“The same amount came in most months,” Mom said. “Occasionally, it was a little more. But usually it was around sixty-seven thousand dollars”
My mouth falls open. “There’s sixty-seven thousand dollars in here?”
“No,” Dad chuckles. “No, honey.”
“Oh.” I feel silly. “Yeah, that makes sense. That would have been so much—”
“They put in sixty-seven thousand per month,” he clarifies. “Altogether, it holds a little more than twenty-one million.”
Silence. What can I say? What could I possibly say to something like that? Twenty-one million isn’t a real number. It’s like what a little kid says when he’s trying to guess how many jellybeans are in a jar. It’s how many grains of sand are on the beach or how many stars are in the sky.
It sure as hell is not how much money I own.
Mom smiles and str
