Angel had not been able to figure out how to manipulate her father into giving her more money. If he could be so generous with everyone else, why was it so difficult for him to give her a little?
She had donned her oldest, most faded demure dress and coiled her hair to appear as a proper young lady. She seated herself in the wing chair beside the desk in his study. Her facial expression was sweet and serene as she worked on her embroidery.
Her father entered the study with Hank, the foreman, in tow. Hank took a chair on the other side of the desk where he could watch Angel’s face.
Jeb Browning sat heavily at his desk, then looked up as if he had only just then noticed his daughter’s presence. His smile was sardonic. His fingers steepled on the surface before him as he looked at his eldest and only remaining offspring. “What can I do for you today, dear daughter?”
He doesn’t sound as if I’m very dear to him, Angel thought.“Why I just thought I would drop in to say hello and show that I am doing something useful with my time.” Her smile was all sugar and syrup.
“How much is this visit going to cost me?”
He didn’t sound upset. That was good. He seemed to be in a good mood. “Why, Papa, you make it sound as though the only time I come to see you is when I want something.” Her tone was bright yet petulant.