Chapter 2 - TWO RECEIPTS
Miles saw me read the message. “Is Dad coming?”
“He says he isn't finished,” I told him.
I didn't repeat the part about making it up to them. Reid had already made one promise this morning that our son had watched him break.
Mae dipped the corner of her pretzel into cheese sauce. “Was that a customer with him?”
Eight-year-olds can hear a dodge before an adult finishes making it. I set my phone aside.
“You both saw Dad across the tank. I'm going to ask him why he was there. You didn't do anything wrong by seeing him, and I don't need you to figure it out for me.”
Miles looked at his hands. “I yelled.”
“That wasn't wrong either.”
Mae wanted to see the jellyfish, so we went. For twelve minutes she stood under violet light, counting the soft shapes rising through the water. Miles counted with her but kept losing his place. I let him be quiet.
At the next bench, I opened the banking app for the credit card Reid and I used for groceries, household bills, and family outings. He'd bought the three regular tickets with it that morning. The charge was $104. Another Tidewater charge, $46, appeared a little later, marked for the photo desk.
The VIP photographer had been arranging a picture across the tank. Reid had paid for that too.
I saved screenshots of the charges and the message, then put my phone away when Mae came back from reading a sign. The transactions were still pending; I knew the final statement would matter more than a screen that might change. But I also knew I didn't have to stand in the aquarium proving a case to understand what I'd seen.
Reid called while the twins were choosing postcards in the gift shop. I stepped to one side where I could still see them.
“The client keeps finding new problems,” he said. “I might miss dinner with your parents.”
My mother and father were coming over at six. Reid had agreed to grill, and he'd reminded me that morning to take the chicken out of the freezer.
“Which building?” I asked.
There was a short pause. “It's the North Shore account. Why?”
“Because you said you'd come back if you could.”
“I want to. Marin, I've got three people waiting on me.”
I looked at the photograph on my phone. There were exactly three people on that VIP deck, if I counted him.
“Then take care of what you need to,” I said.
He sounded relieved. “Tell Miles I'm sorry about the tour.”
“You can tell him.”
I ended the call before he could ask what I meant.
At lunch, Miles pushed half his sandwich around the paper wrapper. He finally asked whether Reid had seen him through the glass.
“I don't know,” I said.
“He didn't wave.”
There wasn't an answer that would make that less painful. I asked whether he wanted to leave, but he shook his head. Mae still wanted the sea turtle show, and he wanted to go with her.
We stayed. I watched two children try to enjoy the day they had been promised, and I stopped myself each time I felt the urge to search the crowd for Reid. We didn't see him again.
Near three, I texted my older sister, Evelyn. She lived twenty minutes away and sometimes picked the twins up when my clinic schedule ran late.
Could you meet us at the aquarium entrance at four and take the kids to Mom and Dad's? I'll follow in my car. Something happened. They're safe.
She answered almost immediately. On my way. Are you okay?
I couldn't answer that without deciding what okay meant. I wrote, I'll tell you when I see you.
Miles had chosen a postcard of a shark with its mouth open. When I asked whom he wanted to send it to, he said, “Grandpa. Dad already saw the real one.” He put it back in the rack and chose a turtle for his grandfather instead. I paid for it, remembering how excited he'd been to make Reid a guide to the shark exhibit that morning.
When Mae and Miles took turns in the family restroom, I stood outside the door and searched the shared card history for Tidewater. I'd been focused on today's charges. The search found another one I hadn't noticed: $648, posted three weeks earlier.
In our household budget, Reid had labeled that week “car maintenance and school supplies.” I had trusted the label because August always cost more than we expected.
May you like
I checked the date again. Three weeks earlier, Reid had told Miles he'd ask about the VIP tour.
He hadn't found it sold out. He had bought three places for someone else.
