Say hi to the sharks,” my daughter-in-law whispered as she pushed me off the yacht. My son, David, just stood there, smiling. Their plan was to steal my three-billion-dollar fortune. But when they returned home later that evening, I was sitting in my favorite armchair with a very special gift waiting for them.
Let me back up and tell you how a perfectly reasonable Tuesday morning led to me plummeting into the Atlantic Ocean. I suppose I should have seen it coming. But at sixty-seven, I still believed that family meant something. That blood was thicker than seawater, if you will.
