Sailing Lessons

by Hannah McKinnon

  Beside her, an older woman was checking out the display of knitting books, picking one up and running her hand over its smooth cover. Then putting it down and doing the same to the next. Piper didn’t blame her. It was hard not to do that to every single one.

  She examined the book she’d picked. It featured a summer cottage surrounded by hydrangea, a soothing palette of blues and lavenders. According to the jacket it was about a family coming together for a reunion at the shore, which made her snort. She determined to stay put and read a few pages, to soak in the needed peace and quiet of the bookstore, but no sooner had she opened the cover than her phone dinged. It was him.

  On Cape, Derek texted. Can’t stop thinking of you. Piper fell back into her chair with a surge of glee. Followed by shame. How was it that he could undo her so easily with a scant offering of seven words after days of silence. Oh, but those words!

  She glanced around the shop, suddenly on edge. Derek’s family could be among any of these people.

  She’d never laid eyes on his children. They were a subject he did not often broach, and the limited responses he’d given when asked were clear indication that they were a part of his life he did not wish to include her in. In the beginning she’d asked about them with the same keenness one has to learn anything and everything about your new lover, trying to scrounge up the pieces that made up who this person was and what fit them together. Derek had loosened up since then, remarking on one story or another about the kids from time to time: something funny that Ryder said when he’d driven him to school that morning, or a proud comment about Lydia reading the entire Little House series over one summer. On those occasions she felt it was an invitation of sorts. She tread carefully though, limiting her questions about them lest the mention of the children stir up feelings of guilt about what he was doing. Away from his family. Away with her.

  There were times she’d screwed up royally. Like the Saturday they planned to meet for coffee last spring. He’d warned her in advance that it would be a quick visit because his daughter Lydia was having her eighth birthday party that afternoon. Things had been going well between them, and Piper found herself caught up in the break of winter weather, the excitement she had for Derek and how hard he seemed to be working to get together with her more often. She hadn’t planned to do it, but on the way to the coffee shop she passed a toy store. The excitement she’d felt picking out a gift for Lydia was tangible. Derek had said she liked to draw, that horses were her favorite animal. She’d found the cutest dapple gray plush pony on a shelf in the window. It was perfect. It only made sense to pick up the metal tin of artist colored pencils, as well. They were a splurge, but she could picture the appreciation on Derek’s face when he saw them. It was a gift to him, too. And it showed that she listened when he talked about the children, that she cared. In that spirit she’d grabbed a large sketchbook, too. The woman at the cash register tucked each item lovingly into a striped bag. When she walked into the coffee shop and set gift bag with the frilly pink bow on the table between them, Derek had looked confused. “What’s this?” he’d asked.

  Piper beamed. “Just a little something I picked out for Lydia.”

  He did not peek into the bag. So she opened it for him. “Look! I found the sweetest little pony. I hope she likes it. Oh, and I remember you said she likes to draw.” She’d reached inside the tissue-paper depths to pull out the stuffed animal.

  The look on his face was not what she’d expected. “What’s wrong?”

  Derek was staring at the bag. He ran his hands through his hair. “Piper. What am I supposed to do with this?”

  Her excitement drained. “Give it to her?”

  “And who am I supposed to tell her it’s from when she asks?” He sounded angry now.

  “I don’t know. I guess I didn’t think about that part.”

  Derek was shaking his head. “That’s right. You didn’t think.”

  Now it was her turn to get angry. “What I was thinking was that she’d like the pony. You said she likes drawing and coloring.” She grabbed the bag and shoved it under the table. “Never mind.”

  Derek leaned across the table, his expression softening. “I’m sorry. You’re right, she would like all of those things. What little girl wouldn’t? But Piper, this would confuse her. She doesn’t know you. And I don’t want to have to lie about who it’s from.”

  Piper concentrated on the space over Derek’s head, on the sign above the coffee counter that listed the menu. Mocha latte. Spiced chai latte. Tears pressed at the corner of her eyes. She’d humiliated herself enough already, she would not let him see her cry. “I’ll return it,” she said under her breath.

  Derek apologized. He explained his point, which now that he said it did make sense to her. It had been a sweet gesture, and he was sorry he couldn’t accept the gift, but what would he tell Lydia? Or his wife?

  Somehow, they’d recovered. She tried to listen as he switched the subject. She tried to taste the sweet vanilla in her coffee that he brought her moments later. But all through their visit, the gift bag hummed beneath the table like a vacuum. She’d been unable to focus on their conversation the rest of the meeting, so aware was she of it. It was as if the very absence of his children had somehow created an awkward presence between them. A part she was not permitted to address, and one that she was denied access to. She understood, of course. There was something sacrilegious about the names of his children coming out of the mouth of his mistress. But it had left her feeling excluded. And stupid. Just another unseen boundary she’d tripped over and fallen on her face in front of him. They were everywhere, these emotional minefields.

  Now, she looked around the store at all the faces coming and going. What would she do if she bumped into Derek and his family? A few days ago, he’d let her walk out on him without even trying to come after her. Her roommates had declared she couldn’t stay there anymore, and she’d packed everything she had and driven home. She’d spent every night since crying herself to sleep, too stubborn to contact him but simultaneously wondering if this meant they were really through. Now Derek was on the Cape. And texting her that he couldn’t stop thinking about her.

