Читать книгу The Marriage Agenda: The Marriage Conspiracy / The Billionaire's Baby Plan - Allison Leigh - Страница 13

They broke the news to the family the next day, at dinner. Uncle Stan and his wife, Aunt Catherine, were there. So were Bud and Burly. And Aunt LeeAnne and Uncle Foley. They’d all come by in the afternoon to help with the after-wedding cleanup.

Uncle Hubert was there, too. He had never left. He hadn’t been much use as a worker, since he was nursing a sick hangover from his excesses the day before, but he came to the table when Camilla called him, so he heard the announcement right along with everyone else.

Niki cried. And so did Aunt LeeAnne.

“Oh, what did I tell you, hon?” Aunt LeeAnne sobbed. “I said you’d be next and wasn’t I right?”

Joleen handed her aunt a tissue, gave her a hug, and agreed that yes, she had been right.

Uncle Hubert said, “This calls for a little drink, to celebrate.”

Aunt LeeAnne sniffed. “The last thing anyone needs right now, Hubert, is a little drink.”

Hubert, sober right then and at least somewhat abashed after his behavior at the wedding, had the grace not to argue with her. “Pass those little red pepper things,” he mumbled.

They were having take-out. Camilla had ordered five giant-size deep-dish meat-lover’s-style pizzas to feed the hungry cleanup crew.

Niki grabbed a tissue of her own and blew her nose. Then she reached for another big slice. “Oh, I can’t believe it,” she sniffled and swiped at her still-leaking eyes. “Dekker and Joly…married. Dekker will be like my brother for real.…”

There were more hugs, from Aunt Catherine and Uncle Stan. And lots of good wishes and hearty congratulations from Bud and Burly and Uncle Foley, too.

Camilla did not cry. She didn’t say much, either, a fact that Joleen hardly noticed, since everyone else seemed to be talking nonstop.

After they’d finished off the pizzas, Joleen said she and Sam had to get on home. Tomorrow, after all, would be a workday. She had laundry to take care of and she needed to fit in a trip to the store. Her refrigerator was empty. In the past few days DeDe’s wedding had put her own life completely on hold.

Dekker said he had to get going, too. He walked her to her hatchback economy car before climbing into his battered metal-flake blue Plymouth Road Runner, which he’d had since time began and which bore the dubious distinction of being a year older than he was.

Joleen strapped Sam into his car seat in back and then went around to slide behind the wheel.

Dekker shut her door and leaned in her window. “I thought it went pretty well.”

“I thought so, too. But there’s a lot more left to tell.”

They hadn’t even mentioned the change in Dekker’s fortunes. That would take some explaining and seemed better accomplished one-on-one. Joleen would tell her mother and Niki the story privately. And she’d tell DeDe, too, as soon as her middle sister returned from her wedding trip.

And then there was the news about the Atwoods. They’d have to get into that unpleasant subject with the family at some point.

And the new babysitting arrangements would have to be handled, as well. As a rule DeDe watched Sam in the mornings, Joleen or her mother took over for a couple of hours after lunch. Then when Niki got home from school, she would be on duty until six or so, when Joleen got through at the salon. Dotty Hendershot, the sweet older lady who lived next door to Camilla, in the house where Dekker had grown up, would pick up the slack.

All that would change now. But further discussion last night had brought them to the conclusion that they didn’t have to deal with the child-care issue right away. The wedding would be simple and soon—by the end of the week, they were thinking. And Dekker had proposed a honeymoon, one with Sam included. Dekker said he could afford it, and they both agreed it would be good to have a little time away together, just the three of them, at the start of their new life as a family.

So they would take two weeks for a wedding trip—destination to be decided in the next few days. And when they came home, Joleen would begin looking for the right day care for Sam. By the time the Atwoods geared up to drag her before a judge, she and Dekker would have all the bases covered.

Dekker touched the side of her face. “What is that frown for?”

“Just thinking about how much has to be done.”

“Worrying, you mean.”

“Maybe…”

“You worry too much, Jo. We’ll get to it. To all of it. Little by little.”

She produced a smile for him. “I know.”

“One thing you do need to deal with right away. Your blood test. I’m going to get mine taken care of tomorrow.”

“I’ve got no appointments between one and three. I’ll see if I can fit it in then.”

“Good. And what do you think of a week in L.A. and then maybe Maui for the other week?”

“L.A.? Would we visit your brother?”

