“I’ll try that,” Hella said. “He did respond to the pinafore I had on last night, and there might be some other clothes here, so I’ll see what I can find — he won’t let me too close, so the brush idea isn’t a good one.” She paused, put a slight whine in her breathing. “Unless you want to come and help?”
“I’ll ask Dad,” Cella said, “but he’s always so busy.”
“You don’t drive?”
“How old are you, Cella?” She should’ve asked that first, but getting the phone call so early in the morning had blindsided her normal thought processes — which didn’t fully engage until after coffee.
“Fourteen,” the word was barely audible. “Does it matter?”
“Well, if you don’t have a licence, it’s too much to ask — unless you want to come over for the…
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