My mom hurries through the cabin, putting in earrings as she tells me what to do—like I’m eight and this is the first time she’s ever left me alone. “Keep the door locked.” She paces through the living room and I bite back a sarcastic remark. If everyone will be at the luau, who’ll break in? “The number’s by the phone, you know where we’ll be. Brunch will be over by noon, I’m sure. Isn’t that right, Jim dear? Noon?”
My dad steps into his shoes and nods. He probably doesn’t know, just agrees with her. It’s easier that way.
Noon—I have to make sure Travis is dressed and gone by then.
Opening the cabin door, my dad stands half inside, half out, as if this might hurry her along. “He’s old enough to take care of himself. Are we ready yet?”
Yes, please, go, I pray. Travis will be here soon,
