Page 67 of The Weekend Crashers
A server stops by to hand them menus. Piper isn’t hungry.
“You gonna order?” she asks him. She pulls one of her animal-blankets-in-progress out of her tote. It’s still on the needles and she holds it up, careful not to let the stitches slide off.
“Maybe. I’m not a big breakfast person, but there’s time to kill until the rest of the guys get back from the campground. What’re you making there?”
“It’s a blanket to donate to the animal refuge,” she says. “I knit a few last night. When I worked at the shelter back home, I used to line the cages with them to make them cozy. I wasthinking I could drop them off at BARR sometime before the end of the weekend.”
“I’m sure Denise would appreciate that a lot.” He checks his phone. “Wanna stop by before everyone gets back here? We can see how your bird is doing.”
She’d been thinking about the fledgling. And there’s still over an hour before the first class, Flawless Finish. At that point, she doesn’t even know if her mother will be making it back in time for the workshop.
“Sure,” she says. “Let’s go.”
Belinda is working the front desk because they’re short-staffed. Ordinarily, she doesn’t mind desk duty, but it’s the last full day of the retreat and she hates to miss the entire breakfast hour. And Max can’t help out because he headed to Philadelphia to look at the town house she doesn’t want.
The front desk phone rings, a caller asking about availability for a spring wedding. Belinda can’t bring herself to admit—not to herself, and not to the caller—that the New Hope Inn might not exist in the spring. Who knows what a buyer might do with the place?
“Let me take your information and have our manager get back to you this afternoon.” The manager being herself. Really, she has to wonder if he’s truly thought this through. Sure, a big move—a big change—is attractive, like a wink from a stranger. But after the novelty wears off, Max will remember how much of their day-to-day lives is entwined with the inn. And by then it will be too late.
Maybe today, the simple act of discussing a spring wedding would be enough to reset the conversation. If money is the sole motivation for the sale, maybe they can explore ways to increase revenue. If he needs more time off, they canwork that out too. There must be a compromise to be found somewhere.
“Excuse me.”
Belinda looks up to find a fair-skinned woman with inky black hair wearing an eggplant-colored leather trench coat. Her lipstick matches the coat.
“Good morning. How can I help you?” Belinda says. Maybe she’s an actress trying to find the playhouse next door.
“I’m looking for Piper Hodges. Can you ring up to her room?”
This gives Belinda pause. She can’t disclose guest information. And in all the years she’s been at the inn, this policy has never been tested. The dilemma must show on her face, because the woman adds, “I’m Gretchen Lundgren, her manager. She told me she’s here.”
Belinda tries the Margaret Mead landline, but no one answers.
“I can’t reach Piper is at the moment. But you’re welcome to have a seat and wait. Or try her cell phone?”
The woman lets out an impatient sigh. “If Piper were answering her phone, I wouldn’t be standing here talking to you.” Then, recognizing the sharpness in her tone, says, “I’m sorry. But this is time-sensitive business.” With that, she turns and walks over to the seats closest to the fireplace.
Belinda reaches for her own phone. She doesn’t have Piper’s number, but she does have Maggie’s. She gives her a call—not for the manager’s sake, but for her own.
Something tells her this is something Maggie would want to know about. Immediately.
Maggie wakes up aching and stiff in her sleeping bag. She can tell, before she even moves, that her back will be punishing her for this. But the night was worth it. Who needs mobility?
She inches up on her elbows and looks over at Aidan. He’s still asleep in his camping quilt. Sunshine streams down from the clear plastic skylight in the top of the tent, and she takes the moment to look at him without being self-conscious. For once, she doesn’t have to pretend not to notice how handsome he is. She sees the light auburn in his stubble and resists the urge to reach out and touch it.
The minute he kissed her, she realized how very much she liked him, and that the feelings had been brewing since Friday night at the bar. Feelings strong enough that she had sex in a tent. A first for her. It feels like something she might have experienced in her twenties if her life had taken a different turn. The fact that it happened now, at her age, feels like a gift from the universe.
She reached over slowly, careful to avoid any abrupt movements that might wake him, and drags her handbag closer by the strap. When it’s within reach, she reaches inside and pulls out her NARS compact. She has bedhead (tent head?) and her lips look red and chapped. That, she knows, isn’t from the cold. It’s from all the kissing they did last night. She hasn’t kissed like that in years. The thought gives her a delicious little shiver.
Aidan stirs and she immediately looks away, concerned that somehow her gaze silently disturbed him.
“Hey,” he says.
“Hi,” she says.
“We survived the night.”
“No bear attacks,” she says, smiling. “But thank you for sticking around just in case.”
