Page 11 of A Summer Mismatch
Lydia shook her head. “Our grandson lives in Orlando. Mary Anne’s son.” Her voice caught on her daughter’s name. “He found this place for us.”
Mary Anne. Winnie’s heart had been broken when she’d heard of her passing last year. She’d sent flowers to the funeral, but she would have loved to be there in person. The news had even shaken Horace. The thought of losing one of their daughters was unthinkable.
An awkward beat passed before Winnie gave into the urge to enfold Lydia into her arms. With the embrace, Winnie let go of any lingering anger and resentment she might have felt for how things happened between Horace and Smitty. Lydia was her friend. And she was hurting.
Lydia’s arms came around her tightly, and Winnie met Smitty’s surprised eyes as he came into the doorway and saw them. He remained reserved and standoffish as he nodded a greeting. The hurt between Smitty and Horace went deep, but Lydia and Winnie’s friendship had been a casualty of an event they’d had no part of.
Both women laughed, a little embarrassed as they pulled away and wiped their eyes. They didn’t say anything about the years they’d been apart. Nothing needed to be said.
Lydia took the quilt from Winnie, untied it, and held it out in front of her. “This is gorgeous, Winnie! It’ll go perfect on the guest bed.”
“Logan’s coming,” Smitty said, and Lydia took Winnie’s arm to lead her through the messy bungalow and outside to the front porch.
“Do you remember Logan?” Lydia asked.
“Yes, of course.” Winnie fondly remembered the little rascal of a boy always running circles around everyone else, his hair never staying straight down and in place. Endless energy, that one, but with the sweetest heart. Horace and Smitty split their business when Flora, Winnie’s daughter, had been pregnant with Julia, and Logan couldn’t have been older than three.
She turned to see that the little rascal of a boy had grown into quite a handsome-looking young man. He held a box labeled fragile, and he carefully walked up the stairs to set it on the kitchen table before coming back outside to give Lydia a hug.
“Logan, this is Winnie, my… friend.”
Winnie couldn’t blame her for stumbling over the phrasing. It was going to take some time to get used to this shift in their relationship.
“Nice to meet you, Miss Winnie.” Logan held her outstretched hand firmly, not like she was a baby bird. She liked that. So many people treated the elderly like they were as fragile as that box he was carrying around, and it drove her nuts. He smelled like sweat and animal, but it wasn’t unpleasant. It was the scent of someone who worked hard.
She could appreciate that.
“I knew you as a child,” Winnie said, “but it’s been a long time. It’s lovely to see you again.”
Logan gave her a self-deprecating smile. “I guess I should just apologize now for anything I did back then.”
Winnie laughed. “You were very sweet, and I only kind of liked that irreplaceable, antique teapot.”
Logan winced, and Lydia laughed along with Winnie. “She’s teasing you. You broke a teapot from The Pottery Barn one year, and you can probably still find that design online.”
“I haven’t heard you laugh in a while, Nonna. It’s nice.”
“Having you close does me good.” Lydia patted him on the arm. “Let’s get the rest of those boxes inside before it gets any hotter, and I’ll fix you some supper.”
“I won’t turn that offer down.” Logan’s smile brightened. She could see the happiness he brought to Lydia, and even the storm clouds in Smitty’s eyes seemed to lighten. “It was nice to meet you, Miss Winnie. And I hope you can forgive me for the teapot.” He winked, and Winnie’s heart skipped like a child heading toward a really good, but also really terrible, idea.
“Oh you,” Lydia said. “Go on.”
He jumped down the steps, a hint of that boyish energy still present, and headed toward the SUV.
“Such a good man,” Lydia said.
But Winnie hardly heard the words. Because in that wink, all she could think about was Julia. How Julia needed a hard worker with kind energy. How she needed someone who treated his grandparents with respect and clearly adored them. How they would look absolutely stunning together, especially if she sewed Julia a seaweed green dress that would not only bring out the green in her hazel eyes, but perfectly match Logan’s.
No. It was an awful idea. Horace would not allow his beloved granddaughter to fall for the son of his enemy. There would be no peace.
Yet, the idea wouldn’t let her go for the rest of the day. Not as she finished Sweetie’s latest outfit. Not when she and Horace were seated for dinner at a seaside table at the restaurant on the pier. And not when they watched Winnie’s favorite singing show together that night.
Polly did say that it might be the person she least expected. Winnie needed input from the Secret Seven, and fast.
Before she crawled into bed that night beside Horace, who had already fallen asleep, she pulled out her phone and sent a group text.
Winnie: SOS
