“The life insurance for my husband and my daughter,” I replied.
The complete lack of emotion in my voice made my father shift uncomfortably.
“We understand that what happened was tragic,” my mother said dismissively. “But life continues for those who are still alive.”
She waved toward me.
“We raised you. We paid for college. We allowed you to use one of our cars. Now your brother is facing a real emergency, and you are holding onto money because we could not find an affordable flight home from St. Lucia.”
“You booked that trip four days after the accident.”
“The tickets were nonrefundable,” she snapped. “And frankly, the atmosphere here would have been unbearable. We chose to celebrate life instead of surrounding ourselves with misery.”
She pointed toward the study.
“Now get your checkbook.”
Instead of moving, I lifted the first documents from the folder and turned them toward her.
