Page 8 of The Weekend Crashers
Maggie exchanges a look with Piper. Dimitris, their server, says this same thing every time, in the same deadpan expression, as if he’s never made the comment before. And she plays along, not sure if it’s a reprimand, a question or a suggesting for framing her order.
“He never disappoints,” Piper says. Maggie and Piper are seated in a booth next to windows overlooking 81st Street. It’s dark outside, and all she sees are car headlights. Piper moves French fries around her plate, but doesn’t take even one bite. Across the aisle, Maggie spots a familiar old woman sitting alone at a table for two. She has dyed red hair and overly rouged cheeks and cartoonish blue eyeshadow. She’s been eating at the same table every night for all the years Maggie’s lived in the neighborhood.
“You’re finally quiet enough to appease the Dragon Lady,” Maggie jokes. Piper dubbed the old woman Dragon Lady back when she was in fourth grade because the woman used to scold her for talking too loudly.
“She still fucking terrifies me.”
Maggie steals a glance at the woman. It seems she hasn’taged, but that’s probably because she’s the type of person who looked eighty when they were sixty.
It’s sad, really. Maggie wonders, with a shudder, if that will be her fate. Sitting alone at a table in Gracie Mews eating overpriced breakfast food for dinner and snapping at small children. But no, she will never be alone. She has Piper.
Maggie reaches across the table and pats her arm.
“I know you’re embarrassed about last night. But trust me, no one else is thinking about it anymore. The important thing is to get right back on the horse.”Right back on the horse?Oh god. She was turning into Birdie. “You know what I mean,” she adds.
Piper exhales. “Yeah, well, it’s not that simple. That’s why I wanted to have dinner—to talk to you in person. But I don’t want you to get upset.”
Maggie’s stomach tightens into a knot. “Now I’m already upset. What happened?”
Piper reaches for a lock of her hair, twisting it around her forefinger.
“Gretchen dropped me.”
“Dropped you meaning... what?” Maggie knows, but she can’t believe it.
“Meaning, she no longer represents me.”
She understands that Piper’s manager would be upset, concerned even. But to drop her?
“That doesn’t make sense,” Maggie says. Piper starts talking about her contract being up, that she doesn’t have enough momentum—but that she’s fine with it. Clearly, she’s determined to put up a brave front. But Maggie knows deep down she must be heartbroken. Maggie feels helpless. Motherhood was so much easier when almost anything could be fixed with a trip to the ice cream shop or toy store. She wonders, what’s the adult equivalent?
She remembers the knitting retreat.
“Piper, let’s get away this weekend.”
Piper shakes her head. “Mom, you don’t have to fix this for me. I’m fine.”
“I know you’re fine,” Maggie says. “But Elaine told me about this amazing knitting retreat. It’s just two hours away. I think it would be good for both of us.”
She shows Piper her phone, where’s she pulled up the retreat website.
Welcome to New Hope:Indulge your passion for all things yarn in the heart of a charming historic town nestled on the Delaware River. Our exclusive knitting and crochet retreat offers a sanctuary for creativity and relaxation...
“A sanctuary for creativity,” Piper says.
“Are you making fun?” Maggie says, swiping the phone away.
“No! Come on—show me again.”
Maggie hands the phone back, and Piper reads aloud: “Craft in comfort. Your accommodations will be the cozy New Hope Inn, blending old-world charm with modern amenities, providing the perfect backdrop for your crafting endeavors.” She looks up. “I like old-world charm.”
“As do I,” Maggie says, and they share a smile. She has the rest of the post memorized:
Something for Everyone:Whether you’re an experienced crafter looking to refine your skills or a novice eager to learn the basics, our knitting and crochet retreat promises an enriching experience for all.
“What do you think?” Maggie says.
Piper nods. “I mean, it sounds great. But it starts tomorrow. I’m sure it’s sold out.”
