Page 11 of A Whim and a Prayer

“I know, and I’m sorry about that now, but gee whiz, everybody knows Mrs. Lawson has the prettiest flowers in the neighborhood.”

“And you sure surprised poor Mrs. Haggerty all right.” Beck chuckled as he shifted to turn into Cathedral High’s parking lot.

Winnie stared at him, remorse sloping her brows. “Come on, Beck—how was I to know ants would invade her kitchen when I put them on her counter in a glass of water?”

He smiled as he gave her knee a playful pinch. “Abs and I are just saying that sometimes you just don’t think things all the way through, Pooh, even nice things like flowers for a neighbor or defending a little girl from a bully. Which is probably why your mother watches you like a hawk, because she worries about you.”

“Amen to that,” Abby said. “Which is why she told my mom she’s grateful we’re best friends.” A twinkle lit in her eyes as her chin nudged up. “She thinks I’ll be a good influence on you.”

“Ha! I suspect it’s more that she wants an older cousin to babysit me.”

Abby took offense. “Hey—I’m only a year older than you, Dennehy, remember?”

“Not to my mom.” Winnie tapped Abby’s shoulder to prod her out of the car. “She thinks you’re ‘ma-ture,’” she teased in a snooty voice, nose in the air.

“That’s because I am.” Abby opened the door and slid out with a wink.

“Yeah?” Winnie taunted her cousin with a knowing grin. “Not if I tell her and your mom that you played the cigarette game at Myra’s pajama party.”

Abby froze. “You wouldn’t.”

“Sure she would,” Beck said, tone nonchalant as he opened his door and rounded the car. “What’s the cigarette game, anyway?”

Winnie’s smile was mischievous. “You pass a lit cigarette around a circle, and everybody takes a puff until the ashes fall. Then whoever’s holding the cigarette when they do, has to answer questions from the group honestly or perform a dare, kind of like Truth or Dare with cigarettes.”

“But you did it too,” Abby defended.

“A-ha!” Winnie hooked an arm to Abby’s waist, giving her a tickle. “But my mom expects it of me, silly, not you. After all, you are the saintly offspring of her saintly sister.”

“Which is actually a good thing, Abs,” Beck said, butting the girls apart to sling an arm over both their shoulders while he steered them toward the door. “Because between the two of us, we can pray for this one here, that she finally trades in her outrageous whims—”

Winnie screeched to a stop. “Uh, spontaneity, if you please.”

He tweaked her neck with a chuckle. “I stand corrected. Pray she trades in her outrageous spontaneity for our mature responsibility.”

“Are you kidding?” Winnie broke free to run ahead, holding the door open with a sassy sway of hips. “That’s what I have you two for!”

Chapter Eight

“Charity, let it go.”

Grrrr … Lips compressed and knitting needles flying, Charity was still fuming over Mitch usurping her authority in front of her children—especially Winnie. For heaven’s sake, they’d always stood united in front of the children before, which had been essential with a hooligan like Henry, certainly.

But as far as Charity was concerned, parental unity was a dire need with a child like Winnie as well, who reminded her far too much of herself as a reckless teen. A young girl on the cusp of womanhood, longing for romance and independence and adventure without the maturity—or spirituality—to handle it.

Charity fought a shiver. Dear Lord, help me to protect Winnie like my parents tried to protect me!

After she and Mitch had adopted Winnie at age five, Charity knew she’d have her hands full with the little dickens, especially when she’d become pregnant with Julia at the very same time. But she was always up for a challenge … or so she thought.

She hadn’t expected a difficult pregnancy at age thirty-four with Julia or the amount of attention a cross-eyed, strong-willed tomboy orphan might need to fit into a family with two older siblings and a newborn.

It didn’t take long for Charity to discover that her rambunctious adopted daughter was more like Charity herself as both a child and a teen than her own two blood-related daughters, which made Charity feel more protective—and stricter—with Winnie than the others.

Unfortunately, Winnie didn’t feel the same way.

It had taken a turn for the worse when Winnie began college last year at Radcliffe—which in and of itself irritated Charity beyond belief because Mitch had insisted on it. Yes, Radcliffe was the premier college for women and as Harvard’s female equivalent, a much sought-after school for any girl lucky enough to attend.

But it was also Marjorie Hennessey’s alma mater—the brazen, hussy niece of Arthur Hennessey, owner of The Boston Herald, and now Mitch’s boss. Charity’s jaw turned to rock. The very vixen who had tried to seduce Mitch over fifteen years ago, almost destroying Charity’s marriage.