Lan nodded. “Make it so. We can afford neither defective space-time filaments, nor any further drops in donut sales.”

Edwin frowned. He knew that a level-four diagnostic, whatever it was, was not going to work. But what could he do? Unlike his sister, he had little aptitude for technology. As such, most of the crew thought he was useless.

Then Edwin noticed Aunty Floresta. She motioned to him and retreated to the kitchen. Edwin nodded and followed.

Once in the kitchen, she gave him a donut.

“Here, eat. What do you think?”

“Um. It’s okay.”

“Really?”

Aunty Floresta watched his reaction carefully.

“Get your coat,” she finally said.

Edwin and Aunty Floresta got to the stop just as the bus arrived. From there, the bus rumbled north, then east.

Edwin did not often leave the store, and when he did, he was usually with his mother in an automobile. The bus was completely different. Its rhythm had less to do with the red and green lights and more to do with people leaving and getting on. Sometimes there was a cart with groceries or a mother pushing a stroller.

So many different people! And Aunty Floresta seemed to know all of them. Edwin had never heard Aunty Floresta speak so much. Someone would get on the bus, Aunty Floresta would wave, and there would be more talk and laughter. Edwin could use Spanish, English, and Cantonese to take donut orders, but his great aunt was having real conversations.

After more than a few stops, they got off the bus. Aunty Floresta checked an address, then led them to a Mexican bakery with the usual cookies and cakes, multicolored pan dulce.

But Edwin scratched his head. With all the cakes and sweets on display, why was he smelling bread?

Then Aunty beelined to a shelf full of warm bolillos. Other women were filling their bags with the rolls, but she was able to get a half dozen.

Floresta also bought two hot chocolates and gestured to a table. Edwin walked over and sat down just as a young white man with a beard and a piece of pan dulce rushed to take it.

“Oh, for crying out—you’re not really going to take that table when I wanted it, are you?”

Edwin was about to get up and apologize when Aunty Floresta put his hand on his shoulder.

“Don’t say sorry. He’s not our customer.” She glared at the man, who muttered something about Asians, then backed off.

“Now, let’s try this,” Aunty Floresta said happily.

First, they sipped the hot chocolate. There was cane sugar, honey, milk, cinnamon, almond, and yes, a small amount of nutmeg.

Then Aunty reached into the bag and pulled out one of the bolillo rolls. She broke it in half and gave one piece to Edwin.