42
“It’s too early for this,” I mutter to Daniel.
But there’s no stopping the face that swirls into focus on the screen between the front and back seats of the car.
“Good morning, Regina,” I say.
“It’s midnight here,” she corrects me. “I’ve had to stay up just to talk to you.”
“Then let’s keep it short so you can go to bed.”
“Are you out of your mind, young lady?” she demands. “What were thinking, announcing to a reporter that you intend to invest in that crackpot history studio?”
I consider telling her the son of the crackpot studio’s owners is in the car with me, but she won’t care anyway.
“It’s my money,” I remind her.
“It’s your inheritance,” she reminds me, “which you don’t control until you’re eighteen.”
“Then I’ll wait until I’m eighteen.”
She doesn’t have an immediate an
