Phoebe's POV
I watched Mitchell eye Harold suspiciously. "Harold, level with me. Is someone from the Bailey family mixed up in this?"
Despite his failing vision, Mitchell's mind stayed razor-sharp. Just from watching Harold's behavior, he'd already pieced together that a Bailey family member might be pulling strings.
Harold dodged the question with that infuriating smile of his, shaking his head. "Grandpa, you're getting too old to worry about this stuff. Stay home, relax, and focus on your health."
When Mitchell started to push harder, Harold smoothly changed topics. "Didn't you want to ask about the wedding reception? Phoebe's sitting right here. Why don't you ask her how she wants to handle it and where she'd prefer to have it?"
Mitchell smacked his thigh. "Damn right! I would've totally spaced on that if you hadn't brought it up. Phoebe, this sneaky little bastard tricked you into getting that marriage license without telling me. I never got to give you the gift I prepared."
