Page 122
Mikayla moved closer to Leslie, making it clear that it was a private conversation. "Julissa wants to make sure our Grandma Ruth has someone sitting close enough to help her during dinner. I know you do a lot of volunteer work at senior homes, would you mind switching to table four?"
Leslie's entire posture changed. "Well, of course. Your grandmother shouldn't have to sit alone."
"Thank you so much, you’re a lifesaver.” Mikayla then turned to Aunt Patricia, keeping her voice low, she leaned in. “And would you be willing to sit at table seven with Uncle Bruno? He's been asking about your famous peach cobbler."
Patricia straightened. "Has he?"
"Repeatedly."
I'd been standing beside Uncle Bruno five minutes earlier. He'd been talking about tractor tires. Not peach cobbler. But Patricia practically glowed.
"Well, I suppose I could."
"Perfect." Mikayla tapped something into her phone, then turned to Leslie. "Thank you both. I knew I could count on you."
The two women walked away in opposite directions. Crisis averted.
I leaned toward her. "Did Uncle Bruno really ask about the cobbler?"
"No."
"You're a very convincing liar."
She didn't look up from her phone. "I'm a CEO, Damon. We call it stakeholder management."
Damn, I liked her. I liked her a lot.
The circus’s ring number two involved the ring bearer.
A five-year-old named Oliver who'd apparently decided that walking down an aisle was beneath his dignity.
"I don’t want to do it!" he shouted, folding his arms across his chest.
His mother crouched beside him. "But honey, you practiced at home."
"I changed my mind."
"Oliver—"
"I want to be a cowboy."
I had to respect the kid's priorities.
Mikayla crouched in front of him, completely unconcerned about the grass staining her expensive dress.
"Oliver, I have a question."
He eyed her suspiciously. "What?"
"Do you know what a cowboy's most important job is?"
He nodded solemnly. "Riding horses."
"Very important. What else?"
"Chasing bad guys."
"Yes,” Mikayla agreed. “And protecting important things."
