"Your nice young man. He's very charming, very handsome. My goodness, Piper, you know how to pick ‘em."
Nate Windemerecame to see my Nana?
"Are you sure? How do you know it was him?"
"Nate Windemere of the Connecticut Windemeres? He's an easy one to spot, Piper. I mean, just look at him. I met his mother many years ago. Interesting woman."
My pulse begins to pound. I can barely grasp the concept that Nate came to see my Nana.
"What did he want?" I ask.
"Like you, he wanted to make sure that I would be taken care of. He asked if I needed anything. If I was comfortable. And he bought me something."
She points to the Christmas tree. I didn't see it at first, but I spot it immediately now.
"It's not really an ornament. It's meant to be hung in a window where the light can reflect off the little diamonds. But I wasn't ready to take my tree down and it looks nice there."
It's a small, golden butterfly with diamonds scattered over the wings. It glitters in the fluorescent lights, and I imagine how brilliant it will be in full sun.
"He brought you a gift?" I sputter.
"He's a very considerate young man."
Focusing on the butterfly, I try to work the timeline in my head as to when Nate would've been here. It was after I left his house, of course. And before the dance recital. Which leaves a lot of space in between. I never told him my Nana's name, or where she resided. He did the work to find that information. And the only thing he wanted when he got here was to check on her well-being.
"I'm sad to hear that you and Nate Windemere aren’tan item," Nana says wistfully. "But I am serious about what I said about university. Promise me you’ll go back.”
"He offered me a dance studio," I tell her.
Nana sits up a little straighter. "Really?”
"He bought me a dance studio and said that it's my business if I want it. I do want it, don't I, Nana?"
She smiles brilliantly, as if he handed her a shiny new business, too. "I believe he's offering you an olive branch, dear. And an investment in your future."
She cups my cheek and then picks up her crocheting again. And that's it, that's the end of the conversation. She resumes working on her scarf, as if knowing I need to sit in silence and think.
I have decisions to make. I have risks to take.
And all of them involve Nate Windemere.
40
PIPER-LILY
“Hi, Joel. Come on in.”
Secret punk rock lawyer nods in greeting as I welcome him into Cleo’s mom’s place. He called yesterday asking for a meeting, and I could barely sleep from wondering what he had to say.
I’m sure it’s about the studio Nate mentioned, but I’m afraid to get my hopes up too high.
I have coffee ready as we sit in Cleo’s living room on the huge white leather sofa. He wastes no time in taking out a stack of papers from his briefcase and sorting them on his lap before handing me a sheaf.
“This is your copy. I figured we’d go through this page by page, like we did with your contract. Does that work?”
Daunted by the sheer number of pages, I pour a steaming cup of coffee and settle in for the ride. Except that I can’t settle my nerves, and I realize coffee will only make it worse.
“Actually, can you just give me the summary, Joel?”
