Tracey is still little when Michael brings home the boat. She scrambles across the deck monkey-like, the thought of going sailing with her father sending a manic spike of glee through her young heart.

“Did you steal it?” she asks with excitement.

“No!”

Tracey doesn’t let that dim her enthusiasm. “Do you know how to drive it?”

“I’m taking a class.”

“Can I drive it?” She turns over almost upside down to give him her best puppy dog eyes.

“When you’re older, pumpkin.”

“Are you going to get lost at sea?”

“No!”

Tracey climbs into her father’s arms and laughs.