Joseph Anderson Donetti followed G.M. through the automatic door of the market. “These doors are backwards,” he complained.
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Joseph and Mac looked at each other. They looked back at G.M. Mac couldn’t wait another second. “Do you like it?” she asked anxiously. G.M.’s eyes twinkled. “I think it’s probably the best bread ever!” she pronounced.
MacKenzie Isabelle Evans and Joseph bent over the wastebasket and rubbed their fingers and hands. They tried to rub off all of the bread dough that was stuck to them.
“Are the two newest bakers in Jacksonville ready to begin?” Mac’s mom, Mrs. Evans, asked with a twinkle in her eye.
“Will you teach me how to make bread, too, when you teach Mac?” Joseph asked eagerly. “It sounds like fun! I like cooking.”
Mac stopped talking. Her idea hadn’t come out exactly like she’d wanted it to. But that was the way it so often was with words.
Joseph Anderson Donetti squirmed in his seat. He shut his eyes and then opened them. He squinted and stared at the pulpit through his eyelashes. He squirmed again and felt G.M.’s hand on his knee.
“I’m so glad you’re mine!” Joseph said softly. “When it stops raining, we’ll go for a long walk together, and I’ll show you all around Jacksonville. And we can play fetch on the lawn. Maybe you can learn how to catch a Frisbee. I saw a dog at the park once catching Frisbees.”
When she was finished, they dashed through the rain. Mac jumped into the backseat first and scooted across to the far side. The dog jumped in after her just as if she had been jumping into Mom’s car all her life.
