To A Macallister Born. Joan Elliott Pickart

in jeans, a navy-blue sweatshirt and her Big Bird slippers, she entered the kitchen twenty minutes later in a less-than-chipper mood. With a mug of hot coffee in one hand, she began to assemble Joey’s breakfast with the other, a frown on her face.

      “Mom,” Joey said, coming into the kitchen.

      “What!” Jennifer snapped. Then her shoulders slumped. “Oh, Joey, I’m sorry. I sound like a grumpy bear. Good morning, sweetheart. Did you sleep well?” She paused. “How did you get into the house?”

      “You didn’t answer my knock at the front door, and the doorbell’s broke, and I had to use the key from under the mat to get in.”

      Jennifer set her mug on the counter and lifted Joey into her arms. “I apologize,” she said, then kissed him on the nose. “I didn’t start my day with my best foot forward, but I’m fine now. I’ll fix you breakfast, then walk you to school.”

      “’Kay,” he said, wiggling to get down.

      Jennifer set him on his feet.

      “But don’t hold my hand when we turn the corner by the school, Mom,” Joey said, sliding onto his chair at the table. “That’s baby stuff, and I’m big now.”

      “Yes, you certainly are getting big,” she said quietly. “Very quickly, too. You’ll be grown and gone before I know it.”

      Joey frowned. “Gone where? I belong here with you. I’m never going to leave you, Mommy. Never, ever, never. ’Cause if I did, you’d be all alone.” He straightened in his chair and smiled. “No, you wouldn’t. Not if you were the next bride ’cause you caught the flowers. Then you’d have a groom guy and you wouldn’t be alone at all.”

      To Jennifer’s dismay she was assaulted by the memory of being held so tightly in Jack’s embrace, wrapped in the safe, strong cocoon of his arms as he kissed her.

      “Don’t start that again, Joey. I am not going to be the next bride. I’ll be just fine when I’m alone after you’re grown up. Clear?”

      “No,” he said, sticking out his bottom lip in a pout. “I’m going to talk to Uncle Ben and Uncle Brandon about this. I’m going to tell them that you’re breaking the rules about catching Aunt Megan’s flowers. You told me I should never break rules, Mom.”

      “Oh, my stars,” Jennifer said, rolling her eyes heavenward. “I don’t believe this. We are now changing the subject. What do you want for breakfast? Cereal? Toast? Eggs?”

      “Hot dog with mustard.”

      “Why not?” she said, throwing up her hands.

      “And potato chips,” Joey added.

      “Don’t push your luck, sir. I’ll trade you potato chips for a banana.”

      “And orange soda.”

      “Milk.”

      Joey sighed. “’Kay.”

      Jennifer began to prepare the agreed-upon breakfast as Joey chattered about beating Grandma Clark at Candy Land the previous evening.

      Jennifer laughed. “Poor Grandma Clark. You played Candy Land again? She can probably do it in her sleep by now.”

      “Huh?”

      “Never mind.”

      “Guess what, Mom. It’s my turn to feed the gerbil at school today. That is so cool. Can I have a gerbil of my own? I’ll keep it in my bedroom.”

      “Oh, ugh, no,” Jennifer said, smiling. “Those things remind me of mice. Just enjoy the one at school.”

      “Can I have a dog? Know what? Sheriff Montana told me he might get a dog. If I had a dog, then my dog and Sheriff Montana’s dog could be friends. Wouldn’t that be really great?”

      “One hot dog with mustard, plus a banana,” Jennifer said, placing a plate in front of Joey. “There—you have a dog.”

      “That’s a hot dog,” Joey said, giggling.

      “A dog is a dog. I’ll get your milk.”

      Jennifer crossed the room and took a carton of milk from the refrigerator. As she turned again, she saw Joey jump from his chair. “Where are you going?” she said.

      “Somebody is knocking at the front door,” he said, running from the room.

      “So early?” she said, frowning. “Wait, Joey. Don’t open the—darn it.”

      Jennifer hurried after Joey as quickly as her Big Bird slippers would allow, the carton of milk still in one hand. Joey flung open the door, and Jennifer stumbled slightly before coming to a halt behind him.

      “Hi,” Joey said.

      “Hi. I’m Jack MacAllister, a friend of your mom’s. You must be Joey. I borrowed your blanket last night and I came to return it. I also brought some fresh cinnamon rolls from Hamilton House as a thank-you gift for allowing me to use your Pooh bear.”

      Jack shifted his gaze slowly to look at Jennifer. “Good morning, Jennifer,” he said, smiling. “May I come in?”

      “Sure,” Joey said, stepping back and bumping into his mother.

      Jack entered the house, and Joey slammed the door.

      Jack swept his gaze over Jennifer, chuckling as he gave special attention to her feet. “Love the slippers,” he said, grinning at her. “Milk? Great,” he added, nodding toward the carton in her hand. “That will hit the spot with these cinnamon rolls. Come on, Joey. Let’s dig into these goodies while they’re still warm.” He dropped the blanket onto the sofa.

      As Joey and Jack headed for the kitchen, Jennifer just stood where she was, Big Bird slippers on her feet, a carton of milk in her hand.

      “My life,” she said, a rather bemused tone to her voice as she stared into space, “is suddenly out of control.”