Then I remembered that just before the auction (to raise funds to rent the hall and buy the food for next year’s reunion) had started, I’d asked my dad how much money he’d brought in case I needed to supplement my bids. Of course, I had reassured him, “I’ll pay you back tomorrow.”
He’d shrugged and opened his wallet, where I got a glimpse of $60.
After I’d claimed my prize for $16 and given him the change from the $20 he had handed me, I looked at him and blinked. “You know I wasn’t really planning on paying you back, right?”
My dad rolled his eyes. “Of course I knew that, Shay. That’s why I smacked your hand when you tried to bid on the second necklace.”