Cadence of Cranberries - Valerie Comer Page 0,58

themes, colors, flowers, et cetera. Why don’t I email that over, and you and Dominic can decide which direction you want to go? Then I can narrow things down further for you, based on that.”

“Wow, Winnie. That would be so great. I appreciate it. Really, I’m incredibly sorry about Christmas. I didn’t mean—”

“It’s fine, honey.” Winnie did not want to get into the weeds of discussing Charlie with his daughter. She had a wedding to plan, and the more of that she could do without consulting Mr. Money Bags, the better. She’d send him the invoices, and he could do what he did best, solve problems with cash.

“Okay, thank you.”

“You’ve got Dom coming over, and I need to get dinner on for Michael and me.” If her youngest would deign to privilege her with his presence. “I’ll get that off to y—”

“Sorry, Winnie. I need to go. Dad’s called twice while we’ve been talking, so I guess I should find out what his problem is.” Katri chuckled. “Talk to you again soon.”

Maybe Winnie should feel a tiny bit guilty about getting to Katri before Charlie did but, on the other hand, kudos to her for not dragging their kids into their relationship woes. Things were tangled enough.

Or, they had been. Because Winnie was done. She only had two goals for the next five months. Plan the nicest possible wedding for her oldest son, and guide and protect her youngest through this awkward stage of life.

Winnie didn’t deserve to find love again, anyway. Her memories of life with Al would have to be enough. If Marietta could find contentment as a widow for a quarter of a century, lavishing all her love and attention on her kids and grandkids, so could Winnie.

Michael stomped up the stairs as Winnie added the last couple of links to her email to Katri. She clicked send then turned a bright smile at her son.

Yikes. Not that anything would soften the glower on his face. “Hi, buddy. Leftover Chinese for dinner?” Sudden inspiration struck her. “Or we could go out to Frank’s Diner, if you like.” They served breakfast all day, and Michael loved the omelets there.

His eyebrows angled up. “Just a minute.”

She waited.

“You got mad at Charlie for giving me a birthday present. Now you’re buying me supper to cheer me up? How’s that different?”

Winnie opened her mouth and closed it again while her brain scrambled for an explanation he would accept. “It’s different because you’re my kid, your brother and sister are on a ski trip, and we still need to eat.”

“Whatever.” Michael shook his head. “Chinese is fine. I wouldn’t want your conscience bothering you.”

“My con—” And then it slammed her. She was guilty of trying to smooth things over just like Charlie. Sure, Michael was her kid, and Charlie should have asked. But all that other stuff she’d said about dangling bribes? Totally guilty.

Her son opened the fridge and peered inside. “Can I eat the rest of the Ginger Beef?”

“Sure. I like the Szechuan Pork just as well. I think there are leftover egg rolls, too.”

“Kay.” He dumped the takeout leftovers onto a plate and shoved it into the microwave.

“Mikey, why do you hate Charlie?”

“I don’t hate him, exactly.” Michael leaned against the counter and crossed his arms. “It’s just, he’s not Dad, you know?”

She knew, all right.

“But he’s sort of okay, I guess. Landon and Dominic told me to give him a chance, and then Charlie offered me something really great, and then you over-reacted—”

“Did I, really?”

“Well, yeah. What’s wrong with letting me go to a pro game? Dad would have let me.”

If Al were alive, they wouldn’t be having this conversation. Not even close. “You’re thirteen years old—”

“I’ll be fourteen next week. I’m not a kid anymore.”

“I know.” But he’d always be her baby. “But you’re a minor, which means I have final say in whether you can travel without me. Even Landon would require my permission.” Maybe she should have told Michael about the other side of the argument. She’d figured it was simplest to leave the safety aspect out of the equation with her son. No need to make him paranoid, since it wasn’t that she didn’t trust Charlie. She did. Only, everything was so complicated. Charlie should have known better than to ask. That was the bottom line.

“Charlie didn’t invite Landon. Don’t you understand? I never get to do anything. Everyone thinks I’m just a little kid, but I’m not.” He pivoted as the microwave beeped, grabbed