  She hopped up and hurried to the front of the store, returning the book to its table before ducking out the bookstore door. It didn’t matter that she was minding her own business. Or that she was surrounded by tourists who knew nothing about her. Piper suddenly felt like she was hiding out in her own hometown. She pulled her baseball hat low over her eyes. All she was missing was a scarlet letter on the front.

  Twenty-Six

  Shannon

  “Are you excited for the Hooker’s Ball?” Lindy asked.

  Shannon had called ahead before stopping by. It was one thing to say that you didn’t want to see your estranged father when he came back. It was another to make that happen. Since her mother had lost her mind and agreed to host a “welcome home!” dinner party, she wasn’t sure what to expect anymore. For all she knew, if she pulled in unannounced she’d find Caleb kicking back on the porch swing with a couple of beers. But Lindy had assured her neither was true. Shannon did not ask how Caleb was. But she did inquire about how her mother felt. It was not every day you hosted a dinner for your missing husband with your new husband and two of your three offspring.

  The dinner had been fine, Lindy said. Though, of course, she was missed. Was Shannon having second thoughts about seeing her father?

  No, Shannon was not.

  Shannon sat on the front steps watching her mother weed the garden beds on either side. She knew she should offer to help, but she was in a blush-colored blouse and her white AG cigarette pants for the office. There was no way she was getting into the dirt. “Bitsy bought two tables this year for the agency. You and Hank should come and sit with us.”

  “Don’t forget your grandmother.”

  Beverly was arriving the next day. Lindy tossed a soil-clodded root into the basket and wiped the back of a gloved hand across her forehead. “I be
lieve her exact words were, ‘You need to dance through this. Or at the very least, drink.’ ”

  Shannon laughed. “The Ball? Or Caleb’s visit?’

  “You know your grandmother. Both.”

  Beverly’s arrival each year was something the three Bailey sisters looked forward to. It was one of the rare times Piper would agree to come home, though she usually timed it for the day their grandmother arrived and left the same day she did. “What’s going on with Piper?” Shannon asked. “She came early and she’s still here.”

  “I wish I knew,” Lindy said. Shannon watched as she dug her trowel deep into the soil. “She seems to have a lot on her plate. Her father, her mysterious new relationship, her job.”

  “She has a job?”

  Lindy looked sideways at her. “She will. You forget how hard it was when you graduated from school.”

  “Mom. Please.”

  “Please what?”

  “I graduated in four years. Then did two-years’ worth of grad school in half the time. Then landed a job before I walked for graduation. Piper has been in school for eight years on and off. With three unrelated degrees to show for it and not a single job to put on her résumé.”

  “As we are well aware, Shannon.”

  Shannon didn’t mean to badger her mother with it all. They all knew, they were all concerned. But they also seemed to forget how hard she had worked to acquire just as many degrees in half the time. All while working some odd job or other as she put herself through. She couldn’t begin to imagine the tens of thousands of dollars of student-loan debt Piper had accrued. “She’s coasting, and everybody acts like it’s all well and good.”

  “Maybe you should talk to her, then,” Lindy replied. She was bent over the flowerbed; her face was shaded by her floppy straw hat, but Shannon knew the look that was on it.

  There was a growing rattling sound, and they both looked up as Piper swerved into the gravel driveway. “Speak of the devil,” Lindy said. The brakes on the ancient Prius squeaked.

  “You need to get that thing fixed,” Shannon said, as Piper stepped out.

  She had a foul look on her face. “It’s just the muffler.”

  “Just the muffler? You sound like a motorcycle gang coming up School Street.” Shannon looked at her mother to echo the sentiment, but Lindy was distracted by something else.

  “What’s wrong, honey?” she asked.

  Piper slammed the car door and trudged up the walkway. “Nothing.”

  “We were just talking about the Hooker’s Ball. Shannon said we can all sit at the Whitcomb Group table.”

  Shannon threw her mother a look. “Well, hang on—I’ll have to check with Bitsy first. I mean, she buys a group table each year. But I don’t think she intends for me to fill it with every member of my family.”

  Piper halted on the walkway. “Relax, Shan. I don’t have any intention of taking up space at your royal family table.”

  This was disappointing news to Lindy, however. “And why not?”

  “Mom.” Shannon interjected. “You heard her. She doesn’t want to go.”

  Piper stopped on the bottom step and waited for Shannon to scoot over so she could pass. “I didn’t say that.”

  “Well, do you want to go?”

  “I’m undecided.”

  Shannon gazed back at her little sister. Her strawberry-blonde hair was springing out at all directions from beneath a worn baseball hat. Her denim shorts were too short. Shannon probably would’ve mustered sympathy for her if only she weren’t so infuriating. “Please decide soon.” She inched over and let her by. “On something,” she added.

  The screen door creaked then slapped shut behind Piper. “I heard that.”

  Lindy was watching Shannon with a mix of maternal impatience and concern. “How about you inquire about the table and let me know?”

