CHAPTER FORTY-SIX
A Curly ClienteleKit slammed the passenger door and stomped onto the footpath. A neat 1950s villa hugged a wraparound section of lawn beyond a white front gate. Jerry wound down his window and called her back to the car. “I’ll wait here until you’re finished.” He drummed his fingers on the sill as her animosity shrouded them like fog.
“This is a hair appointment! You’re treating me like a child!” She stamped her foot to emphasise the point, and Jerry grinned.
“Can’t imagine why,” he murmured. He shook out a giant newspaper with the title, ‘The Anglican News’ emblazoned above a headline screaming, ‘Chairs or pews?’ A cool breeze rippled the paper, and Jerry wound up the window. Kit stomped through the gate and up the crazy paved path to a red front door. She glared back
