There’s my birthday girl!” he boomed, his voice crackling slightly over the connection. “Happy birthday, sweetheart! Did you get my present?”

Julie ran over, her paper crown sliding down her forehead. “Thank you, Grandpa! I love you!”

Dad’s smile was warm, but his eyes were searching. He looked from Julie’s excited face to the modest decorations in the background. “So,” he asked, his tone shifting slightly. “What did she pick out with the five hundred dollars I sent?”

I froze, the phone feeling suddenly heavy in my hand. Behind me, I heard a sharp clatter as Michael’s coffee mug slipped from his grasp, shattering on the linoleum floor. “What five hundred dollars, Dad?” I asked, my voice a strangled whisper.