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“What was that?”
“Sounded like my body wash fell in the shower or something, but I’m glad you stopped by,” she quickly added. “I need to talk to you about something, and feel free to tell me that I need to go through the proper channels—”
“How much?”
She paused. “How’d you know?”
“You never ask me for money, Rai-Rai. Not since high school, and that was for yearbooks and class rings and prom dresses. This house,” he motioned around, “was all you. Since you turned eighteen, except for the car O.B. bought you, as a gift, mind you, you’ve managed on your own. You’ve always done well taking care of yourself, but you’re my daughter. You’re allowed to benefit from my success.”
“It’s not for me, per se,” she said. “I want to apply for a grant for our institute.”
Something else fell.
A hushed curse followed, and a half-smile appeared on her father’s face.
“Why a grant? Our foundation could fund your research. My connections could also get you additional contributions. Buffett’s donated billions to the Bill and Melinda Gates Foundation, and that’s Warren Buffett. You’re my flesh and blood.”
“But what if we’re not solely tech-based? We could still qualify?”
“The goal of our foundation is the intersection of science, medicine, technology, and evidence-based practices to foster initiatives that improve individual and population health. Can you tell me that your workdoesn’tencompass that? I’ve read your papers.”
She gasped. “You have?”
“Raina, I follow everything you kids do, including my two unofficially adopted boys,” he said. “I go to all of O.B. and Miguel’s games. I sit on the board of a couple of their foundations, and I’ve volunteered with them overseas. I’ve read all of Carson’s books, and Delilah and I discuss technology and immunology. I love you. All of you. Why wouldn’t I be supportive?”
He’d been supportive their entire lives. Her mother, the nurturer, often got more credit, but her father was always there. If he wasn’t in step with them, he was never too far ahead or behind.
“Give me one second. I’ll be right back.”
She went to the bedroom, took Lucas by the hand, and dragged him to the front room.
“Daddy, this is Lucas. Lucas, this is my father, Orylin B. Daniels Sr., the president and co-founder of The O.B. Sinclair Corporation.”
Lucas remained frozen in place.
She nudged his side.
“Uh,” he extended a hand, “it’s nice to meet you, sir. I’m Lucas.”
They shook.
“Lucas Saraci, right?” The smile on her father’s face slowly grew. “You’re the doctor. The one who Delilah works with. We met earlier this year.”
“Yes, sir. At the football game. The Major Bowl.” Lucas frowned. “That’s not right. No, I mean the…Colossal Bowl?”
“It’s okay, son. I know what you mean.” Her father’s gaze shifted to her. “So, is he why my phone keeps asking me to change your name to Raina E. Saraci?”
Shit.
She forgot to fix that.
“So,” her father pointed to them, “are you two—”
“Dating?” Lucas asked. “Um…yes, sir. We’re dating.”
She shook her head. “Lucas, we might as well be totally honest. My dear father, Lucas and I are—”
“Living together,” Lucas cut in again. “In Baltimore.”
