But it wasn’t the end of the world, right?
“It’s not,” she whispered to herself. “He’ll be back. You’ll explain.”
Piper filled her lungs slowly and ambled off the dock on stiff legs, ignoring the questioning looks of the people she passed. Okay, fine. She’d missed the boat. That sucked. Really, really bad. It made her sick to think he’d be under the assumption that their relationship was over for two days. It wasn’t, though. And if she had to scream and beg when Brendan got home, she would. He’d listen. He’d understand, wouldn’t he?
She ended up outside of Cross and Daughters but didn’t remember any part of the walk. It hurt to be there when so much of Brendan filled the space. His pergola. The chandelier he’d hung. His scent. It was still there from the day before.
Pressure crowded her throat again, but she swallowed it determinedly.
She had to call distributors and confirm deliveries for Monday’s grand opening. She didn’t even have an outfit yet, and then there was the meeting this afternoon with Patty and Val. To help plan the party. She was up for exactly none of it, but she’d soldier on. She could make it through the next two days. Her heart would just have to deal.
That afternoon, Piper and Hannah met Patty and Val in Blow the Man Down, and they divvied up responsibilities. Hannah was, of course, the DJ and already had an end-of-summer soundtrack ready to fire up. Patty offered to bring firework cupcakes and Val suggested raffling off prizes from local vendors. Mostly they day drank and talked about makeup, and that helped numb some of Piper’s heaviest anxieties that Brendan was lost to her. That he’d already given up.
Have faith.
Have faith.
* * *
It was noon on Labor Day when Daniel called to cancel.
Piper was busy stocking the bins behind the bar with ice, so Hannah answered the phone—and one look at her sister’s face told Piper everything she needed to know. Hannah put the call on speaker, and Piper listened with her hands unmoving in the ice.
“Girls, I can’t make it. I’m so sorry. We’re having some last-minute casting issues, and I have to fly to New York for a face-to-face with a talent rep and his client.”
Piper should have been used to this. Should have been prepared for their stepfather to flake at the last possible second. In his line of work, there were always flights to New York or Miami or London at the eleventh hour. Until that moment, she hadn’t realized how badly she was looking forward to showing Daniel what they’d accomplished with Cross and Daughters. For better or worse, Daniel was the man who’d raised her, given her everything. She’d just wanted to show him it hadn’t been for nothing. That she could create something worthwhile if given the opportunity. But she wouldn’t get that chance now.
After Brendan left without a good-bye, her stepfather’s cancellation was another blow to the midsection. Neither one of them believed in her. Or had any faith.
She had faith in herself, though. Didn’t she? Even if it was beginning to fray around the edges and unravel the closer it came to grand-opening time. But Brendan would be back tonight and the certainty of that calmed her. Maybe he’d return angry with her or disappointed, but he’d be back on solid ground and she’d fight to make him listen. She’d keep fighting until his belief in her returned.
That plan helped center Piper, and she worked, stocking beer and setting out coasters, napkins, straws, pint glasses, orange wedges for the wheat beer. She and Hannah did some last-minute cleaning and hung the grand opening banner they’d painted the previous night outside. And then they stood in the center of the bar and surveyed what they’d done, both of them kind of dumbstruck at the transformation. When they’d arrived over a month ago, the place had been nothing but dust bunnies and barrels. It was still kind of a dive, but hell if it wasn’t chic and a lot more welcoming.
At least to them.
But by six thirty, no one had darkened the door of Cross and Daughters.
Hannah sat in the DJ booth shuffling through her summer mix, and Piper stood behind the bar wringing her hands and obsessively checking the time on her phone. She had nine new messages from Kirby, all since this morning, demanding she get her ass on a plane back to Los Angeles. Piper had let the invitation hang for way too long, and now she didn’t know how to turn down the party. And under duress, she could admit . . . she’d peeked at some of Kirby’s emails detailing the guest list and the designer dress options.
If she was going, she’d pick the black Monique Lhuillier with the plunging neckline.
She really did need to let Kirby know she couldn’t make it tomorrow night, but for some reason, Piper couldn’t bring herself to send the text. To sever that final tie when she was still so shaken up from Brendan walking out. From having that steady, dependable presence ripped away when she needed it most. And the thing about LA parties was, if she didn’t show up, no one would really care. There would be five minutes of speculation and some fleeting disappointment before everyone went back to doing lines and guzzling vodka.