The Marriage Agenda: The Marriage Conspiracy / The Billionaire's Baby Plan

Wayne’s new peacock-green SUV had been properly adorned for the occasion, with Just Married scrawled in shaving cream across the rear window, Here Comes the Bride on the windshield and tin cans hooked to the rear bumper by lengths of thick string.

Joleen had the bird seed ready, wrapped in little rose-colored satin squares and tied with white bows. She passed it around and DeDe and Wayne ducked through a rain of it as they raced for the car. Then everyone stood on the sidewalk beneath the Victorian-style lamps that lined all the streets of Mesta Park, waving and calling out last-minute advice.

“Good luck!”

“Don’t do anything we wouldn’t do!”

“But if you do, take pictures!”

Wayne revved the engine and pulled away from the curb. The handsome SUV rolled off into the night, tin cans rattling behind.

Most of the guests took their leave then, turning for their own cars, waving goodbye and making happy noises about what a great time they’d had. A few stayed on—Callie and her cowboy, one of Camilla’s admirers, Aunt LeeAnne and Uncle Foley—to enjoy another dance or two out in the lantern-lit backyard. It was after one when Camilla, Joleen and Dekker showed the last of them to the door.

“’Bye, now. Drive with care.…” Camilla shut the door, turned off the porch light and then stretched like a sleek and very contented cat. “Oh, it has been a long and lovely day.” Her smooth brows drew together. “Now, where did Niki get off to?”

Joleen said, “She went up to bed about half an hour ago.”

“Our little Sammy all snuggled in?”

“I put him down in my room.”

“Well.” Camilla gave her oldest daughter a lazy smile. “I believe I am ready for bed myself. You and Sammy stayin’?”

“I think so. I’d just as soon not wake him. And tomorrow I’d only be headin’ back over here to start cleaning up.”

“Good. You’ll lock the doors when you’re through down here, then?”

“I will. Right now, though, Dekker and I are goin’ out in back for a while, to enjoy the peace and quiet.”

“Don’t you start in cleaning up tonight,” Camilla warned. “I mean it. It’s late. You’ve worked hard enough. We’ll take care of everything tomorrow.”

“I won’t lift a finger, I promise.”

Camilla was not convinced. She shook her head and clucked her tongue. “I know how you are. The only child of mine who will work instead of playin’ if given the choice. You have to learn to slow down a little, baby. Smell the flowers now and then.”

“Mama, I’m not cleaning up a thing tonight. We’re just going to sit outside and talk some, that’s all.”

“What do you two talk about? Always with your heads together. Thick as thieves, I swear.”

“Nothing important, Mama.” Well, all right. That was a flat-out lie. But the truth, right then, would not have served. When the time came, Joleen would tell her mother whatever she thought her mother had to know.

Camilla was already on her way up the stairs. She paused on the third step and cast a glance toward the door to the living room. Uncle Hubert was still in there, snoring away. They could hear the low rumblings even through the closed door. “Put a blanket over Hubert?”

“I will. Right away. ’Night, Mama.”

“’Night…” Camilla went on up.

Joleen got a chenille throw from the closet under the stairs. She and Dekker spread it over Uncle Hubert, who just went on snoring, gone to the world.

“You want a beer or something?” she asked Dekker before they went outside.

“I wouldn’t mind some ice water.”

That sounded good to her, too, so she fixed them two tall glasses and led him out into the night.

Camilla had a matching pair of chaise lounges with nice, thick, floral-patterned cushions. For the wedding party, Joleen had put them near the fence, under the sweet gum in the corner of the yard. A low patio table sat between the lounges, just perfect for setting their glasses on.

“You think it’s too dark out here?” Joleen asked. They’d unplugged the lanterns a little while before.

“I like the dark.”

So they went over and stretched out on the lounges and stared up through the leaves of the sweet gum at the stars. They hadn’t had a single frost yet, so cicadas serenaded them from the trees, making it seem as though it was still summer. Now and then, from the wires overhead, night birds trilled out their high, lonesome songs. The moon had gone down some time before, but as her eyes adjusted, Joleen found she could see well enough, after all. There were no clouds, and the stars were like diamonds sewn into the midnight fabric of the sky.

Joleen set her glass down and leaned back, aware of a jittery feeling in her stomach. Anticipation. She just knew that her friend had come up with a way out of this tight spot she had got herself into.

He had said as much, hadn’t he?

Everything will be all right, Jo. Dekker was not the kind to give her empty words. If he said things would be all right, it was because he honestly thought they would be.

She waited, her jitters increasing, wishing she could see inside his mind, that she could know what he was thinking, what kind of plan he had thought up—and at the same time reticent, not wanting to push him, feeling it was only right he should say what he had to say in his own time. And in his own way.

He sipped his ice water, set it down next to hers. And then, finally, he spoke. “I want to tell you about Los Angeles first.”

Oh, not now, she thought. She did want to hear about whatever had gone on out there, but right now, as far as she was concerned, everything took a backseat to the problem of Robert Atwood and the threat he posed to Sam.

Be patient, she silently reminded herself as she sucked in a slow breath and let it out with care. “All right. Tell me about Los Angeles.”

It was a moment before he said anything. Cicada songs swelled, then faded off when he spoke.

“Do you remember, about a week and a half ago, that couple who showed up at your mama’s front door—Jonas Bravo and his wife, Emma?”

Joleen remembered. Jonas Bravo and his wife had told a strange story about a baby, a baby that had been Jonas Bravo’s younger brother. They’d claimed that the baby had been kidnapped thirty years ago. And that they were looking for a Lorraine Smith, who was supposed to know something about the kidnapping. Joleen had told them that the Lorraine Smith who used to live next door wasn’t going to be able to help them, since she was no longer alive. Then Camilla had mentioned that Lorraine had a son. As soon as they heard that, they’d asked to speak with Dekker. Camilla had suggested they try him at work.

Joleen sought her friend’s eyes through the darkness. “I thought you said it was nothing. That they were mistaken—that it must have been some other Lorraine Smith they were looking for.”

“I lied.”

She considered that admission for a moment, then asked, “Well, and why did you go and do that?”

“Because I didn’t want to deal with what they’d told me. I didn’t want to think about it and I didn’t want to talk about it, either.”

“You mean you were lyin’ to yourself?”

“That’s right.”

The little hairs on the back of Joleen’s neck were standing at attention. “You’re saying that your mama did know something about a kidnapped baby?”

He made a low noise, a noise that meant yes.