She swiped that cute brown curl off her forehead again. “Oh, why didn’t I listen to you? I never should have called him. I never should have—”
“But you did. And even though I thought it was a bad idea, I do know that you did it for the right reasons. For Sam’s sake. And to give the Atwoods a chance to know their grandson.”
“It was also pride, Dekker,” she said in a small voice. “I’ve got…a problem with pride. I want to do right. I want to do right so bad, I get pigheaded about it. And I, well, it’s exactly what you said earlier. I’m ashamed. I was supposed to be the one with both of my feet on the ground in this family. But look at me…”
He couldn’t help reaching out and running a finger along her soft cheek. “You look just fine.”
She caught his hand, squeezed it, let it go. “You know what I mean. I ended up with a baby and no husband, got myself ‘in trouble,’ made the oldest mistake in the book. So when I called Robert Atwood, I was hopin’…to make up for that, somehow. To be bigger than the mess I got myself into. To get past my own bad judgment in falling for Bobby by reachin’ out to his folks in their hour of need. It was pride, Dekker. You were right. Just plain old pigheaded pride.”
“And now it’s over and done with. You need to let it go and move on.”
“How can I let it go when I am so furious at myself?”
“Look at it this way. It’s very likely, even if you hadn’t told them they had a grandson, that the Atwoods would have found out about Sam eventually. We may not travel in their circles. But word does get around.”
“You really think so?”
“Yeah.” He rose to stand above her. “Now. Are you finished giving yourself hell?”
She blew out a long breath. “Oh, I guess.”
“Then we can start thinking about what to do, about how to fight what they’re going to be throwing at you. The main attack is going to be on the fitness of your child care, the way it looks now.”
She stared up at him. “What are you telling me?”
“I think you know.”
For an endless few moments, neither of them spoke. Noises from outside the study rose up to fill the quiet—a woman’s laughter beyond the high leaded-glass window that looked out on the side of the house, the music on Camilla’s stereo, something slow and bluesy and sweet.
“All right,” Joleen said at last. “I’ll find someone else to watch Sam when I’m working. It will be tight, but I’ll manage it.”
“Good.”
“And then somehow I will have to tell my mama and my sisters why they are suddenly not to be trusted with the little boy they all adore.”
“You don’t have to tell them anything tonight. You’ve got a little time to think it over. You’ll come up with a good approach.”
“It doesn’t matter what approach I take, there will be hurt feelings. There will be cryin’ and carryin’ on—and then I’ve got to get a good lawyer, right?”
“Yes. But don’t worry there. I’ll find you the right man.”
“And then I have to pay the lawyer. Oh, what a mess. There is no way around it. This is going to cost a bundle.”
Dekker knew that Joleen made an okay living, working with her mother. She supported herself and Sam and she did a decent job of it. He also knew that there wasn’t much left over once all the bills were paid. Quality child care and a good lawyer would stretch her budget way past the breaking point.
But it was okay. Money, after what had happened in Los Angeles, would be the least of their problems. Dekker wanted to tell her as much. However, that would only get her started asking questions about L.A.
Right now, they had a limited amount of time before someone would be knocking on the study door, demanding that Joleen get out there and deal with some other minor crisis. When he told her about L.A., he didn’t want to be interrupted.
“Don’t look so miserable,” he said. “We’re just getting it all out there, so we can see what we have to deal with.”
“I know.” But she didn’t know. He could see by her worried frown that the money problem was really bothering her.
He strove to ease her fears without saying too much. “The money issue can be handled.”
“I don’t see how.” She looked down at her lap and shook her head.
“Jo, I’ll help out. The bills will get paid.”
“Oh, no.” She glanced up then, her frown deeper than before. “You work hard for your money. And we both know you don’t have much more of it than I do.”
Joleen was right—or she would have been right, as of a few days ago. Before the trip to Southern California, Dekker would have had to rob a bank to be of much use to her financially. He’d gone into something of a downward spiral, right after his wife, Stacey, died. He’d quit his job and sold his house. He had not worked for several months while grief and guilt did their best to eat him alive. With Joleen’s help, he’d pulled himself out of it. But by that time he didn’t have a whole hell of a lot left.
For almost two years now he had operated a one-man detective agency in a one-room office over a coin laundry downtown. It paid the rent and put food on the table, but that was about it.
Or it had been. Until he’d flown to L.A. and learned that he had money to burn. He was a rich man now, and he had every intention of spending whatever it took to help Joleen fight the SOB who thought he could take her child away.
“I have a few extra resources,” he said. “I mean it. Don’t worry about money.”
“Dekker. You are not listening.”
“No. You’re the one who’s not listening.”
“I couldn’t take money from you.”
“Sure you could—for Sam’s sake.”
“No. It wouldn’t be right. I couldn’t live with myself if I—”
Someone knocked on the door. “Joly?” It was DeDe’s voice. “Joly, are you in there?”
Joleen glanced toward the sound and sighed.
Dekker said softly, “It’s all right. We’ll talk more. Later. After the party’s over and everyone’s gone home.”
“You know that’s going to be good and late.”
“It’s okay. I’ll be available.”
“Thank you,” she said. Even if he hadn’t been a brand-new multimillionaire, the look she gave him then would have made him feel like one.
“Joly?” DeDe knocked again.
Joleen pushed herself from the chair and smoothed out her skirt. “Come on in.”
The door swung inward and DeDe demanded, “What are you doing in here? I have been looking all over for you.”
“Well, you have found me.”
DeDe glanced from her sister to Dekker, then back to Joleen again. “What’s going on?”
Dekker laughed. “None of your business. What do you need?”
DeDe wrinkled her nose. “Oh, it’s Uncle Stan. He wants some special coffee.” In the Tilly and DuFrayne families, special coffee was coffee dosed with Irish Cream and Grand Marnier.
“And?” Joleen prompted.
“I