“It’s a lot of money for a camp,” Malcolm said. “You’ll be fine without it. You’re already ahead.”
Roslin gave me a sympathetic look.
“Your father’s right, sweetheart. Besides, we need to think about Celeste’s summer, too.”
Ten minutes later, Celeste breezed in with a glossy brochure for a theater program in New York. “Oh, honey, this looks incredible,” Roslin said, eyes lighting up.
“We can make it work,” Malcolm agreed. “This could really help her confidence.”
No one asked how much it cost. No one mentioned budgets or being “already ahead.”
I watched from the doorway, holding my crumpled letter, and something inside me shifted.
