Mail-Order Bride Ink: Dear Mr. Weaver - Plot & Excerpts
“Now let me see …” She eyed the Italian boy staring back at her. “You’re Arturo, right?” “That’s right!” he said with a smile. “Now the rest!” Ebba studied the two girls standing next to him. Arturo, she knew, was ten and a half. One of the girls wasn’t much younger, the other younger still. “This is going to be harder,” she admitted, then bit her lip in concentration. “Don’t tell me. Just give me a minute.” The two girls started to giggle, but quickly slapped their hands over their mouths to stifle it. “What do we get if she guesses wrong?” one of them asked their older brother. “I don’t know.” He shrugged and looked at Ebba. “What do they get?” She held out her empty hands. “I have nothing to give you, I’m afraid.” The younger girl stomped her foot. “Then I’m not going to tell you my name.”
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