Don turned toward Winter, one brow arching slightly. "Who?"
"It is Miss Claire and her daughter, Sylvia," Winter replied, her voice steady as she adjusted the cuff of her maid's sleeve with quick movements.
Samantha's expression lifted instantly. She turned toward Don, eyes brighter than before. "That's great. Now would be a good time to ask her."
Don's gaze lingered on her for a second before he looked back at Winter. 'I'm sure she really means well… but that many personalities in one room? That's asking just asking for trouble. Not until I know them better. Especially Miss Claire.'
He leaned a hand on the back of Samantha's chair. "Hold on, Mom. Maybe we should wait on hosting something big until we've known them long enough. Could do it on a holiday or some event—so it doesn't come off like we're… overly lively."
He didn't believe a word of it, but he didn't have to sell it hard. Samantha already had a habit of deferring to him, even when she wasn't convinced.
