by Meg Macy
“That sounds great. We’ll find you a chair so you can stay off your feet.”
We chatted and laughed over breakfast. I ate too much, of course. Who could turn down a sticky bun oozing with pecans, and a sugar-coated brioche donut? Aunt Eve arrived, festive in a red skirt and an embroidered sweater with sequined holly leaves and red berries. Dipping her donut into coffee, she took a bite and sighed in satisfaction.
“My goodness! I’ve never tasted anything so decadent.”
I puffed out my cheeks, groaning. I’d be lucky to fit into my sweats for the wedding, but everyone would be looking at the bride anyway. Maybe I could fast for a day or two. Drink green tea, maybe even black coffee. Uh, no.
We all pitched in to move the accessory racks to the conference room. That left plenty of open space for the crowd to walk around and view the Christmas trees, the bears on our shelves, plus fill their plates with treats. Besides the tiny savory pinwheels, meatballs, and other canapés, Mary Kate and Elle arranged a variety of cookies on trays. Date Nut Jingle Bells mixed with plain shortbread and iced sugar cookies from Fresh Grounds. They set out peanut-free and gluten-free assortments as well.
“Keep these near the door, so people can take them home when they leave.” Maddie placed the box with cellophane-wrapped, exquisitely iced Little Lord Fauntleroy teddy bears. “I’m hoping we won’t run out by noon, though.”
“We bought two hundred,” I said, but wondered if she was right.
Aunt Eve put out cups and lids, napkins, and plates near the coffee urns. “There won’t be enough people to eat all these treats,” she joked.
“One year it snowed so much, we sent leftovers to the Silver Birches. But today we’ll have perfect weather. Forty degrees!”
The Silver Bear Shop hosted this event to entertain and give back to the community. If we didn’t sell one bear, I’d still be happy. People always came to eat and drink, peruse all the photos of bears donated to Toys for Tots and other organizations throughout the year, and drop donations, cash, food, or cat litter for Wags and Whiskers, the pet rescue. Maddie had mounted a poster of Rosie with her teddy bear above the large box.
“Is Dad ready?” I asked my sister.
“He will be. I told him to come out between ten thirty and eleven.”
“Great. I’ll go feed Rosie and Nyx.”
That didn’t take long, since they both gobbled their kibble without protest. Rosie trotted back inside after a quick potty break while Onyx curled up on the sunny window seat. I checked my hair and makeup and rushed back to the shop.
Flora Zimmerman arrived at nine thirty with her gingerbread house cookies, carefully packed. “Enjoy, and I hope you get a big crowd,” she said.
“I promise not to break them,” Mary Kate called out. She looked adorable, her slight baby bump showing beneath a blue and white snowman sweater. “It won’t be easy, though, since they balance better on a china mug. Not a paper cup.”
“Do the best you can,” I told her, and taped the laminated page from the Teddy Bear Times magazine onto the wall. It showcased how the Silver Bear Shop & Factory had won the Teddy Bear Keepsake contest. “Maddie, where’s the wizard bear photo?”
“Here, and we’d better open up. People are lined up outside.”
Customers streamed into the shop, mostly women, holding babies or carrying toddlers, red cheeked but excited. Everyone oohed and aahed while they walked through the rooms or waited for cups of hot chocolate, coffee, tea, and treats.
“Yes, this is our Magic of Christmas Beary Potter Keepsake wizard bear,” Maddie said to several women asking questions. “We’re no longer taking orders, however, but you can find them through the shops listed in the brochure.”
“It’s so clever. What a wonderful costume.”
“I bet they’ll bring a high price on eBay,” someone said.
No doubt, but that was beyond our control.
One little boy held his six-inch wizard bear with its black robe, maroon and gold scarf, and wand. Round-rimmed glasses perched on the nose, and we’d included a tiny lightning scar applique sewn onto Beary Potter’s furry forehead.
“Sean, have ‘Beary’ cast a spell on another bear,” his mother said.
“Ally kazam! You’re a cat.”
“A cat bear? Interesting,” I said with a laugh.
Mary Kate was swamped at the hot chocolate table, while Elle showed several girls how to dress their bears for the holidays. I snitched a Date Nut Jingle Bell cookie and then replenished the tray, tossed my latex gloves, and refilled the coffee urns.
