JJ
Millie planted both hands on her hips in the middle of my shop and looked at Sable and Smitty like she was about to fire them.
“I am eight,” she announced. “Not two.”
Sable pressed her lips together.
Smitty glanced toward me like he expected backup.
I gave him none.
Millie had finished her schoolwork in the clubhouse and wanted to bring me the picture she had drawn during art time. Sable was already walking over with her. That should have been the entire event.
Then Smitty saw them heading toward the secured door and apparently decided the forty-foot trip between the clubhouse and my shop required reinforcements.
By the time they reached me, Millie was furious.
“It’s attached to the same building,” she said, pointing toward the secured door. “I did not need two people to walk m
