“I made a few adjustments to my account.”
“Your account?” My father’s voice cracked on the word.
“That was our family vacation.
You gave us those tickets.”
“No, Chester,” I said, and I dropped, all at once, the soft and accommodating tone I had used with this man for thirty-three years.
“I paid for a family vacation.
And then my mother sent me a text.” I turned and looked her straight in the eye.
“Do you remember what it said, Mom? You’re not coming.
Dad wants only family.”
Chapter 11 — Not an ATM