At exactly eleven o’clock, a voice boomed from the loft. “Beary Christmas, one and all! Have you been good boys and girls? That’s paws-itively fantastic!”
Everyone craned their necks to see my dad dressed as Santa Bear at the top of the stairs. Joan Kendall and Pam North had designed and sewn a new costume, making sure it was different than Cal Bloom’s polar bear outfit. Dad wanted it to be lighter and more breathable. The end result was a tall brown bear, oddly similar to Paddington Bear except for the head and a longer snout. He wore a red and white Santa coat and hat, glittery black belt, and boots.
Elle the Elf waved to the delighted children. “Who wants to visit Santa Bear? Right this way, no running! Up the stairs, that’s it. He’s a special friend to Santa Claus, so tell him what you’d like under the tree this year. He can’t promise that you’ll get every toy on Christmas morning, but he has a special treat for every child.” She held up a tiny bear with angel wings.
“Santa Bear! Santa Bear!”
I guided the few mothers carrying babies to the elevator. “Easier than climbing the stairs. And thanks for attending our open house.”
“We’ve never missed one yet.” A young woman shifted her toddler to the other hip. “How wonderful to have Santa Bear back in the village, and in a new costume. It can’t be the mayor. That was awful, hearing about his heart attack.”
I nodded, grateful that the elevator doors opened. The mothers joined the throng waiting their turn with Santa Bear. Dad was in his element, sitting in a padded rocking chair, and Elle was helpful in keeping the line moving.
I headed back downstairs to check on the treats, which had depleted fast. Aunt Eve and Maddie were refilling everything, and Mary Kate had gone to the restroom. Someone wanted a cup of hot chocolate. I managed to perch the tiny gingerbread house without breaking it.
“These cookies are scrummy.” Trina Wentworth held up a Date Nut Jingle Bell. “Any idea where I can get them, love? Our last Christmas tea is being held this Sunday.”
“I’ll write down the information.” I jotted Hilda’s, Flora’s, and Amanda’s names and phone numbers after looking them up on my cell. “Mary Kate at Fresh Grounds made the Little Lord Fauntleroy Bears, but you probably know that.”
“Oh, yes. We ordered a good number in their little plastic sleeves. A marvelous take-home for guests.” Trina winked. “Ta, what a lovely event. I’m so glad I toodled over today. Any word when they’ll open the street at Main?”
“Sorry, I haven’t heard anything.”
“Could be the village council has a bit on their minds, what with the mayor’s death. Ah, well. Happy Christmas, Sasha, to you and your family.”
“Same to you. Thanks for coming!”
Trina wove her way through the crowd. I managed to dodge a question about the mayor, glad they didn’t press the issue. I wanted to enjoy this event without thinking about Alison or Kristen Bloom, or anything else about the investigation.
I took a break to check on Rosie. She wasn’t in her crate or on the window seat. Onyx blinked from the top ledge of the cat tower, yawned, and then jumped down to saunter into the laundry room. My dog had to be in there. What had she gotten into now? Rosie raised her head, stretched across a basket of clean towels, and then returned to her nap. Kibble pieces were strewn over the tile floor, too. I scolded her, carried her back to the kitchen and shut the crate door. I’d have to clean up the mess later.
“I hope you know you’re in trouble, little girl.” She looked so forlorn, I unhooked her crate door. “No more getting into trouble. And I’m putting up the gate so you can’t go upstairs.”
I returned to the shop, wondering if getting another dog might help keep Rosie company. Or would it double the trouble? I’d have to think on that.
The crowd hadn’t thinned much by two o’clock. Mary Kate and I added other treats to the empty cookie trays—chocolate-coated pretzel rods, peppermint bark pieces, and teddy bear gummies. Maddie abandoned her red high heels and donned my teddy bear slippers. Dad took a break from the costume, although the lighter fur fabric and foam base for the head was a big improvement. Despite a tiny battery-powered exhaust fan inside, he felt too warm.
“I’ll be back, an hour or less.”
By four o’clock, school-age kids had arrived. Parents must have spread the news about our Santa Bear, and even though the older ones had given up believing, they wanted to high-five Dad and get a photo taken. Elle had left to pick up her kids. I’d sent Mary Kate home long ago, when we’d run out of gingerbread houses. All of the angel bears were gone. We’d planned to close at five, but decided to keep going until we ran out of treats or people. Garrett Thompson sent over more boxes of iced sugar cookies. They vanished within an hour.
