Baby, Don't Go Read Free Page A

splayed his hands. “The man is ambitious.”
    Marcus pinched the bridge of his nose. Now even he was being pulled into the soap opera the town had become. “Can we get back to the D.O.E. report? All our recycling initiatives passed on the last inspection except for the dining hall. But since then, we converted it into a bona fide restaurant, and we’re recycling ninety-five percent of the restaurant waste.”
    “But the food is still terrible,” Kendall said, “and the service is lousy. They can’t handle a big crowd. Colonel Molly is impossible to work with—the waitresses don’t last long.”
    Marcus frowned. “I’ll talk to her.”
    “The diner stands to make or lose a lot of money as the town grows,” Porter pressed. “It needs your business know-how behind it.”
    Marcus bit down on his cheek. “Let’s keep our eye on the goals for the federal deadline. In addition to a Justice of the Peace, we need to show we have adequate emergency response systems in place—fire and rescue. We have to break ground on a housing development, a jail, a library and city hall before cold weather sets in. Then we have to prepare for elections and buy polling machines.”
    “We’re on track for all of those things to happen,” Kendall said calmly, making a steeple of his hands.
    “But we can’t afford for anything to go wrong at this point,” Marcus said. “An explosion at the laboratory, or the discovery of something toxic where we want to put the housing development, would sink us.”
    “We know, Marcus,” Kendall said. “But our first priority is still the diner. It’s the key to making everything else we have planned go smoothly.”
    “So I hope you’re ready to do battle with Molly,” Porter said.
    Marcus frowned. “I can handle her.” But he’d have to tread carefully—they were indebted to the retired U.S. Army colonel. She’d fed their original crew of two hundred and fifty men three meals a day for the first several months single-handedly.
    Those were the days, Marcus thought. Before the women from Broadway, Michigan, had arrived, bringing with them their Northern attitudes and their endless high-maintenance demands—not the least of which was insisting the town charter include provisions that key positions be held by females, including the manager of the diner. The next thing he knew, they’d be unionized.
    “Speaking of the diner,” Kendall said, “don’t forget we have a meeting this afternoon with Rachel for an update on plans for Homecoming weekend.” He arched an eyebrow at Marcus. “I understand she has lots of parties planned, so you’d better line up a date.”
    “I already have a date,” Marcus said.
    “Who?” they demanded.
    “Mother,” he said. “Remember, she’s moving back Homecoming weekend.”
    “How could we forget?” Porter asked. “She only reminds us every time she calls.”
    “Amy is taking Tony down to help Mom pack a few of the heavier things,” Kendall said.
    Marcus nodded. Kendall’s son was an Armstrong, through and through. Marcus loved the boy like he was his own. The thought of having a son sent a shot of longing through his loins…until he thought about having to deal with the child’s mother. Women were just too much trouble.
    To confirm his point, Porter’s and Kendall’s phones started singing with their telltale “baby” ringtones.
    “Are we finished?” Porter asked.
    “Oh, yeah, you’re both finished, all right,” Marcus muttered as he headed toward the door. He planned to spend the morning at the recycling plant, then fish over his lunch hour…and count his lucky stars he wasn’t tied to a pesky, demanding woman.

3
    “T hank you for the clothes, Mother,” Alicia said as she exited Candace’s house wearing and carrying a suitcase full of blue jeans, T-shirts and other clothes that were, in her opinion, too flashy for her mother to be wearing. Since leaving New York, her mother’s style had changed dramatically…presumably