Page 76 of The Weekend Crashers
A “hap” is a traditional Shetland Shawl, and the technique originated in the Shetland island north of Scotland. She learned it herself years ago, something she’d discussed with Belinda at the opening-night dinner. But she’d been looking forward to seeing Piper try it for the first time. Now it seems that isn’t going to happen: Piper’s a no-show. Maybe she should have expected as much after their argument.
Where had Piper gotten it into her head that Maggie gaveup her dreams for her? She’d never said that—never suggested it or even thought about it, really. She’s sure of it. Sure, it was thrilling for her to know that her daughter was walking in shows for designers she herself admired. And yes, Piper’s fashion career feels like a form of delayed gratification; Maggie ended up with a connection to the fashion industry after all. Piper’s career is a precious, unexpected consolation prize.
And how was she supposed to know that Piper was unhappy modeling? She distinctly remembers watching the movieThe Devil Wears Pradatogether. They both agreed with Meryl Streep during that last Paris scene, when her character turns to Anne Hathaway and says—of the absurdities and sacrifices of life in fashion—“Don’t be ridiculous, Andrea:everyone wants this.” They had agreed! And so no, she doesn’t think she missed some big clue. If Piper had been unhappy, she’d hidden it from her. The realization gives Maggie a sense of deep loneliness.
When is this class going to start?She checks her phone for the time and sees a text from Aidan.
I hope things went better between you and Piper than with me and Cole. Time for a drink tonight? Before the festivities?
It’s tempting. She can confide in him. Tell him what’s going on without the risk of judgment. Aidan, of all people, can relate. But she can’t commit to slipping away for some time with Aidan. She has one night left to salvage what’s left of their mother-daughter weekend, and that’s her priority.
Belinda walks into the room, apologizing for the delay, assuring everyone the workshop will start in just a few minutes. Then she turns to Maggie. “Can I talk to you for a minute?”
“Um, sure.”
What now?Maggie thinks, following her out into the hall. Had Belinda witnessed her argument with Piper? Or maybe she ran into Piper and saw she was upset.
“What’s going on?” she says anxiously.
“I know this is a big ask,” Belinda says, wringing her hands. “But can you teach this workshop?”
“This one as in here, now?”
“Yes.”
“What about Hannah Elise?”
“It appears Piper’s agent stole her away from us.”
It’s surprising, but not as surprising as it should be. After all, Maggie had been the one to introduce them. Maggie presses her hand to her forehead. What more could go wrong?
She wants to help out—she feels partially responsible for Gretchen Lundgren showing up in New Hope in the first place. But she’s not sure she’s capable of teaching something as advanced as the Shetland Hap.
“I don’t mean to put you on the spot,” Belinda adds. “It’s your vacation.”
“You’re not putting me on the spot. I’m just not sure I can do a good job.”
Belinda reaches out and puts a hand on her shoulder. “I’m willing to take that chance. If you are.”
Sure. Why not? What’s the worst that can happen? With knitting, even when she messes up, she knows how to fix it.
If only life were more like knitting.
Chapter Thirty-Four
The glow of the fireplace casts flickering shadows on the lobby’s stone walls. Belinda takes a moment to look around the room, and it confirms what she’s come to expect over the years: The Sip & Stitch is the moment when the group of former strangers becomes a sort of knitting family. Anyone peeking in at the party wouldn’t be able to tell who’d just met three days ago and who’d arrived already friends. And everyone is dressed in their handiwork: Sheila wears a floor-length Granny Square cape, Laurel sports a knit jumpsuit and Maggie is dressed in dark blue jeans and a jewel-toned crewneck sweater.
As planned, the bachelor party hasn’t yet joined them. She wants a few minutes alone with her group. She taps the old bell on the front desk to get everyone’s attention and then waves them to gather around.
“I just want to say, you’ve been a special group this weekend. It’s my twenty-fifth knitting retreat, and the first that incorporated axe-throwing... so thank you for that.” They laugh, and she feels the love in the room, and now she wishes that shehadasked Max to come. To show him that running the inn isn’t a job to retire from, that it’s a lifestyle: surrounding themselves with people during peak occasions of theirlives, helping them make memories. Giving them the place to do that. And creating their own along the way. “I always use the last night of the retreat to unveil the group portrait, so here you go,” she says, holding up the framed print. “Hot off the press.”
She passes it around, and while everyone’s looking at it, she texts Max.
Can u stop by the lobby for a minute?
“I hope everyone feels they’ve learned something they can take home with them after this weekend. But remember: Knitting, like life, is never something you can master. Mistakes will be made. Projects will fail. It’s a process. Embrace the process, and you will always have a source of joy.” The group applauds. She has mixed feelings, knowing that she herself is struggling with the process of life at the moment.
“That was really special,” Maggie says, walking up to her. “This whole weekend has been special.”