“If that’s okay with you. I have a standing invitation.”

“We’d stay at his house?”

“That’s right.”

“But wouldn’t that be inconvenient for him, on such short notice?”

Dekker laughed. “We could stay at Jonas’s house for a month and never even set eyes on him, if he didn’t want to see us. Angel’s Crest is enormous.”

“Angel’s Crest?”

“The Bravo mansion.”

“His house has a name?”

“That’s right. Angel’s Crest is on a hill, in Bel Air. It’s an incredible place. Ocean and city views from just about every room in the house. It’s been in the Bravo family for three generations, I think Jonas said.”

“This is sounding very interesting.”

“And did I mention Mandy? I want Sam to meet her.”

“Who?”

“Amanda is two. She’s Jonas’s adopted sister.”

“Wait a minute. Your, uh, real mother adopted a baby girl, before she died?”

“That’s right. And now Jonas and Emma are raising her.”

“So Sam will have an aunt who is two?”

“I hadn’t thought of it that way, but yes. He will.”

“Well, what can I say? Sam just has to meet his Aunt Mandy.”

“Are you telling me yes to a week in L.A.?”

“I sure am.”

“And then Hawaii?”

“Why not?”

“Or maybe I’ll just wait. Keep it open-ended. We can decide what we want to do next after we get to L.A.”

“That’s fine.”

“Okay, then.” He stepped back from her door, touched his temple in a goodbye salute and headed for his own car.

* * *

Joleen returned to her mother’s at eight-thirty the next morning. Camilla had agreed to watch Sam for a couple of hours. Joleen planned to run a few errands without the distractions a toddler presented before she opened the salon at nine-thirty. When she came to work herself, Camilla would take Sam to Dotty next door.

Camilla was never an early riser by choice. Usually, Joleen had to shake her awake and stick a cup of coffee under her nose any time she had babysitting duty before ten or so.

But that morning Joleen walked into the kitchen with Sam in her arms and found Camilla sitting in the breakfast nook, her coffee already in front of her, wide-awake and fully dressed.

Joleen started at the sight. “Mama. You’re up.”

“Yes, I am, baby,” said Camilla in a determined tone.

Sam put both hands on Joleen’s shoulder and gave a push. “Dow, Mama. Pway.”

Joleen bent to let him to the floor. He toddled off toward the living room where Camilla kept a big bin of toys just for him.

“Has Niki already left for school?”

Camilla nodded, picked up her coffee and took a delicate sip.

“Uncle Hubert and everyone finally go home?”

“Yes, they did.”

Joleen wondered why it felt as if something wasn’t right. “Everything okay, Mama?”

Camilla answered by lifting a shoulder in a shrug.

“Well,” Joleen said brightly. “Since you are up and about, I might as well get goin’. When’s your first appointment?”

“I have got a facial and cosmetic consultation at eleven.” Camilla didn’t do hair anymore. She specialized in facial care—everything from herbal masks to makeovers. A couple of years ago she’d brought in a pricey new line of products, which she used and promoted exclusively. The line was a big success, mostly because Camilla had the knack for exploiting and enhancing the natural beauty of each of her clients.

“Okay, then.” Joleen started for the front door. “I’ll see you at eleven.”

“Baby.” Her mother’s voice was flat.

Joleen turned. “What is the matter, Mama?”

“Have some coffee.”

“I really want to get—”

“I know you do. You always do. But whatever it is can wait. We need to talk.”

“Mama, can’t we talk a little later? I’ve got to be at the shop in an hour and before that I want to—”

“Don’t argue with me, now. Get yourself some coffee and sit down here with me.”

“Mama, I have got to get goin’.”

Her mother just looked at her.

“Oh, all right.” Joleen got a mug from the cupboard, filled it and took the chair across from her mother. “Now, what is it that just cannot wait?”

Camilla had stopped looking at Joleen. Now she stared into her coffee cup, her mouth drawn down at the corners, as if there might be something in there that shouldn’t be.

Joleen, who needed to get to the cleaners and make a quick stop at WalMart before she headed over to one of the major beauty supply houses to pick up a few popular products they had run low on, couldn’t keep herself from making a small, impatient sound in her throat.

Camilla heaved a deep sigh and shook her head at her coffee cup. “I find I don’t quite know how to say this.”

That suits me just fine, Joleen thought. “It’s okay. We can talk later.” She started to stand. “Tonight, after—”

“No, you don’t.” Camilla’s hand closed over her arm. “You are not escapin’ me.”

