My husband and my sister laughed while my daughter Holly was dying in a hospital bed. Then he smirked and said, “Holly had a good run. We need that money for my son with your sister.”

Not the accounts he tried to steal.

The real fortune was breathing next to me, laughing when the wind blew her hair into her mouth, complaining about sand in her shoes, asking if we could stop for fries on the way home.

“Yes,” I said before she finished asking.

She smiled. “You didn’t even hear the question.”

“I know the answer.”

Holly leaned against me continue reading …