  “I’m heading to the office now. I’ll ask. But you know Bitsy. This is a work event for her, and I’m not sure a Bailey family table will go over well.”

  Lindy pulled her gloves off and took a long drink of water. “We can always get another table, I suppose.”

  Shannon didn’t want that either. It would certainly be preferable to sit with her mother and Hank than Bitsy alone. They were good at keeping the conversation light and fun. Even if it meant Piper coming along. Though she’d have to check in on her dress choice. The last time the family had all gone, Piper had shown up in a figure-hugging off-the-shoulder number that her derriere practically hung out of, causing almost every man to do a double take and every woman to wince. The fact that she’d done shots at the open bar with the guest speaker before he addressed the attendees had not improved the evening. “I’ll let you know. I have to get to work. You know that Ridgevale listing that Bitsy handed off to a professional film crew?”

  “The one you’d wanted?”

  “Yes. Well, it turns out they didn’t even show up at their scheduled time. The owner is not happy. We have a meeting with him this afternoon.”

  “So, who’s going to photograph the property?”

  “Funny thing. Bitsy is dumping it in my lap now.”

  Lindy set down her trowel. “Honey, I’m glad for you! You wanted this, right?”

  “Mom, I’m runner-up. Second choice. Who now has to save the day.”

  Lindy shook her head. “Who now has an opportunity. Grab it. Shake it up and put your stamp on it.”

  Her mother was right, but Shannon just couldn’t see it that way. It felt like no matter how hard she worked or how reliable she proved herself to be, she was forever swooping in and doing damage control. “I’ve got to run. I want to work on some concept ideas. We’ve got little time and a demanding seller.” Shannon hurried down the steps to her car.

  “Shannon?” Lindy called to her.

  She turned around.

  “You know, you can always change your mind. It might be a good thing.”

  Shannon hesitated. Her mother wasn’t talking about work or the Hookers Ball. “I’ve spent my whole life doing what’s good. For everybody else.”

  Lindy’s face softened. “I know that, honey. I meant for you.”

  • • •

  Lindy’s words stayed with Shannon as she turned right on Main and then on to Shore Road. Traffic was heavy, and she scooted along the back roads past the golf course on her way to the agency. She’d been so rattled she’d forgotten to stop for coffee.

  Reid took one look at her when she walked through the office door and motioned for her to follow him into the back. There was little privacy in the old building, but he shut the door to his small office and pulled her against him. “Talk to me.”

  Shannon inhaled deeply. Her husband smelled of aftershave and home. “Beverly arrives tomorrow. The dinner party apparently went just fine, without me. And my mother has grand ideas of the whole family coming to the Hooker’s Ball and sitting together at your mother’s table.”

  “Wow. You had quite the visit.”

  She pulled away and tossed her purse in his chair, but she was smiling. “And your mother has yet to reply to my email concerning the photo shoot for the Ridgevale property.”

  “About that! I have news. Banks wants to meet you.”

  “When?” Finally some progress.

  “Today. At two. My mother asked me to pass on the message.”

  Shannon tsked. “She couldn’t email me, herself? What if I wasn’t free at two?” This was typical Bitsy.

  Reid crossed him arms. “Well, she originally asked for noon. But I told her you were busy.”

  Shannon glanced at her watch. It was only eleven thirty. “Why would you do that? I’m free now. I can still make it if I get back to her.” She pulled out her phone, but Reid gently took it from her hand.

  “Because you’re not free. You have a lunch date. With me.”

  • • •

  Lunch was not such a terrible idea, after all. Reid had made a reservation at Impudent Oyster, something they used to do all the time but hadn�
��t in ages. Afterward, he walked her to her car and held open the driver door. He’d taken her in his arms and pressed his chest against hers, holding on for a moment. “What are you doing? I can’t be late.”

  He pulled tighter. “Just breathe.”

  There they were in the middle of town, in the rear lot by Kate Gould Park. But Shannon did as she was told. She felt the warmth of her husband’s chest, the tightness of his arms around her. “I’m proud of you,” he said. “I know this week has asked a lot of you.”

  Her mind ticked through it all. “George started sailing camp. Our baby is now out on the water.”

  “And doing great,” Reid whispered in her hair.

  “And your mother gave that job to some outside crew who didn’t even show up.”

  “But now it’s yours,” he reminded her.

  “Yes, but now I need to get over there. I need to kill this shoot. The seller is a notorious pain in the ass.” She thought a minute. “And Piper’s home, and Wren has her grand opening coming. And now my grandmother’s coming home.” She let out all her breath and let the full weight of her body lean into Reid.

  “As did your father.”

  She stiffened. “That doesn’t change anything.”

  Reid pulled back and looked at her. “Doesn’t it? Shannon, maybe we need to think more about this. Do you want to at least see him once before he leaves? Do we want the kids to meet him?”

  Shannon blinked in the bright afternoon sun. She wished she hadn’t left her sunglasses in the car. She really needed to get over to the Ridgevale House. And she really did not want to talk about her father. She felt the tightness in her shoulders creeping back. Another mimosa would have really done the trick.