Harlow tilted her head and looked at her. “If you want to talk, I’m always here, Winnie.”
“I know. And thanks.” She did know. She just didn’t like picking her emotional scabs in front of people. She went into the main room of the bookstore and found Robbie, Rosie and Grandpop in the sitting area—R and R on the couch, Grandpop in the wingchair across from them.
“Winnie! How beautiful and refreshing you are, like a bowl of oranges! Or a bouquet of daisies! Or a flock of bluebirds!”
“Grandpop, you are the best,” she said. “Lark told me you rescued a squirrel from a tree this morning.”
“Now, now, Winnie,” her grandfather said, his blue eyes twinkling. “He looked very much like a cat, and you know how I love cats.”
“If you fall out of a tree, I’ll have to be Robbie’s best man, so be careful, okay?” She kissed his head, then turned to Robbie and Rosie. “Ready to talk nuptials?”
“I’m already working on my speech,” Grandpop said. “Trying to keep it under half an hour.”
Rosie grinned at Winnie. “It’ll kick ass, Grandpop,” Robbie said.
“Shoot for ten minutes, Grandpop,” Winnie said.
“Are you kidding?” Robbie said. “Take as long as you need, Grandpop. I want to hear how wonderful I am. The favorite grandchild, your best friend, your role model…”
“His gummy supplier. Robbie, you’ll get plenty of attention, okay? Have you thought any more about the ceremony? I sent you some readings and poems and all that. And some samples of vows.”
“We want to write our own,” Rosie said.
“Nice,” Winnie answered. “Always so meaningful. Robbie, I’ll write yours so you don’t embarrass yourself.”
“Hey! When it comes to Rosie, I’m Ed Sheeran.”
“Ew,” Rosie and Winnie said at the same time.
For the next hour, they discussed the logistics of the ceremony. Flower arrangements—“the pretty kind,” Robbie requested—special cocktails (and mocktails, since Rosie, Dad and Nicole didn’t drink). Dresses for the flower girls. A toast from Rosie’s dad, grace by Mom. Winnie had scheduled their cake tasting, and Mr. Wolfe would be choosing the wine.
There would be warm brownies served after cake, an ice cream sundae bar, sandwiches at midnight. For favors, each guest would receive a gift bag containing hand-blown ornaments from Sydenstricker Glass, a jar of local honey, chocolates from Chequessett Chocolates and a candle that allegedly smelled like the Cape air. “How about a pony? Should everyone get a pony?” Robbie asked.
“Dad wants it to be memorable. He’ll have some of his colleagues and clients there.”
“Any celebrities?” Grandpop asked. “I wonder if he knows Helen Mirren. I find her quite attractive.”
“You have a girlfriend,” Winnie reminded him. “But yeah, Rosie, would anyone need security?”
“Uncle Jeff is the only actor coming, I think,” Rosie said.
“Which Jeff is that?” Winnie asked.
“Jeff Bridges.”
“The Big Lebowski is one of my favorite movies!” Grandpop exclaimed. “I wonder if he’d let me take a selfie with him.”
“He would,” Rosie said. “And he won’t need security, don’t worry. Maybe Tom and Rita, but I think Dad said they’d be in New Zealand. We can hang out in LA when we visit Dad.”
“How did you trick her into marrying you again?” Winnie asked.
“Just my good looks and lover-man skills.”
She winced. “Our grandfather is right there.”
“He’s sleeping,” Robbie said. Winnie glanced at Grandpop to confirm.
“Anything else, Winneria?” Robbie asked. “My brain is shutting down.”
