After greeting Sterling and the boys with hugs and kisses, Samara made her way over to the armchair where her mother sat holding Milan.
“Hello, darling,” Asha greeted her warmly.
“Hey, Mom.” Samara kissed Asha’s cheek and then squatted beside the chair to kiss her daughter’s forehead, smiling tenderly at her sweetly angelic face. “She’s out like a light.”
“Umm-hmm,” Asha murmured, gazing down at the sleeping toddler. “After lunch we all went outside and had a big leaf fight. Milan wore herself out.”
“I bet she did. She and the boys love playing in the leaves.” Samara smiled at her mother. “Thank you for keeping them overnight.”
Asha waved off her gratitude. “You know Sterling and I love keeping our grandbabies. We were both sad when Michael and Reese picked up Savannah and MJ last night after the party. We were hoping you and Marcus would let the kids stay another night. I’m taking the day off tomorrow, but my driver can drop the boys off at school in the morning.”
“Sounds like a plan to me,” Marcus drawled, joining them. He bent to kiss Asha’s cheek and then grinned at her. “They’re all yours, Mama.”
Asha and Samara laughed.
As Marcus gently rubbed Milan’s back, Malcolm called across the room, “Hey, Dad, do you wanna play Monopoly with us? We can start the game over.”
“No way!” Matthew protested. “I’m winning!”
“Only because Grandpa is letting you,” Malcolm shot back. “If Dad was playing—”
“Actually,” Marcus intervened, “I’d rather shoot some hoops. That is, if your grandpa’s up for it,” he added teasingly.
“Boy, please,” Sterling guffawed. “I’malwaysup for hoops.”
No one doubted the assertion. In his early seventies, Sterling Wolf was the picture of robust health and vigor. Tall, dark and ruggedly handsome, he had a head full of salt-and-pepper hair, broad shoulders and an imposing physique.
Samara often found herself marveling at how much Marcus and his brother resembled their father. It was uncanny. But then again, all of the Wolf males, from the oldest to the youngest, looked like clones of one another.
The fellas headed outside to the backyard, Shadow bounding after them.
Sighing, Samara made herself comfortable on the floor at her mother’s feet, leaning against the chair with her legs curled beneath her.
“How are you feeling?” Asha asked, gently stroking her hair.
Samara smiled. “I feel good. A little tired, but nothing to complain about.”
“No morning sickness?”
“Nope. None whatsoever.” Samara rested her head on her mother’s knee. “Remember how sick I was with the boys and Milan?”
“I remember, poor baby. Hopefully this pregnancy will be different.”
“So far so good.” Samara sighed contentedly, warmed by the sedate fire and her mother’s soothing touch.
Observing the mountain of gifts under the huge tree, she asked humorously, “Did the boys try to sweet-talk you and Sterling into letting them open one present?”
Asha laughed. “They didn’t, actually. Sterling and I were surprised. We figured you and Marcus must have said something to them.”
Samara smiled. “Marcus gave them a little talk yesterday.”
“About what?”
“Not taking their blessings for granted.”
“Ah, I see.” Asha sounded amused. “Believe me, darling, you needn’t worry about your children becoming spoiled and entitled monsters. Not with parents like you and Marcus. You two are the most grounded, conscientious people I know. Marcus has never forgotten where he came from. Why, he’s such a crusader for social justice that he insisted on naming one of his sons after Malcolm X, and he’s personally given the boys a thorough education in black history.”
“That’s true.” Samara grinned. “He enjoys randomly quizzing them. We can be having breakfast or just driving down the street, and Marcus will be like, ‘Which female African-American NASA data analyst invented the illusion transmitter?’” She chuckled. “He really keeps them on their toes. He’s even started quizzing Milan now.”
