12
Leanne looked over her dad’s shoulder as he worked on his computer. “What’s that right there?” she asked, leaning over him and pointing to the screen.
He pushed her back, spluttering. “Your hair went in my mouth,” he said, clawing at his tongue like he could remove whatever invisible germs might be there.
“Sorry,” she said with a grin, rubbing her hand over his smooth head. There had been hair there, once upon a time. Or so he claimed. “But you’re not explaining anything to me, you’re just doing it. How am I supposed to take over and run this place if you don’t show me how?”
Her dad glanced back and tossed her an amused smile. “You’ve been back, what, a couple of weeks and you’re ready to kick your mother and me out?”
“You’re twisting my words to make it sound as awful as you can.”
