“Tickets are confirmed,” he said. “First class to Honolulu.”
My father smiled. “That’s my son-in-law.” Chloe gave a small, pleased bow, as if someone had just presented her with an award. “You’re welcome.” She pulled a stack of boarding passes from her purse.
Four of them had thick gold edges. “Dad.” He handed her one. “Mom.” “Vance, of course.”
He kept the fourth for himself and stroked its gold-lined passages once, slowly and carefully. Then he turned to me with the expression people get when they suddenly remember an obligation they wish they could ignore.
“Oh,” she said.
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