Joseph Anderson Donetti stood up beside the kennel at the Humane Society. “OK,” he said. “I’ll look at all the dogs before I pick one.”
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A blond-haired woman behind a counter looked up. “You people must really want an animal to show up here on such a stormy day!” she exclaimed.
Joseph Anderson Donetti stared out the kitchen window and watched the rain pour down. The branches of the evergreen trees across the street waved back and forth in the wind like giant arms waving goodbye to someone they loved.
Hannah Maria Estevez stirred. She stretched. She opened her eyes and looked at the glowing red numbers on the clock beside her bed. 6:39, they said.
“It would be nice if you didn’t talk with your mouth full either,” Mom added. Mac gulped. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I have to eat fast though. I have to go over to Joseph’s. He’s got a big problem he needs me to help him with.”
“How come you don’t go up in the mountains to cut your Christmas tree?” Mac asked. “That’s what I like to do! Sometimes we drive way, way up in the mountains on steep roads until we’re about on top of the world. And it’s all snowy up there."
Joseph Anderson Donetti filled his arms with a load of wood from the shed. He started down the path to the back door of the Beekman House. This wood was heavy stuff! No wonder pioneer boys had been so strong.
Mac gave a little sigh. She had wanted a camera of her own for a long, long time. Maybe someday her parents would take her on a trip and buy her a camera to take along too.
