Page 81 of Too Far To Sea
Sheila dropped her purse on the counter and opened her phone. “You have that money app, don’t you? The one I can send you money from my bank account?”
“Yes.”
“Good.”
Her mom tapped the phone. Dana’s phone pinged. A $2,000 deposit.
“I think I owe you much more than that for the cruise and things. But that is the sending limit.”
“Thanks, Mom.”
“And don’t worry about me. I’ll be alright. I’m going to text your sister, and maybe I’ll go visit my sister. Sisters are such a wonderful thing.”
Dana left her mother’s house somewhat perplexed yet lightened.
She arrived at Brit and Simone’s later than planned, and they were both waiting up for her with their new favorite chocolate ice cream.”
“How did things go with your mom?” asked Brit.
“Shocking.” Dana glossed over most of the details as she told them about the tentative reconciliation she had with her mother.
“I can’t believe she took responsibility,” said Simone.
“Me either.” Dana finished the last of her dessert.
“Maybe now you should take some responsibility,” said Brit.
Simone tried to hush her roommate.
“What do you mean?”
“You told us you had his email. You haven’t contacted him yet. Don’t you think you owe him an apology?”
“But he owes me one.”
Brit held up her hand. “No, you owe him one for not giving him a chance to explain.”
Dana retired to the spare room and pulled out her phone.
Brit was right.
It was a day for reconciliation.
23
Over the years,McKay had visited amusement parks all over the world. He’d worried Robyn’s Place couldn’t compete. He’d been wrong.
For one, it wasn’t crowded—no more than ten people in any line. His security training automatically kicked in as he counted: roughly a hundred visitors, not including staff. Everyone stayed in family groupings, creating an intimate atmosphere unlike any park he’d experienced. The space rivaled the Astrodome in size, with retractable roof panels currently pulled back to allow in streams of summer sunlight.
Their check-in at the private hotel last night had been thorough but efficient. The wristbands they wore were coded to match Gracie’s, making family units easily identifiable—a security measure disguised as convenience. Each guest underwent a quick fever scan, reminding him that this wasn’t just any theme park. This was a haven for children like Gracie.
A man in an elaborate pirate costume intercepted them, his theatrical voice booming. “Ahoy there, Gracie!”
Gracie’s eyes lit up at hearing her name—another bit of carefully programmed magic that made the place special.
“Have you been to my pirate ship today? We’re going to sail the seven seas!”
“My Uncle Mac used to really sail the seven seas, but I’m coming to your pirate ship too!”
