Cadence of Cranberries - Valerie Comer Page 0,5

always have been Julia’s preference didn’t mean it was Winnie’s.

Wait, Winnie?

Nah. While Winnie wasn’t a common name, it wasn’t that uncommon, either. This woman was highly unlikely to be the one whose latte order he’d memorized back in summer. Not the way she kept saying us and we. This time, there’d be a Mr. Winnie.

“Nothing at all, just yourself... and your daughter, of course! We’re over on West Main. I can text you the address if you like?”

“Sounds good. Thank you very much for the invitation.” Charlie hesitated. Should he ask if she liked lattes? No. What if she was someone else? Then he’d sound like a fool flirting with a married woman. Although it was only a question. No. Too random. He’d see next week.

And he wouldn’t be flirting, either way.

He clicked to end the call, toed off his boots, and headed over to bump the knob on the gas fireplace. It was downright chilly out there, colder than Seattle… but not as cloudy or damp.

Charlie needed to live here at least one winter before deciding to bail out for somewhere tropical. The summer had been fine. He’d enjoyed meeting people at the coffee truck.

Like Winnie.

He didn’t want to leave Spokane before next market season, anyway. He wanted to be the man who fixed Winnie’s coffee every Wednesday evening, especially now that he knew she was single. Widowed.

Charlie had dropped hints of the festivals he’d attend with the coffee truck this fall. If Winnie wanted to find him, she could figure it out. But, of course, she hadn’t. Not that it counted. There was no way he could measure up to the veritable saint her late husband had been.

If anyone deserved another chance at love, it wasn’t Charlie.

So, why was he still thinking about her and wondering if there was any chance he’d just accepted an invitation to her house for Thanksgiving? Even if he had, there was no way it was going anywhere.

Instead of daydreaming by the fire, he should tie on his tennis shoes and go for a run. And get the brown-haired beauty out of his mind.

For at least another week.

Chapter Three

“Al, you would have loved today,” Winnie murmured as she slipped off her heels in her bedroom on Saturday evening. “Your nephew Peter married a lovely lady this afternoon, your nephew Alex popped the question to his girlfriend tonight, and your firstborn is nervously plotting the same thing.” She swallowed hard. “Love is definitely in the air around here.”

A tap sounded on the bedroom door. “Mom? Who’re you talking to?”

She chuckled softly. “Hi, Michael. Come on in.” She sat on the edge of the bed and patted the spot beside her as her youngest peeked around the door. “Wasn’t that a beautiful wedding?”

Michael shrugged. “I guess. The sparklers were pretty cool.” He looked around the room as he crossed to take a seat beside her. Like the little boy he’d been just yesterday, he bounced a couple of times before settling. “You didn’t tell me who you were talking to. Someone on the phone?”

Winnie hesitated. Awkward. “Sometimes I just need to tell your dad stuff. I think he would have enjoyed Peter and Sadie’s wedding. His brothers — your uncles — looked like the kings of the ball, don’t you think?”

Michael’s face fell, not that he’d exactly been sunshine before her words. “That’s weird to talk to him. He’s dead, you know.”

“I know,” she said softly. “I know he can’t hear me. It’s not for him. It’s for me.”

“It doesn’t change anything. Nothing changes anything.”

“I know,” she repeated. Her son’s words sounded like acceptance, but she knew better. He was still angry. Still hurting. Still missing his dad.

So did she. Now she wasn’t allowed to talk to Al lest Michael overhear? Winnie nudged the thought aside. It wasn’t Michael’s fault. He was only a kid hovering on the edge of puberty, struggling to find his place. A place without a father.

Maybe a change of subject would be best. “What do you think of Katri?” Dominic had brought his girlfriend by for lunch, but she’d opted to spend the afternoon with her father rather than come to Peter and Sadie’s wedding.

Winnie could hardly blame the girl. She’d married into the Santoro family herself twenty-seven years ago, and they still overwhelmed her. Oh, Al’s sisters-in-law made sure to include Winnie as one of them, like when they hired a nurse to care for Marietta after her fall last summer. Winnie often stopped by to see how the