Joleen stared at her mother’s hand, which was soft and slim, the smooth square-filed nails polished a shimmery bronze. It did not look like the hand of a fifty-year-old woman, not by a long shot. Joleen wished her own hands looked half that good. But Joleen still did hair. And she had no shampoo girl, so she spent a lot of her working life knuckle-deep in lather. Very hard on the hands.

Camilla said. “I have been awake half the night worryin’ over you.”

“Why?”

“Sit back down.”

Joleen dropped into the chair again. “All right, Mama. I’m sitting. Talk.”

“I am just going to ask you directly.”

“I sure wish you would.”

Camilla let go of Joleen’s arm and threw up both hands. “What on God’s green earth has possessed you to think a marriage between you and Dekker is a good idea?”

Joleen felt pure indignation. She decided to let it show. “Mama! I love Dekker. And he loves me.”

Camilla smacked one slim, soft hand on the table and waved the other one in the air. “Yes, and I love your uncle Foley. But I never would marry him.”

“Uncle Foley is your brother, Mama.”

“Exactly. And that’s how I love him. Like a brother. The same way that you love Dekker Smith.”

Oh, this was getting sticky already. As Joleen had known it would, as she’d tried to get Dekker to understand it would.

Half-truths and evasions, she though glumly. Comin’ right up…

“Well?” said her mother on a hard huff of breath.

“I love him,” Joleen said again, and she stared her mother straight in the eye.

Her mother stared right back. “You don’t love him the way a woman loves a man,” she accused. “And he doesn’t have that soul feelin’ for you, either.”

“You do not know that,” Joleen said. “You do not know what we feel.”

“Oh, yes I do. I know my baby. And I know Lorraine’s boy. I also know that you both deserve better than to marry a person who does not set your heart on fire. You both deserve it all. Passion and excitement. And magic. I want those things for you—and I want them for Dekker, too.”

Joleen wrapped her hands around her cup. The warmth felt comforting against her palms. She said honestly, “Both Dekker and I had those things once, Mama. They didn’t last.”

“Bobby Atwood and Stacey?” Her mother made a low, scoffing sound.

Joleen’s indignation level rose again. “Yes. Bobby Atwood. And Stacey. You know how Dekker was about Stacey.”

“There were terrible problems in that marriage, baby.”

“I know that. I am not saying they didn’t have problems. I am only saying he loved her. In a passionate way. A soul way. And Bobby, well, it shames me to have to admit it now, but I was long gone in love with that man.”

“Oh, that is so not true.”

“Mama—”

“You thought you were long gone in love with that man. You wanted to be. You were waiting for your knight in shinin’ armor to thunder in on a fine white horse and sweep you away. You waited a long time. When that young Atwood showed up, with his smooth talk and his fancy car and winnin’ smile, you were like a nice, ripe peach, just ready to drop off the tree. And you did drop. You dropped good and hard. But that was not—”

“Mama—”

“Pardon me. I believe that I was still speaking.”

“Fine. Speak. Finish.”

“What I’m saying is—and you are listening, aren’t you?”

Joleen gritted her teeth. “I am, Mama. I am listening.”

Camilla’s eyebrows had a skeptical lift—but she did continue. “What I’m saying is that what happened with Bobby Atwood was not it—was not love. And Dekker and Stacey, well, that was certainly something, but it wasn’t it, either. Not the real, true, deep lifelong passion I am talking about. Not what I had with your daddy. Not what DeDe has with Wayne.”

“Mama. Some people never find that kind of love.”

“We are not talking about some people. We are talking about you. And Dekker. My first baby. And my best friend’s little boy.”

“Well, maybe you have to stop thinking of us that way—as your baby and Lorraine’s little boy. We are grown people now. We have a right to make our own decisions about life. And about who we will love.”

“I never said that you didn’t. I just don’t like this.” Camilla looked into her cup again—and then sharply up to snare her daughter’s gaze. “Something else is goin’ on here. I know it. I can feel it.”

Joleen kept her face composed—and told some more lies. “Nothing is going on, Mama. I don’t know what you mean.”

“Oh, you do. You know. There is something.…” Camilla pushed her cup to the side and leaned across the table. “Is it…those Atwood people? You went off alone with them, didn’t you, before they left the wedding Saturday? I saw you go inside with them.”

Joleen opened her mouth to let out more lies. And then shut it. Camilla would have to hear the truth about the Atwoods sooner or later.

