Page 49 of Darla's Christmas Knight
Darla dutifully lifted her arm. “Hmm,” the woman said, turning Darla’s hand every which way, drawing amused scrutiny from nearby people.
“Momma,” Darla hissed, trying to pull her hand back.
Turning her attention to Bobby, her mother said, “You did good, Robert.”
“Thank you, ma’am,” he deadpanned.
“Two carats?”
Darla jerked her hand away. “Momma!”
“Two-and-a-half,” Bobby replied, amusement lacing his voice.
“Welcome to the family, son,” her father said, joining his wife.
Bobby grasped his outstretched hand. “Thank you, sir.”
Darla’s gaze shifted between her parents. “You knew?”
Her mother blinked. “Knew what, Darla?”
True to form, her daddy didn’t pretend innocence. “Like any well-brought-up man, Robert asked for your hand last night.”
Darla gave Bobby a hard look. “So that’s where you two disappeared to after dessert.” She narrowed her eyes. “Cognac, my foot. Should’ve known something was afoot. You don’t even like cognac.”
Placing his arm around her shoulder, he pulled her in and pressed a kiss to her forehead. “Cognac was involved. After I asked your dad.”
Humph! Scowling, she shot him a withering glance, stepping from his embrace.
“Now don’t you get upset with Robert. He did good. The question is — are you happy, baby girl?” her mother asked, drawing Darla’s attention.
Bobby’s furtiveness aside — Girl, are you really upset he asked your daddy like a well brought up man? — Darla couldn’t lie to her mother. “Yes, Momma, I am.”
And with those words, her pique with Bobby evaporated.
Her mother nodded. “That’s all a mother asks for.” She leaned in and kissed Darla’s cheek and gave her a quick hug. Straightening, she added in a louder tone, “And he’d better take good care of my baby girl. Else he’ll discover the wrath of Pastor Miller and her” — she lifted her eyes heavenward — “Boss.”
“I’ll treasure your daughter.”
“Now,” her mother said, grabbing Bobby’s arm. “Let’s talk grandbabies.”
Darla rolled her eyes, asking that same Boss for strength dealing with the woman. Bobby’s gaze met her over the top her mother’s coiffed hair, and she shook her head. They had agreed not to announce the pregnancy until she reached the twelve-week mark.
“Norma,” her father reprimanded. “Let’s get the couple hitched first. Look” — he grabbed her arm, tugging her — “I think the mayor is calling you.”
Her eyes darted to the direction her husband pointed, but before leaving, she added, “Don’t dally about fulfilling this grandmother’s desire, Robert.”
“Momma!”
“Yes, ma’am,” Bobby said, shaking with mirth. “It’ll be my pleasure to take care of that task. “
Her mother sniffed. “No need to be cheeky, Robert,” she muttered, striding off.
Darla huffed. Bobby grinned at her. “I think your mum’s warming up to me.”
Gah! “Warming up?” But before she could continue lamenting her mother, a gong sounded.
“Ho, ho, ho. Let’s eat and be merry!” Santa Claus called out, moving through the crowd, ringing his bell.
