Cadence of Cranberries - Valerie Comer Page 0,59
his plate and a fork and headed for the stairs.
“Michael.”
He paused at the top then turned slowly, glaring at her.
“I love you. I’m sorry everything seems so messy right now.”
A questioning look lifted his brows. “So... can I go with Charlie?”
“No.”
He rolled his eyes. “Figures.” And he stomped down the stairs.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Winnie hadn’t heard from Charlie in over a week. Wedding stuff didn’t count, not when there was no personal note. She’d sent over the first invoice from Adriana, who was custom-sewing Katri’s dress and had purchased the fabric and lace. He’d responded with one word. Paid.
She’d been the one to say their relationship was over, but had she meant it? She thought she had, but maybe she’d hoped he’d be persistent. He would if he really cared, right?
But it looked like it’d been a little cranberry-laced interlude for him. She was the one losing sleep, not him.
The door to the carport opened, and Brittany, Gabriella, and Ava entered.
“Where do you want this, Aunt Winnie?” Ava carried a salted-caramel cake from Bridgeview Bakery and Bistro, where she and Gabby both worked part-time around their schedules.
“On the counter by the fridge. Mmm, that looks great. Michael will love it.” Her youngest shared her weakness for that flavor combination. Winnie looked quizzically at the packages her daughters carried. “What have you got there?”
“Prezzies for Squea — Mikey. In the living room?” Brittany turned slightly, shielding the basketball-covered paper from a large cube as she toed off her boots.
“Sure. But you shouldn’t spoil him.”
Britt rolled her eyes and went through to the other room. “Hiya, Mikey. Happy birthday!”
“Thanks. Ooh, what’s in that one?”
Winnie paused in the middle of the kitchen to listen.
“Like I’d tell you. A little patience never hurt anyone.”
“Hey, leave my hair alone!”
Winnie chuckled as she pictured Brittany giving her little brother a noogie.
“Who is it from?” There was a pause while Winnie’s heart hiccupped. “Charlie? What did he get me?”
“How should I know? And leave it alone, Mikey. Dinner is almost ready. Go look at your birthday cake. Hailey decorated it for you. It’s awesome.”
“Why won’t you give me a clue? I just want to shake it.”
“Michael! Dinner is almost ready. Come on in the kitchen. We’ll get to gifts soon enough.”
“Aw, Mom. Can we do presents first?”
“Have we ever?” Winnie called back.
“No, I guess.” He trundled into the kitchen. “Do you know what it is, Mom?”
She forced a grin between clenched teeth. She did not. And what was Charlie thinking, sending her son a birthday present? Especially one that looked basketball related. She wanted to be angry he’d given Michael something again without her permission, but that was ridiculous. How could she require anyone to give permission for that? Dangling a trip in front of Michael was one thing, but a regular old gift? The thing made her nervous, but she couldn’t quibble.
Winnie set supper on the table, takeout from Antonio’s where her chef nephew had prepared a large Caesar salad and a zucchini lasagna, one of Michael’s favorites. “Who wants to pray?”
“I will.” Landon bent his neck and folded his hands. “Thank You, Lord, for this great food and for Mikey’s birthday. I pray you’ll give my brother a great year and that You’ll be close to him. In Jesus’ name, amen.”
“Amen,” the girls chorused, while Michael shoved Landon’s shoulder and got the same thing in return.
Guys.
If only Charlie were here. He’d sent a gift with the girls — that probably meant he’d swung by the bakery on purpose to deliver it instead of stopping at the house. He probably thought she’d make him take it back. But she wouldn’t have. Really. This wasn’t like a trip to the NBA. She missed Charlie like a limb had been removed from her body. Different than she missed Al, of course, because she and Al had shared many years together as well as the births of their five children. But Charlie? He’d wormed his way into her heart with very little effort and in a surprisingly short time.
“Earth to Mom?”
Winnie blinked. The kids were all staring at her, and Brittany slipped a plate of lasagna in front of her. “Um, sorry.”
Brittany glanced around the table. “So, tell me what’s going on with Charlie these days?” Oh, the sound of youthful innocence... springing a trap.
“Nothing at all. Landon, can I pass you the garlic toast?”
He held up a piece, eyebrows raised. “We’re all a little curious what’s going on, Mom.”
“I answered. Nothing is going on. May we please drop it?”
The kids