maggie, to her credit, never acted like a martyr. Still, Piper’s always been aware of Maggie’s selflessness. Even now, first thing this morning, Maggie is worried about Piper’s relationship. She wants to talk about Ethan, to fix it for her. But it’s not her problem to fix. She needs to start thinking about herself. And this attractive man is a good place to start.
“So what’s the bet?” Piper repeats. When Maggie stays silent, Aidan fills her in on their conversation from last night. “So we join you on one of your bushcraft outings, then you take a knitting class?”
“That’s right,” he says. “I’m Aidan, by the way.”
His handshake is strong.
“It was just talk—”
“Mom, a bet’s a bet,” Piper says, sharing a conspiratorial glance with Aidan.
“I’m not missing the lace class starting in a half hour,” Maggie says. Then, to Aidan, “When’s this thing happening?”
“Not until the afternoon. Unless you want to head out with us right now for compass training. I wouldn’t want to be accused of having an unfair advantage after you two lose.”
“Unfair advantage? I learned how to use a compass in fourth grade,” Maggie says.
“The afternoon it is, then,” says Aidan.
When he’s gone, Piper asks, “Did you really learn to use a compass in fourth grade?”
“It was the eighties. I don’t remember a thing, but I think there’s an app for that now anyway.”
Piper smiles. That’s the spirit. Now the weekend is starting to feel like an adventure. Like the two of them against the world.
Like it’s always been.
Estonian lace is a high-level craft. Maggie once read that an Estonian lace shawl is so delicate, even a large one can fit through the circumference of a wedding ring.
But instead of focusing on the workshop, she’s still buzzing from the unexpected breakfast encounter with Aidan Danby. Waking up that morning, she doubted he even remembered the conversation, or gave it a second thought. She was fully prepared, if she happened to run into him in the lobby, to simply give a friendly hello and leave it at that.
“Welcome, brave few who dare to tackle this centuries-old knitting tradition,” Belinda says. They’re only a group of six, including Kalli, Laurel, and Sheila. Each place at the table is set with a skein of delicate white fingering-weight yarn, a pair of thin bamboo knitting needles in size seven, stitch markers, tapestry needles, a notepad, and a printout of patterns. A finished lace shawl is displayed in the center of the table.
Today Belinda’s wearing a turtleneck with intricate colorwork and blue jeans decorated with hand-embroidered hems. “Estonian lace is part of a historical craft tradition, with symbolic meaning often tied to the patterns.”
Maggie loves that idea. Beside her, Piper is already taking notes. Maggie watches her scratch away at the notepad, her hair falling forward and obscuring her face. She knows her so well, but her daughter can still surprise her. What on earth made her so enthusiastic about the bushcraft challenge?
Belinda talks about the qualities of fingering-weight yarn and why it’s the right choice for this particular knitting style. Maggie uses one of the notepads to write that down, trying to keep herself in the moment.
“First we’re going to go over some key techniques,” Belinda says, holding up a shawl. “Most of what you’re looking at here can be accomplished with yarnovers and basic decreases.”
