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“Right. Thanks.”

“But now for the good news! The flickering spot you called us about? It’s just a bad cable.” He pointed to the output. “Go ahead and shake that one right there. Go on.”

I blew on my fingers—Dad did that once before jumping my Jeep and swore it helped—and wiggled the cable to the spot. Sure enough, the bulb flickered. “The kit we bought came with extra cables,” I said. “We can use one of those, right?”

“Right.”

I let out a breath. “Change a cable, add a splitter, set the rest of my cues, and get Hazel caught up on the follow spot. Totally doable.” If I had weeks and not days.

“About that splitter.” Carl tapped his clipboard. “It is going to cost a little more than what the website says.”

So much for optimism. “How much more?” I’d sell one of my kidneys if I had to so I could get this crap done. It’s not like I needed both.

Ms. Sparrow appeared at my side and placed her hand on my shoulder. “Money is no longer a problem. Just get our girl what she needs.”

Say what?

“You got it.” Carl gave a small salute and hurried over to the back of his truck.

“What do you mean, ‘Money is no longer a problem?’ ” I grabbed two bottles from the cooler near my and Katie’s table and offered one to Ms. Sparrow.

She grinned. “We received a donation of fifteen hundred dollars yesterday.”

Water sprayed out of my mouth. “Wh-what? From who?”

She pulled her bright yellow framed sunglasses down to the tip of her nose. “From your father.”

I drove over to Crowley Park on my lunch break and marched straight onto the field. “Dad?” I called.

TJ flipped up his mask from behind home plate and yelled toward the outfield. “Hey, Coach! You’ve got a visitor!”

Dad said something to Caleb and Asher, two of his outfielders whom he also coached at our high school, and then jogged over to where I stood by the dugout. “Hey. Don’t you have rehearsal today?”

“Yeah, I do…” I bounced back and forth on my feet. “But this is my lunch break.”

“Oh.” He took off his hat to wipe his forehead. “Is everything okay? Did you need something?”

I crashed into him and wrapped my arms around his neck, hugging him tighter than I had in years. This was the dad I had been waiting for, the one I had missed for so, so long.

He squeezed me tightly before pulling away. “What was that for?”

“For moving the championship so Reed could play. For bringing your coaches to help get the amphitheater ready, and for”—tears fell down my cheeks—“for donating that money. Dad, I—I don’t know what to say—”

“You’ve already said it.” His eyes turned misty, and he pulled me into another hug, patting my head the way he used to in junior dance rehearsals when I’d had a horrible performance. “I’m so sorry it took me this long to get here. I won’t make that mistake again, Eliza Jean. I promise.”

Later that week, I woke up to back-to-back texts and selfies from Lauryn at the salon. She had bags under her eyes, but her hair was already looking awesome.

Lauryn: This crown braid is taking FOREVER

Lauryn: And Mom’s driving me crazy

Another picture downloaded of Lauryn’s mom photobombing her selfie, holding up two cups of coffee behind her.

Me: Your hair looks AMAZING!

Me: And at least she brought coffee!

Lauryn: Those cups are both hers