Every January I Sent My Son-in-Law $40,000 for My Granddaughter. Then She Whispered, ‘Grandpa, Follow Dad.’

Listen, I’ll send you the information for her winter tutoring soon.

Prices have gotten ridiculous.”

I had heard some version of that sentence for seven years.

A fee was due, or a school program had become expensive, or a surprise household repair had swallowed the savings.

I had responded by transferring money because I believed the alternative was letting Laura’s daughter go without.

Now I noticed the polished SUV in his driveway and the pale, worn cuffs on Emma’s coat.

“Send the details,” I said.