Free Celebration by Fern Michaels

be an ongoing project. Your father’s time wasn’t up. It was a bad time for him, being passed over and having to leave the military. He truly believed he could go all the way and make general. He always said he was a thirty-year man, not a twenty-year man. He didn’t want us to see how traumatic it was for him. I understood. I thought you did, too.”
    â€œSee, Mom, you’re sticking up for him again. To a point I can understand it. This is the result. Other families, and we’ve all seen hundreds of them, stick together and tough it out. We were prepared to do that until he chopped us off at the knees. This is not by the book, by the way.”
    â€œBoy, what I could do with eight million dollars,” Cala said.
    â€œSouth Sea islands, here I come,” Tyler said dreamily.
    Exasperated, Kristine said, “Is that all you’re thinking about, the money? Don’t you care about your father?”
    â€œFrom where I’m sitting it doesn’t look like Dad cares much about me, Mike, or Tyler, so to answer your question, no, Mom, I do not care at this particular moment. I saw this coming; so did Mike and Tyler. I guess the big question is, why didn’t you see it?”
    â€œSee what? You’re making your father out to be some sort of ... I don’t know, a horrible person. Why is it so hard to believe something terrible happened to him? It’s an ugly world out there. We were sheltered, protected, while under the umbrella of the military. Your father did not desert us, and he did not steal my money. Excuse me, our money. Why are you saying all these ugly things now?”
    â€œWe never had the chance to say them before. We thought about it every day of our lives, and I think I’m speaking for Cala and Tyler when I say this. Dad was never shy about whipping our asses when we said something out of line or did something wrong. You never took our side, so why all the interest now? We were the good little soldiers. It was always ‘yes, sir, no, sir, yes, sir, whip my ass, sir’ for looking at you crossways. We were never allowed to go anywhere or do anything. He picked our friends, told us what to eat and when to eat it. We had to do calisthenics by the hour, we needed to be tough so we would grow into good big soldiers. We hated it, but we did it because we didn’t have any other choice. It was how we survived. You had eight million dollars, and you wouldn’t let Cala and me go on the class trip to France because Dad said it was too expensive. We were the only two who didn’t go. We even said we’d pay him back. I didn’t see you intervening. We did not have a good life, Mom, so stop deluding yourself,” Mike said. The bitterness in his voice wafted across the room.
    â€œTyler, Cala?” Kristine said tearfully. “Do you two feel the same way?”
    â€œMom, where were you all those years we were growing up and moving around? You’re our mother; you were supposed to see all those things. Good little soldiers that we were, we were not allowed to whine or cry. Stiff upper lip and all that stuff, and then, of course, there was that stupid book you and Dad went by. In case you haven’t noticed, this is our rebellion stage. I can’t wait to leave for college. I suppose we won’t be able to go now. Is that the next thing you’re going to tell us? Guess what, I’m going, and so is Mike, even if we have to work our way through. Aw, Mom, don’t cry. Look, we’re going to go to the storage room and look for those folders. Three sets of eyes are better than one.”
    â€œIn cases like this you always follow the money trail. I saw that in a movie once. It makes sense,” Mike said soberly.
    â€œMerry Christmas to all of us,” Tyler blurted. “Trust Dad to pick a holiday to screw things up. This is one of those things we’ll remember all our lives.”
    â€œYou need to stop this kind