shook his head. Hanging out with his brother was a lot like summer camp where burps, farts, and other bodily functions were celebrated with alarming frequency.
Case in point, Stan’s earlier long-winded monologue about morning wood intersecting with shower gel. They hadn’t even left the hotel parking lot before he went off on a detailed description of getting off.
“When we get to the house, I’ll Postmates a couple of dozen donuts and the gallon box of Joe from Dunkin’. The workers will appreciate it.”
Grunting to indicate he was paying attention, Arnie concentrated on the phone in his hands and opened his NIGHTWIND daily message thread. Dottie’s morning update was cc’d to all eyes. When it came to having each other’s backs, there were no secrets.
The news started with something important. His father was in the air and on his way. He copied the flight information into his calendar and continued.
Overnight, the local police patrolled Wishing Star Lane on an hourly basis. Nothing suspicious happened, and there were no reports of unusual activity.
Breathing a sigh of relief, he went to the final entry. This one was an update from Milo—an update everyone could see.
Speaking in barely understandable tech talk, Milo reported an easy win on Arnie’s request for isolating cell numbers. The smarter than smart guy used his geo-mapping ability to pinpoint each phone at the specific address and state with real certitude which number of the three was Summer’s.
In other words, thanks to Milo, at the very least they had something to track. If she left the house and went anywhere, he’d know where she was.
This new wrinkle also meant he had Summer’s phone number. Day late and a dollar short, his conscience grumbled.
“I like early mornings. How about you?” Stan asked.
He lifted a shoulder and was about to offer a reply when he just gave up. The tension tightening every muscle short-circuited his mind.
Summer liked mornings. And afternoons. And evenings. She liked everything and looked for the good in everybody and every situation. He needed those things in his life. Considering all the stuff he’d seen and what he knew about the way the world worked, it was a fucking miracle he wasn’t jaded and pessimistic. All the bad stuff fell away, though, when his sunshine girl turned her pretty smile his way.
Stan was babbling. It was how he filled the gaping holes in conversation caused by Arnie’s growing melancholy. Being a dick wasn’t the answer, so he sighed and reset his mood.
“Dad’ll be here in a couple of hours.” He side-eyed his brother and offered a grin. “I’m not sure LA is ready for the three of us together.”
“And I’m not sure I’m ready for him to be flaunting a girlfriend. Jesus, Arnie! She’s a real adult.”
He chuckled. “Hey, now. Come on. I have factory-certified adult mileage, and so do you.”
“True, but the Wanamakers aren’t known for amassing advanced degrees. Most of our clan barely went to college. A PhD is pretty impressive. Good for Dad.”
“I think this needs to be said.” Arnie sniggered. “The lady might be a doctor and have a real job, but what does it say that she’s in a relationship with Dad? The man has two sections in his closet. One for casual Hawaiian shirts and the other for dress-up Hawaiian shirts.”
Stan pounded the steering wheel and laughed. “What if she’s an island hippie or one of those tree huggers? Oh, my god. How perfect, huh?”
“Granddad would love it. And as a botanist, I’m sure she’d find his growing operation and research facility damn impressive.”
“I’m feeling a visit to the Big Island in the future. Check this lady out.”
Winter sunrise gave the sky a soft glow. They pulled into the driveway on Wishing Star Lane. At seven in the morning, the neighborhood was just waking up. A sleepy-eyed man wearing dad pajamas stood in his front yard with a small dog on the end of a tether. Two women power walked along the sidewalk, and near the end of the street, a gaggle of backpack-wearing older kids huddled together, waiting for a school bus.
Within five minutes, the work crews started showing up. Before long, the house was hopping, and a workday was in session.
“We’ll only be gone overnight. Bud has an appointment late afternoon tomorrow, so we’ll likely be home around lunchtime.”
Summer nodded and gave Lynda a reassuring smile. “Don’t worry. Mariah and I understand each other. She’s the feline diva, and I’m merely the visiting waitress whose only function is to open cans