The Marriage Agenda: The Marriage Conspiracy / The Billionaire's Baby Plan. Allison Leigh

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      She said, “You still have not bothered to tell me why you thought you had to fly off to Los Angeles out of nowhere like that.”

      “Later,” he said. “There’s a lot to tell and now is not the time.”

      “Were you…in danger?”

      “No.”

      “Was it something for a client?”

      “Jo. Please. Not now.”

      On the couch, Hubert stiffened, snorted and then went on snoring even louder than before.

      Dekker said, “I think we’ve done all we can for him at the moment.”

      “Guess so. Might as well get back to the party. We’re probably out of frilly toothpicks again.”

      Dekker grinned. “DeDe grabbed me a few minutes ago. Something about cutting the cake?”

      “No. It’s too early. They’re still attacking the buffet table. But it is a little cooler now. Safe to get everything set up.”

      “Safe?”

      “That’s right. We can chance taking the cake back outside.”

      “This sounds ominous.”

      “A wedding can be a scary time.”

      “Tell me about it.”

      She took his big, blunt-fingered hand. “Come on.”

      They left Uncle Hubert snoring on the couch and went out to the kitchen, where they enlisted Burly to help Dekker carry the cake back out to the patio.

      * * *

      Once the cake was in position for cutting, Joleen went looking for Niki and Sam. She found them on the front porch, building a castle out of Duplo blocks.

      “Mama. Look.” Sam beamed her his biggest, proudest smile.

      “Wonderful job, baby.” She asked Niki, “Did he eat anything yet?”

      Niki nodded. “He had some corn. And that fruit dish—the one with the coconut? Oh, and he ate about five of those little meatballs.”

      “Milk?”

      “Yeah—and what’s with those Atwood people?”

      What do you mean? Joleen wanted to demand. What did they do?

      She held the questions back. Sam might be only eighteen months old, but you could never be sure of how much he understood. And she didn’t want Niki stirred up, either. She gestured with a toss of her head. Niki got up and followed her down to the other end of the long porch.

      “What do you mean about the Atwoods?” Joleen kept her voice low and her tone even.

      Niki shrugged. “I don’t know. They sure stare a lot.”

      “Have they…bothered you?”

      “I don’t know, Joly. Like I said, they just stare.”

      “They haven’t spoken to you at all?”

      “Well, yeah. Twice. They tried to talk to Sam, but you know how he is sometimes. He got shy, buried his head against my shoulder. Both times they gave up and walked away.”

      So. They had tried to get to know their grandson a little and gotten nowhere. Joleen found herself feeling sorry for them again.

      “No real problems, though?”

      “Uh-uh. Just general creepiness.”

      Joleen reached out, brushed a palm along her sister’s arm. “You’ve been great, taking care of Sam all day.”

      “Yeah. Call me Wonder Girl.” Niki was good with Sam. She took her babysitting duties seriously. In fact, Niki was doing a lot better lately all the way around. She’d given them a real scare last year. But Joleen had begun to believe those problems were behind her now.

      “Want a little break?”

      “Sure—Can I get out of this dress?”

      Joleen hid a smile. Rose-colored satin was hardly her little sister’s style. Niki liked black. Black hip-riding skinny jeans, equally skinny little black T-shirts, black Doc Martens. Sometimes, for variety, she’d wear navy blue or deep purple, but never anything bright. Certainly nothing rosy red.

      “Go ahead and change,” said Joleen.

      Niki beamed. “Thanks.”

      They rejoined Sam at the other end of the porch. “Hey, big guy,” Joleen said. “I need some help.”

      Sam loved to “help.” He considered “helping” to be anything that involved a lot of busyness on his part. Pulling his mother around by her thumb could be “helping,” or carrying items from one place to another.

      Sam set down the red plastic block in his fist and leaned forward, going to his hands and knees. “I hep.” He rocked back to the balls of his feet and pushed himself to an upright position.

      Joleen held out her arms.

      He said something she couldn’t really make out, but she knew he meant he wanted to walk.

      So she took his hand and walked him down the front steps and around to the backyard. When she spotted the Atwoods alone at a table on the far side of the patio, she led him over there.

      Okay, they were snobs. And they made her a little nervous.

      But it had to be awkward for them at this party. They didn’t really know a soul. Joleen had introduced them to her mother and a few of the guests when they first arrived. But they’d been on their own since then.

      All right, maybe Robert Atwood had given her cold looks. Maybe he didn’t approve of her. So what?

      She was going to get along with them if she could possibly manage it. They were Sammy’s grandparents and she would show them respect, give them a little of the slack they didn’t appear to be giving her.

      And besides, who was to say she hadn’t read them all wrong? Maybe staring and glaring was just Robert Atwood’s way of coping with feeling like an outsider.

      When she reached their table, Joleen scooped Sam up into her arms. “Well, how are you two holdin’ up?”

      “We are fine,” said Robert.

      “Yes,” Antonia agreed in that wispy little voice of hers, staring at Sam with misty eyes. “Just fine. Very nice.”

      Joleen felt a tug of sympathy for the woman. A few weeks ago, when the Atwoods had finally agreed to come to her house and meet Sam, Antonia had shown her one of Bobby’s baby pictures. The resemblance to Sam was extraordinary.

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