Mom arrived at six. I’d expected her earlier, though, and wondered where she’d been all this time. Christmas shopping? Not that she promised to pitch in, of course, but we would have appreciated an extra pair of hands. She stared openmouthed at a broken teddy bear cookie in its wrapper lying on the floor, along with chocolate candy crushed underfoot, and a scattered mess of coffee, tea, and hot chocolate cups.
“Looks like a tornado went through this place.”
I collected the abandoned cups and broken cookie. “Third time I’ve done this.”
Aunt Eve brought a fresh plastic bag. “I’ll help clean up the mess.”
“So it’s over now?” Mom asked.
“Ten minutes.” I glanced at the stragglers leaving out the front door, and then called up to the loft. “Hey, Dad. Check to make sure no kids are hiding up there!”
She eyed me in disbelief. “Really, Sasha?”
“Last year we found a three-year-old eating cookies under the loft table. He made a tent with an afghan, so yeah, it happens. And some parents are forgetful. Or don’t you remember leaving Maddie and me behind one day at the mall?”
“You were nine, and old enough to not panic.” Mom looked sheepish. “That was a horrible day. I’m glad you had enough sense to flag down one of the security guards.”
“They took us to the management office, except you didn’t know that.”
“I should have checked there before running around the mall, searching, and then calling the police. Thank God we have cell phones now.”
Dad emerged from the elevator, alone. “No kids, and I’m bushed. Takes a lot of energy to listen to so many kids, asking for Star Wars lightsabers, Legos of all kinds, the Elsa doll from Frozen, Barbies, and Pet Shop toys. What are those? I knew dinosaurs would never go out of fashion, but hoverboards? What happened to tea party sets or Tonka trucks?”
“Boy, are you dating yourself.” Maddie chuckled. “Don’t forget all the video games for Nintendo and PlayStation. One kid wanted his own motorized car.”
“Can’t wait to grow up, I guess.”
“Elle told me one little girl wanted a job for her dad,” I said.
“Heartbreaking, isn’t it,” Aunt Eve said. “I looked up some numbers of organizations for the mother, plus gave her Marianna Lovett’s number. They have a food pantry.”
Mom waved her hands. “Hello? I have news, good and bad. But I ordered dinner brought in from Flambé. I figured we’d be tired of pizza, tacos, and lasagna.”
“First we have to clean up and move everything back into place,” I said, “because we’re still open until Friday. Then we have the staff party to prep for on Saturday.”
“Nah, you all look beat.” Uncle Ross had arrived, and drew Aunt Eve to her feet. “Leave it for morning, and I’ll send over Tim and Deon, plus a few others. They can get the shop ready for business tomorrow.”
“But—”
“Sasha, really. You look exhausted.” Mom glanced at her wristwatch. “Dinner should be coming any minute. Are any staff still working at the factory, Ross?”
“Nope. I sent ’em home at five today. They deserved it.” He sounded gruff but with an underlying tone of pride. “They worked hard on that Santa Bear costume, too. How was it, Alex? I hope you didn’t suffocate, since heat rises to the loft. Did you roast?”
“Baste me, I’m done.” Dad set the foam head aside. “Actually, it wasn’t bad at all. That fan is a real lifesaver.”
“Joan Kendall watched a YouTube video on mascot costumes,” I said. “That’s how she knew about crafting the head and installing the fan.”
Dad gingerly removed the hat, belt, and the Santa coat by its Velcro fastenings. Maddie and I each pulled off a boot, while Mom helped him out of the furry body.
“We’ll dress you up for St. Patrick’s Day with a green hat and bow tie,” Maddie said. “And a stars and stripes shirt for the Fourth of July parade.”
“Hire someone younger, with more stamina.”
Mom herded us out of the shop and down the hall to our living quarters. I ran upstairs to wriggle out of my skirt and change to comfortable sweats. I also reclaimed my slippers from Maddie and held Rosie tight when she began barking.
Christophe Benoit, the restaurant owner, carried in the boxes from Flambé. “My assistant was detained, that is why your order is late. My apologies.”
