Page 92 of The Weekend Crashers
He’d been hurt when she stood him up. But then he told himself it was a blessing in disguise—at least he didn’t get in any deeper with her. She was clearly erratic. And she lived two states away. Wrong for him in those big ways, and probably many others he would discover in time. Bullet dodged.
It was good he accepted Beverly Cricket’s invitation. He should have done it sooner. Maybe now he’ll be able to stop thinking about Maggie.
Even after Belinda’s terrible news about the inn, Maggie feels compelled to visit the yellow storefront—the one she discovered during the walking tour that first day of the retreat. The spothas been on her mind since the moment she had the idea for a knit shop in town.
But she never, for one second, considered a New Hope without Belinda. The sale of the inn changes everything. Because she realizes now she doesn’t actually want to move to New Hope just to open a knitting shop; she wants to move to New Hope to build something with Belinda. If Belinda is leaving New Hope, what’s Maggie’s plan B?
Everything she sees along the way reminds her of Piper, and it hits her: Piper is married. But if she had to get married this young, at least it’s with a decent man who loves her. Maggie won’t forget the call Ethan made to her today. And as her now son-in-law, she has plenty of time to make things up to him. And she will.
Maggie turns at the corner. She sees a man who reminds her of Aidan, and this brings back the odd longing she’d experienced when she walked into the inn lobby. Then she realizes the man doesn’t just look like Aidan, he isactually Aidan. And he’s not alone.
She has about four seconds to process this before Aidan sees her too. The diminutive blonde beside him is talking, gesturing broadly. It’s clear from how close she walks to him, arms grazing, and the way she looks up at him, that she isn’t simply a business associate or a pal.
“Maggie?” Aidan says. Is that disbelief in his voice? Annoyance?
“Hi,” she says, her brain filled with static. The only thing that’s clear is her urge to reach out and touch him, while a grasp of basic conversation eludes her. After “hi,” she’s got nothing.
“What are you doing here?” he says.
“I’m here for the weekend. Belinda and I are... working on a project.” Well, it’s half true.
Aidan looks quizzical but, given the circumstances, doesn’t ask her to elaborate. He introduces her to his “friend” Beverly.
“How do y’all know each other?” Beverly asks with a smile.
“We met this past weekend,” Aidan says.
The woman’s smile becomes a lot less friendly.
“His son and my daughter hit it off,” Maggie says to fill in the blanks. She turns back to Aidan. “I came back here to apologize to Belinda for running off like that.” It’s true, if not the full story. “I feel terrible about leaving so quickly and not saying goodbye.” This part is directed at him, and a barely perceptible nod tells her he understands that. “I had a crisis with my daughter,” she explains for Beverly’s sake.
“I hope that’s resolved,” Aidan says.
“I’m working on it.”
“Always best to bury the hatchet,” he says, and she looks up sharply, wondering if his choice of wording is a nod to their weekend. Their eye contact, the heat between them, is her answer.
Beverly, maybe picking up on their more-than-passing acquaintanceship, says archly, “I’msoglad I never had kids. The world’s overpopulated. We need more food, not more people. That’s why I focus on my vegetables.”
Maggie nods, not knowing what her vegetable focus is, exactly, and not wanting to prolong the encounter by asking.
But then Beverly says, “And what doyoudo, Maggie?”
The question feels like a challenge—as if Maggie now needs to prove her own worthy contribution to society (since she contributed to overpopulating it). And something about the pause she takes to consider this makes her answer it more for herself than for Beverly.
“I’m a knitter,” she says.
That’s the bottom line. She’s a knitter. That’s her answer. And it’s been there this whole time.
“I need to go,” she says, telling Beverly it was nice to meet her while avoiding meeting Aidan’s gaze. It’s too hard to look at him.
She turns and walks back toward the inn, waiting until she feels certain she’s out of sight to make a phone call. Elaine doesn’t answer her cell, but she picks up the store landline.
“I need a favor,” Maggie says. “Two, actually. First, I know it’s last-minute, but I’ve been thinking a lot about our conversation on Monday and I need the day off tomorrow.”
After a beat, Elaine says, “What’s the second?”
“I need you to meet me in New Hope.”
