Page 72 of Love Overboard
She made sure Jon was out of earshot before she sank onto the chair by her dad. “You gambled in the casino?” Lacey’s gaze darted around the crowded lobby, and she lowered her voice. “How much did you lose?”
“Not that much.” He scooted his legs against the chair and tugged his hat lower. “I got a payout from the little machine, but when I switched to the Big Bertha …” His shoulders rose. “I bet they were rigged.”
“How much, Dad?”
He ducked his head and mumbled, “Twenty-two hundred.”
“Two thousand two hundred dollars!” Lacey sprang from her chair. “How did you spend that much on a slot machine?”
Her father’s lips scrunched into a pout. “If they had decent entertainment on this boat, I wouldn’t have been so bored. It’s not like my daughter is making time for me in her busy schedule.”
“But two thousand …” Lacey tried not to calculate how many hours of work that equaled. “Where did you get the cash?”
“Your mother had her debit card with her, and …” He waved his hand in a circle.
“Mom.” Lacey’s voice sank. “Why did you give it to him?”
Her mother’s chin quivered. “Your father was sure he would hit the jackpot. He wanted to buy you a special present for your birthday.”
Lacey covered her face with her hands, the air leaving her nose in tiny, derisive puffs. “Happy birthday to me.”
“Are you sick?” her mom asked.
“I’m fine.” She looked up, but her mother wasn’t speaking to her. She was leaning over her husband.
He slumped forward, his arms propped on his knees. “I think today was too much for me.”
Lacey’s jaw clenched, and her gaze traveled to the painted ceiling overhead. Angelic cherubs peeked at her from behind flowering trees. She counted the mischievous infants in the pastel fresco.
One.
Two.
Three.
“My chronic fatigue is flaring up.” Her father staggered from the chair and swayed.
Lacey’s fingers clutched at the sides of her skirt, wrinkling the starched material. A phone rang at the front desk. Laughter exploded from a group entering the side door. A child whined for a snack.
Four.
Five.
Her mother grabbed his arm. “Lacey, help me get your father to our stateroom. The color’s drained out of his face.”
Six.
Seven.
“Don’t bother her,” he said. “I don’t want to be a burden. She needs to get back to her job.”
Eight.
In her peripheral vision, she saw her mother loop an arm around her husband’s waist.
“Try to make time for us tonight, honey. We can have dinner together if your father’s recovered.”
Nine.