“Yes,” Joleen said. “They wanted to talk to me.”

“About…?”

Sam was too quiet. Joleen stood.

“What is it now?” muttered her mother. But Camilla had had three children of her own. She nodded. “Go on. Check—and then get right back in here.”

Joleen went through the dining room. She found her little boy sitting on the hooked rug near the big window at the front of the house, playing with the wooden blocks one of the uncles had given him for his first birthday six months before.

Sam looked up. “How,” he said, beaming proudly at the crooked stacks of blocks in front of him.

“Yes,” said Joleen, her chest suddenly tight. “A very fine house.” She would do anything—anything, including telling her dear mama a thousand rotten lies—to keep her boy safe, to be there whenever he needed her. To get to see his face now and then when he smiled like he was smiling now.…

She took in a deep breath to loosen those bands of emotion that had squeezed around her heart. Then she asked slowly, pronouncing each word with care, “Come in the kitchen? With Grandma and me?”

He shook his head and loosed a string of nonsense syllables.

“You mean, you want to stay here?”

“Pway.”

She wanted to scoop him up hard against her heart, to hug him until he squirmed to get down. But no. He was content, sitting on her mama’s rug, playing with his house of blocks. Why ruin that?

“Okay. Be good.”

“I goo.”

Her steps dragging, Joleen returned to the breakfast nook. She slid back into her chair. “He’s fine.”

“All right. What did the Atwoods want to talk with you about?”

Joleen took a fortifying sip of her coffee. And then she told her mother everything that had transpired in her father’s study before the Atwoods took their leave.

When she had finished, Camilla picked up her coffee cup, started to sip, realized it was empty and set it back down—hard. “Oh sweetheart, the nerve of those people.”

“I hear you, Mama.”

“I did not like that Robert Atwood. Right from the first I saw that he would be trouble. Thinks he’s a cut above, doesn’t he? That he’s better than the rest of us. And the woman, Antonia? Well, I’m willin’ to admit I felt sorry for her. Scared of her own shadow, and wearing mauve, of all colors. Much too cool for her. Just faded her right out to nothin’ at all. She needs a bright, warm palette, to bring out that peach tone in her—”

“Mama.”

“Oh, well, all right. I’m rambling and I know it. It’s just, what else can I say, but how dare they?”

“I asked myself that same question.”

Camilla folded those beautiful hands on the tabletop. “I think I am starting to understand it all now. You and Dekker have been scheming. You’ve decided that the two of you getting married is somehow going to help you keep the Atwoods from stealin’ our Sam.”

Joleen gulped. “No, Mama. Of course not. You asked me what happened with them, and I told you. It’s got nothin’ to do with Dekker and me.”

“Oh, sweetheart. You are such a bad liar. You shouldn’t even try it.”

Joleen only wanted to get out of there. “I am marrying Dekker, Mama. That is all there is to it.”

“But you don’t love him—not the way you need to love the man you bind your life with.”

Joleen stood. “I am saying this once more. I want you to listen. I do love Dekker. And Dekker loves me. We are getting married as soon as possible, and we are going to be happy. You just wait and see.”

“But you don’t—”

“Mama. Enough. You have said your piece, and I have heard it. This decision, though, is mine to make.”

Camilla was shaking her head, her mouth all pursed up, brow furrowed. At that moment she looked her age—and more. She said, very softly and with heavy regret, “I know I was never the mother I should have been.”

Joleen glared down at her. “You are my mother. If I was startin’ all over, and God gave me a chance to choose, you are the one I would pick in an instant.”

“Oh, baby…”

“Do not start in cryin’ on me, Mama. I just don’t have the time or the patience for that right now.”

“I only…I wanted so much more for you.”

“Well, this is about what I want. And I want to marry Dekker. I want to make a life with him.” It surprised her, how firm she sounded. How secure in her choice.

On the counter, the coffeemaker made a gurgling sound, and somewhere outside, a leaf blower started up.

Camilla’s tears spilled over, they trailed down her soft cheeks. “Well, I have told you my feelings on this.”

Joleen held her ground. “And I have said what I will do.”

There was a box of tissues, ready and waiting, in the center of the table. Her mother yanked one out. “I love you, baby.”

“And I love you, Mama.”

“And no mistake—” Camilla had to pause, to blow her nose. Then she started again. “No mistake is so big that love can’t find a way to make it right in the end.”