“The second card is my infant and child certification. Took it three years ago before Harper was born. He’s the oldest. Then I did a recert right before Harry arrived. Maybe eight months ago, give or take.”
Arnie chimed in somewhat snarkily. “Let me see those cards. Is this some bullshit Milo designed?”
Dottie laughed and blew him off. “If I wanted to involve Milo, I’d be standing here with a perfectly believable medical degree, and you know it.”
The comment was outrageous, yet Summer knew it came from truth. “I can’t wait to meet this person. Half the time I hear his name, it’s whispered with reverence, and the other half, he comes off like the annoying nerd in charge of the pocket protector after-school club.”
“He’s Mr. Data, Sheldon Cooper, Austin Powers, and Bill Nye run through a blender and then spread on toast. White toast.”
Looking at them with a mischievous expression, Dottie asked, “Either of you see the movie Ocean’s 8? The all-female cast?”
“I have,” she replied while Arnie shook his head.
Dottie waved at Arnie dismissively. “There’s a character named Nine Ball. Played to perfection by Rhianna. She’s a street-savvy hacker. What makes Arnie’s depiction of Milo so funny is his tongue on the floor response to NIGHTWIND’s newest tech hire. Jade and Nine Ball have similar backgrounds. Watching white toast lose his shit over a wickedly talented, gorgeous lady of color is worth the daily work disruptions.”
Summer smirked. “Single mom, right? Maybe she and I can exchange notes.” She gave Arnie a dry look and enjoyed watching him grit his teeth.
He touched her back gently. “I’ll leave you ladies to it.” He kissed her cheek and melted into the woodwork.
When it was time to introduce Dottie to Arianne, Summer made a point to acknowledge her importance.
“Sweetie, say hello to Nana Dottie.” She smiled, and murmured, “I hope that’s okay.”
It was all kinds of touching when Dottie gasped slightly and touched the spot over her heart. Summer understood and nodded.
Ari stared. Nobody spoke while she decided whether to accept Nana Dottie. A froth of baby bubbles and a soft, “Coo,” settled the matter.
She gently transferred the baby from her arms to Dottie’s and took a step back.
“Aren’t you a sweetie?” Dottie exclaimed to Ari’s grinning delight.
Tilting her head, Dottie motioned to her Michael Kors bag. “There’s a gift for her in there. Why don’t you unwrap it?”
Excited when she spied a Tiffany jewelry box, Summer was stunned when she cracked the lid and found a stunning rose gold necklace.
“It’s pink opal,” Dottie told her. “A rare stone. I knew this was for Arianne. Opal is her birthstone.”
Emotion clogged her throat, making it hard for her to swallow. The circlet of diamonds was a dead giveaway it wasn’t cheap, and she wished Arnie was with her. He’d know how to handle the expensive gesture.
She choked up. Dottie touched her arm. “Your first Tiffany?”
Summer nodded.
“There’s a lot more where that came from.”
“What do you mean?” She bit her lip anxiously.
“Summer, has anyone explained Arnie’s background?”
She shrugged. “You mean the Wanamaker thing? Yeah.”
“Oh, honey. It’s so much more than that.”
“What? How?”
Dottie smiled at Ari, and said, “Okay, girls. Listen up. Here’s the four-one-one. Yes, the Wanamaker family is up to their nose hairs in money, but Summer, didn’t you know Lianne had her own fortune?”
Summer turned a hard glare on the men yukking it up outside on the terrace. She smacked her head, and muttered, “Are you serious?”
“Yep. I’ll spell it out as much as I can. By all accounts, Lianne Donaldson led a normal life and grew up in suburbia. But appearances are deceiving. Though she thought of Paul Donaldson as her father, she was actually the lovechild of Brooklyn Patterson, Texas oil tycoon. When he died unexpectedly in a plane crash and his will was read, Lianne’s existence was revealed. At the end of the day, she inherited a third of his oil empire. All of it passed to Arnie, and I’m told there’s a considerable jewelry collection.”
“I’m going to kill that man,” she snarled. Throwing her hands up to register her annoyed displeasure, she barked, “What else don’t I know?”
“He’s afraid of squirrels.”
She blinked. “What?”
“Yeah. The big lug is terrified of the bushy-tailed rodents. He thinks they hate him and throw acorn shells whenever he’s around.”
“Get outta here,” she hooted.
Arnie heard Summer’s merry laughter and turned to see what she and Dottie were up to. They were standing right inside the French doors to the living room.