“Oh, yeah? Where at?”
“Outside of SeaPort,” I answer.
Unvle T stops his fingering swiping. His bushy beard wiggles with his eyebrows. “There a reason he can’t speak for himself?”
“No, sir,” Zane says with a smile. “Meredith has spent most of the afternoon reading children books and most likely wants to engage in adult conversation.”
I open my mouth in protest, then slam it shut with a frown. “They weren’t chidlfren’s books,” I grumble.
Uncle T hoots and goes back to reviewing the receiving log. “Weren’tt you the one saying we should get rid of all that old farty stuff?”
“Yes, but the kids like them.” I fold my arms and glare at Zane. When did he get so fresh?