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“A shock, right?” Robbie said in dry tones.

“No, I mean …”

“It’s okay.” His smile assured her that he wasn’t offended. “I’ve done some work for him.” Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out a business card and handed it to her.

“‘Broussard Landscaping and Ornamental Gardens,’” Livia read out loud, impressed by the intricate logo and gold trim on the card. “Very fancy.”

“Not really.” Robbie shrugged. “My dad was a gardener and barely made enough to provide for his family. I do basically the same thing, but I can charge an obscene fee because I call myself a landscaper.”

She waved her glass toward the nearby crowd. “It’s a rich person thing. They don’t care about value, they care about image. If you convince them you’re worth a fortune, that’s what they’ll pay.”

“Exactly,” he agreed.

A slow smile curved her lips. “Good for you, Robbie. It couldn’t happen to a better guy.”

He shrugged. “I’m not going to lie, there was a petty satisfaction in getting the invitation. Once upon a time, I would have been stuck using the back door to enter the Willows. Now I’m a guest. Go figure.”

Livia chuckled. “Same.”

They shared a rueful glance as Robbie leaned against one of the fluted marble columns that ran the length of the room.

“I heard you opened your own business, is that right?”

“I did.” It was Livia’s turn to pull a business card out of the red satin clutch that matched her halter-style gown. She handed it to Robbie.

“‘Benoit Real Estate Agency. New Orleans.’” He sent her a smile. “Congrats.”

Livia lifted her glass in a toast. “Here’s to walking through the front door.”

“Cheers.” He tapped the edge with his own glass. “Since you’re still using the Benoit name I assume you’re not married?”

“Nope. You?”

“Yeah, I married Kim Walden. We went to school together.”

Livia glanced toward the crowd. She didn’t remember anyone named Kim, but she assumed that his wife would be nearby.

“Is she here?”

“She’s home with our son, Caleb.” Robbie lifted a defensive hand as she instinctively turned back to stab him with a glare. “Hey, it’s her choice. I begged her to come, but she hates these events. Staying with Caleb is just an excuse to avoid them.”

Livia relaxed. She should have known Robbie wouldn’t be the kind of guy to be out partying while his wife was home with a baby.

“I don’t blame her.”

“Me either. If I didn’t need references from these people to expand my business I would be home with the family.” He stiffened, abruptly recalling who he was talking to. “Sorry, I probably shouldn’t admit that to a member of the Benoit clan.”

Livia clicked her tongue. “We both know I’ve never been a part of the clan.”

He slowly nodded. “Does it bother you?”

“It used to, but over the years I decided I would never have fit in with the Benoits, even if hell had frozen over and they decided to welcome me with open arms.” She nodded toward the tall, handsome man who was standing in a corner with Adrian. They had their heads close together as if they were discussing something they didn’t want overheard. It was an increasingly common sight. As if the two men had something that was demanding their mutual attention. “Winston is more comfortable at the Willows than I’ll ever be.”

Robbie made a sound of uncertainty. “Do you think he’s comfortable?”

“You don’t?”

“I’m not sure.” He shrugged, his gaze locked on Winston, who continued his intense conversation with Adrian. “I suppose he seems happy enough.”