Page 77 of A Whim and a Prayer

Mitch cleared his throat. “So, Beck, hear tell you decimated my wife at spoons the other night? Since I lost early on, I was designated as the sacrificial lamb for Patrick, who in turn, decimated me.”

Beck grinned as he looked down, arms in a fold like Mitch. “She sure gave me a run for my money, sir, along with more than a few nail gouges”—he winced slightly as he glanced up, teeth gritted in a commiserative smile—“so I apologize because Winnie says Mrs. D tends to get a little crabby when she loses.”

It was Mitch’s turn to grin. “An understatement if ever there was.” He cleared his throat once again, not a bit comfortable delving into his daughter’s love life. That was Charity’s bailiwick, not his. So, he did it the only way he knew how—point blank. “You mind telling me why you cancelled Julia’s chess lessons and the dinners?”

The smile faded on Beck’s face as his jaw tightened. “I’m afraid it was Winnie’s idea, sir, not mine.”

Mitch eyed him through pencil-thin lids. “Why?”

“She wants ‘space,’ sir. Time apart for a while.”

Mitch’s face didn’t budge. “Why?”

Beck exhaled slowly, expelling some of the stiffness in his jaw along with it. “I’m afraid that’s a question for Winnie, sir.”

“I’m asking you,” Mitch snapped, his patience in the realm of romance as thin as his eyes.

Beck shrugged, mouth leveled flat as he stared straight ahead. “She just wants time apart, sir, to get our friendship back on track, she says. Apparently the on-stage romance scared her, so she doesn’t want me around for a while.”

Mitch scowled. “Winnie’s not the only Dennehy involved here, Beck—Charity, Julia, and I miss you too—you’re like family to us, Son.”

Beck met Mitch’s gaze head-on, a bit of melancholy in his eyes. “I know, Mr. Dennehy—I feel that way too.” He plowed a hand through his hair as he looked away “Or at least I did all of these years—because you all welcomed me with open arms. But now that Winnie’s made it perfectly clear she doesn’t want me around—”

“And what’s the reason for that, Beck?” Mitch cut him off with a hard tone.

“I told you, sir, she wants to get our friendship back on track.”

“That’s claptrap, Son. You’ve been Winnie’s hero since she was in pinafores. So, what the devil did you do to her to make her turn away like that?”

Beck looked up, the cut of his jaw suddenly as taut as newspaper on a spool. “A cardinal sin, apparently, sir. I fell in love with your daughter.”

Blasting out a noisy gust of air, Mitch gouged a hand through the curls on his head, disrupting them, no doubt, till they matched Beck’s to a frazzle. “That’s what Charity said, but I didn’t believe her because you’ve always been the sun and the moon to Winnie, so it seems impossible.” A colorful word rammed against his teeth as he silenced it with a clamp of his lips before expelling another loud gust of air, his voice a mere mumble. “I just hate it when she’s right.” He peered up through a squint. “So, she’s avoiding you, then, hoping it will cool your heels?”

A nerve twitched in Beck’s cheek. “Yes, sir. She thinks it will force me to revert back to our former friendship, which is all she wants.”

Mitch grunted. “Charity’s convinced Winnie’s in love with you, too, but afraid to go there. And God knows my wife has a sixth sense about these things because those kisses on stage sure looked real to me.”

Beck vented with a long-winded exhale. “They were, sir, on my part for sure, but that’s when I discovered they were real on Winnie’s part, too, but she denies it—vehemently.”

Another grunt popped from Mitch’s lips. “If I didn’t know we’d adopted her, I’d swear Charity spit her out of her mouth because she’s more like her mother than any blood child we’ve given birth to.”

A faint smile lined Beck’s mouth. “Yes, sir, no argument there.”

Mitch gouged the back of his neck with his fingers. “Well, Charity made me promise to fix it, so I’m asking you to come back and continue the lessons for Julia. Winnie will thaw in time, all right?” He rose to leave, hand on the doorknob when Beck’s answer stopped him dead in his tracks.

“No, sir—I’m afraid it’s not all right.”

Mitch whirled around, tone sharp. “What?”

Beck rose from the chair with a square of his shoulders, a conciliatory look on his face. “I’m sorry, sir, but Winnie made me promise to stay away until Christmas, so I can’t break her trust.”

Mitch grunted. “Why not? She breaks mine and her mother’s all the time.”

A hint of a smile shadowed Beck’s lips. “Yes, sir, but I want Winnie to know she can trust me no matter what, because if God allows”—his chin rose with a calm and steadfast look—“I hope to marry her someday.”

Mitch blinked, knowing full well that both he and Charity hoped for that too.

“So … if you’ll be kind enough to apologize to Mrs. Dennehy for me …” He tunneled a hand through his hair as he offered an awkward smile. “And—”