Page 71 of The Weekend Crashers
She walks briskly back to the lobby and by the time she reaches the front desk she hears raised voices. There, right in the curve of the room just before the stairs come into view, she sees Kalli and Aidan’s nephew Scott arguing. She had no idea they even knew one another; it’s the first time she’s seen them interact all weekend.
Scott isn’t particularly tall—certainly not compared to Aidan and Cole. But he still towers over Kalli, and her body language suggests she’s shrinking back away from him, herarms crossed protectively in front of herself while she says, emphatically, “It wasn’t planned!”
“I don’t believe you,” Scott says.
“Why is this your business?”
“It’s my bachelor party. And he’s my family.”
Belinda is no longer behind the front desk. So if anyone’s going to intervene, it’s going to be Maggie. She walks over to the two of them and stands close enough to reach out and touch Scott.
“Excuse me,” she says. “Everything okay here?” She looks pointedly between the two of them. Kalli’s face is flushed. Scott crosses his arms now too.
“Everything’s fine,” he says, looking at her. “Is my uncle with you?”
“No,” she says, feeling herself blush.
Kalli turns and walks away to the stairwell. Scott shakes his head and walks in the opposite direction, leaving Maggie standing alone and wondering what she just interrupted.
Then she remembers why she wanted to be alone in the lobby in the first place. She dials Piper and it again goes straight to voicemail.
“Piper, I don’t know what’s going on with you, but you have to call me back. I’m getting upset.”
There are moments in life that are like highway signs. If you’re paying attention, they let you know when to get on or off the road.
At the animal shelter, Piper and Cole check their bags and phones at the door. He chats up another person he’s friendly with, while she follows Denise to the back. She’s delighted to see all the soulful eyes peeking out from cages, the air marked by the distinct scent of fur and feathers. She experiences a deeptwinge, something like homesickness. She experienced something similar yesterday when they first walked in, but hadn’t fully understood it. Now she does.
“This is so generous of you,” Denise says, unfolding one of the blankets and showing a colleague.
Denise leads her to the birdcage where the baby sparrow is recovering. He hops around a makeshift nest of dried leaves and twigs.
“He’s healthy,” Denise says. “The leg you told us about wasn’t an injury. That’s a natural stance for hatchlings this young. But you did the right thing bringing him in—he was completely vulnerable to predators on the ground.”
“So tell me what’s next for our little guy here?” she says.
While Denise explains the process of easing him back into the wild, Piper’s distracted by the movement of a sleek-looking cat roaming a cage. With its leopard-like coat, it appears to be a Bengal. This particular one has eyes like green glass and a penetrating gaze.
“Wow,” Piper says. It’s only the second time she’s seen a Bengal in real life, and the last time hadn’t been this close. She’s seen one loose in Central Park, the tragic dumping ground for a lot of Manhattan pets. “That’s a Bengal, right?” Piper says.
Denise turns to look at the cat. “That’s Roxie. Yeah, she’s a beauty. A family brought her in last week. They found her wandering near the canal. They tried to keep her, but she was aggressive with the kids.”
She walks toward the Bengal and Piper follows her. “It’s hard to see her confined to a cage,” Piper says. Bengals are particularly high-energy cats, and there’s no room in the space for a climbing tree or anything to give it exercise.
“I know. After we rehab her injured leg, we’re going to find a home for her.”
“Hey there, Roxie girl,” Piper says. The cat looks at herwith something like disgust. She stands straight and regal, those remarkable eyes unblinking. Piper feels a strong pull to the animal. It’s like that sometimes—a mix of curiosity and affection that gives her an overwhelming need to connect with them.
“When there aren’t any other animals or birds loose, I try to let her stretch her legs a bit. We can try that now.” Denise opens the cage and the cat emerges gingerly. Piper sits on the ground and makes soft clucking sounds, hoping the creature will come close enough to pet her. It’s a long shot, but she wants to try.
“You can give her one of these,” Denise says, handing her a cat treat. Piper takes it from her, but before she can unwrap it the cat is walking slowly toward her, pupils dilated, in playful hunt mode. Piper drums her fingers on the floor to entice the cat to pounce on them, and she does. Then Roxie slinks closer to Piper.
“Hi, beautiful girl,” she says. The cat walks onto her lap and she finishes opening the treat, and holds the plastic wrapper out so Roxie can lick the creamy salmon concoction. After she devours the first bit, Piper pulls the treat back to squeeze more to the top, and before she realizes it Roxie is in her face taking a big swipe at her. Piper doesn’t feel the scratch at first, but when she realizes what’s happened she touches her cheek and sees blood on her fingertips.
“Oh! Jesus, let me see that,” Denise says, rushing over. “Are you okay? I’m so sorry.”
“I’m fine,” she says, “Don’t be upset with the cat. It was just an accident.”
Except: wasn’t an accident.