“I heard that Gus Antonini is at the police station,” Mom said. “Detective Mason took him and Cissy Davison in for questioning.”
Benoit shrugged. “Yes, Madame. You ordered tenderloin medallions of beef in cream sauce, potato croquettes, salad, chicken portobello linguini with spinach and sun-dried tomatoes, and raspberry cheesecake. Bon appétit.”
“Hope things work out for him.” Dad shook his hand and tipped the chef.
Once he departed we all sat down, Mom rapped the table. “Finally I can tell you the good news. Alison Bloom is bringing in several of Cal’s colleagues, members of the Michigan Funeral Directors Association, to survey the business. She wants to know how much it’s worth, for one thing, and if Dave Richardson has kept it up to standards. She hopes that a corporate chain will be interested in buying it.”
“That’s good news?” Dad looked dismayed. “Dave has his heart set on taking it over, and wants to keep it a family-owned business.”
“That’s the bad news. Alison has no intention of selling to him. Ever.”
Chapter 22
Dad laid down his fork. “Did Alison tell you why?”
“No. I tried talking to her, but she wouldn’t discuss the matter,” Mom said. “Not until Friday, when she has more information.”
“Judith, you’ve got to talk sense into her. Dave’s been there for—”
“You don’t have to tell me! I know how long he’s worked for Cal, how much he did for Cal, how much he learned from Cal, and how Dave kissed his feet. And backside.”
“That’s unfair and you know it.”
I mouthed, “Wow” to Maddie. Aunt Eve caught that and nodded, twirling a finger near her temple. Meaning Alison, not my mother, I hoped. Uncle Ross had his usual sour look.
“Family owned is better than a corporate chain.”
“But she wants to get the most she can get out of it,” Mom said. “Everything depends on the investigation, you know that. The police believe Alison had motive, and this latest news won’t help one bit. Especially since she raised the life insurance benefits. But they have to prove her guilt. Right, Alex?”
“All the paperwork to transfer the business was drawn up by lawyers—”
“But without Cal’s signature, it means nothing. Alison swore he changed his mind. Mark Branson is representing
her, you know. He’s sharp, intelligent, but quiet. Sasha, is he older or younger than his sister Mary Kate?”
“Older. Number three of six kids, and Mary Kate’s the youngest.”
“I didn’t realize she had such a big family.” Mom turned back to Dad. “Anyway, Mark is quite different than Flynn, who can be a little full of himself.”
“A little?” I choked on a piece of beef. Maddie pounded on my back, which didn’t help. Finally, I managed to swallow and gulped some water. “That’s an understatement.”
“Never mind. I’m glad the open house went so well.”
My sister changed the subject. “Speaking of cookies—”
She rambled on about how everyone had loved the gingerbread houses and iced teddy bears. I’d been surprised at how moist the Date Nut Jingle Bells tasted, more cake-like, chock-full of fruit and delicious.
“What about the snowballs that won the contest? They were melt-in-the-mouth fantastic,” Aunt Eve said. “And so pretty with the cranberries and nuts inside.”
“Amanda is making eighteen dozen for the staff party,” Maddie said.
“That should be plenty. So we don’t need a wedding cake—”
“Already ordered it.” Mom wiped her mouth with a napkin. “You never told me what flavor you wanted, so I chose cherry nut. The design is a surprise. And we’re buying you a new living room set for your condo, as a wedding gift from all of us.”
“What?” Aunt Eve’s mouth dropped open. “No, Judith. Our furniture is perfectly fine. The cake, yes, but—”
“I’m not listening.” She blocked her ears. “You can choose vintage style if you want, since it’s all the rage now, but you’re getting new stuff. If you don’t pick out the items, I’ll choose for you. We want it delivered by Christmas.”
Dad laughed. “You know Judith. Better smile and say, ‘Thank you,’ because you’ll lose the battle in the end.”
That was also an understatement. Mom always meant well, though, unlike Flynn. He wasn’t generous to a fault like my mother, either. Except for the huge diamond he’d bestowed on Cheryl Cummings. I snuffed out that twinge of jealousy. Flynn was out of my life, a blessing, and I ought to be grateful. Maybe Maddie was right. With a new wife, he’d be too busy to come nosing around and bothering me.
