“You have to cancel that boat, Sandra,” she said, her voice dropping to a whisper as if the walls themselves were listening.
I sat at the table with my phone in my hand, staring at the digital itinerary for the Majesty of the Seas. The blue ocean on the screen looked too bright, almost offensive in the gray light of our kitchen.
“The deposit was forty-two hundred dollars, Mother,” I said, clearing my throat before speaking softly. “We cannot just throw forty-two hundred dollars into the wind.”
Peggy set the kettle down on the cold burner with a sharp clatter. She reached across the table and picked up our yellow joint savings bank book, flipping it open to the page where the bank teller had stamped our daily withdrawal limit.
“A fool and his money are soon parted, Sandra, but some losses you just have to carry,” she said, tapping the paper with her fingernail.
