was physically attracted to Charlie Jalonen? None of those were answers for a young teen. “Because I like him.” It would have to do.
He shot out of his chair so quickly it tumbled backward to the floor. “I don’t. He came to the basketball court today. Watched me play. It creeped me out. Why does he think it’s okay to tell me I did a good job? That’s for Uncle Ray or my cousins, not for him.”
“Michael...”
“Mom, don’t.” Tears filled his eyes before he turned, righted his chair, and fled the room.
That hadn’t gone over well at all. She looked around at the other three. “I’m honestly not sure what to do now.”
“He’ll come around.” Like Gabriella understood thirteen-year-old boys. No one did.
“You can’t let him run your life,” Brittany put in. “I like Charlie. He’s funny, and he’s respectful, and he’s a Christian.”
Landon nodded. “Can’t say I saw this coming, but you do you. Don’t worry about Squeak.”
Brittany turned to her brother. “He doesn’t want to be called that.”
“It’s what he is.”
“I’ll side with Michael on this one.” Winnie folded her napkin. “It was cute when he was little, but I can see how it always reminds him he’s not one of you older kids.”
“Not one of—” Landon stared at her. “Huh. I guess.”
Gabby rose and began stacking plates. “Mom, listen. Landon and Britt are right. You can’t put your life on hold because of Michael. I know Dad would want you to be happy.”
Could Winnie be happy if it came at the price of Michael’s unhappiness? Was it fair? Well, no. Not much in life was. Al’s death sure hadn’t been.
What would Al counsel? He’d had a special bond with their youngest but, even if he’d lived, it didn’t mean Michael wouldn’t have gone through a tumultuous time approaching puberty. Kids did. Girls and boys both. So... not all of Michael’s attitude could be laid at Al’s death.
That was somewhat freeing, actually.
She stood to join the kids clearing away the remnants of their meal.
Landon slung his arm over her shoulder. “Want me to talk to him?”
“If you think it might do any good.”
“I could be bribed with a batch of apple cinnamon muffins. I’m so over cranberries.” He winked.
That middle son of hers knew how to make her laugh. “You’ve got it, bud. Either way.”
Chapter Eleven
Charlie laced up his ice skates on a bench beside the skating circuit. Flames blazed in a nearby fire pit, peppy Christmas music boomed through speakers, and the crisp smell of snow mingled with the aroma of hot cocoa. Across the area, a towering spruce tree glistened with festive blue and green lights. Dozens of skaters already circled the flowing ribbon of ice beneath a canopy of mini-lights.
He glanced at the woman at his side as she tugged on her second lace. “Got ’em tight?”
Winnie smiled at him. “Tight enough to cut off circulation. In other words, perfect.” She rose to her feet and stomped one skate then the other. She’d do. Lot of people couldn’t do that without falling, whether on the actual ice surface or off.
Charlie held out his hand, and Winnie clasped it with hers. They were both wearing light gloves — the below-freezing temperature demanded that concession — but he could feel her warmth through both layers.
Maybe it was a good thing the Ribbon’s rules forbad him from skating backwards and showing off. It’d been a couple of years since he’d been on skates, and he hadn’t done it often since his youth. Still, his body remembered what to do, and it didn’t take long for him to get into a good stride.
Same went for Winnie. After a couple of mis-glides, her stride strengthened.
Looked like they’d be faster than most on the Ribbon. He tugged them further to the left of the sixteen-foot-wide circuit to avoid the rail-hugging newbies struggling to stay upright. He glanced over as they began the second round, his heart warming at the soft smile on Winnie’s face. “Having fun?”
“I’d forgotten how much I liked this.”
“Me, too. Gonna feel it tomorrow, though.”
She grinned, her eyes sparkling. “I was just thinking the same thing. This uses muscles that don’t get a workout very often.”
“You look like you work out all the time.”
Winnie laughed. “Don’t get smarmy on me.”
“What? How did that sound insincere?” Charlie feigned a wounded expression and leaned closer. “Because you are in great shape. Or have a great shape. Whichever you prefer to hear. Both are true.”
Her cheeks, rosy from the cold, may