Page 269 of Wild Card 13

“I fear lawsuits.”

Oliver’s twins were thrilled by the stroller. Reed’s middle child tried to climb into it and had to be gently extracted. Bobby crouched beside one of the wheels, examining the setup.

“That turn is too tight,” he told Alois.

Alois looked at the course. “Yes.”

“Are you going to fix it?”

“No.”

“Why?”

“Because De Luca will hit the flowers.”

Bobby considered this. “Fair.”

The cat remained attached to Alois like a judgmental accessory, draped now over one forearm because Alois had given up removing him. Bento’s tail twitched every time Dottie looked in his direction.

Lucy murmured something to her pup and shortened the leash. Dottie wagged, which was her way of announcing she had heard the instruction and was considering a different interpretation.

I ended up beside Lucy because Lo handed me a stack of napkins and pointed toward the drinks table, and Lucy was already there refilling a pitcher of lemonade she was absolutely not supposed to be handling if Lo had any say in it.

“She told Bea not to lift a finger,” Lucy said before I could speak. “She did not specify the rest of us.”

I set the napkins down. “That sounds like a loophole.”

“It is.”

“Dangerous thing to admit in a lawyer-adjacent household.”

Her mouth moved. “My father is not a lawyer.”

“No, but he owns enough of them to make the air nervous.”

She looked at me then, and the smile almost happened. I lived on almost lately.

Bobby appeared at my elbow with a cookie shaped like a tiny hockey skate. “Are you doing the stroller thing?”

“Probably.”

“You good with strollers?”

“I have pushed many things with wheels.”

“That is not the same.”

“No, but confidence is important.”

“Not if it’s misplaced.”

Lucy made a small sound and looked down at the lemonade.

I stared at Bobby. “You’re tough.”

“I’m honest.”

“Terrible habit.”