by Sable Sylvan
“Everyone has fat,” said James. “Some folks have more. Some have less. Over the year, us bears need to make sure we have enough fat to keep us sated through the winter.”
“Or what, you starve?” asked Ginger, raising a brow.
“We get grumpy and have to wake up to make sandwiches,” said James, taking the jar of honey and looking over it. “I’d rather drink this now than have to wake up and make a peanut butter and honey and marionberry jam and ham and Swiss cheese sandwich later.”
“Did you just mix frikkin’ ham and Swiss with a bunch of sweet sauces?” asked Ginger. “What are you, one of those freaks that loves pineapple on their pizza?”
“Baby, you have no idea just how freaky I can get,” said James with a wink. “And, for the record—I am one of those freaks. I’ve got weirder cravings than a sorority alum group full of pregnant women.”
“That’s a weird-ass metaphor,” said Richard.
“I’m a weird-ass kind of shifter,” said James. With that, he opened the bottle of honey and lifted it up. Unlike Richard, who had consumed his treat neatly, James saw the situation for what it was. It was an opportunity to showboat. James was one of those bear shifters who would’ve fit right in at the zoo, heck, even in a circus. If he’d been born a full-on bear, not a shifter, just a full-on bear, he would’ve been the kind that did tricks for visitors to a state park in exchange for food. Of course, he probably would’ve been shot with a tranquilizer gun and checked for rabies, because of his downright crazy behavior.
Heck, that abnormal behavior would’ve been as crazy as that of a shifter with mate madness. Richard looked over his competition. Maybe James did have mate madness. Perhaps that’s why he didn’t see Richard as a threat, and why he thought Ginger was his mate when she so obviously belonged to him.
Well, technically, neither Richard nor James knew what the heck their mate marks meant. They didn’t much care at that point, given they were both sure they’d met their mate. The war between Richard and James was a wintery one—a cold war—and although they hadn’t come to fisticuffs yet, they were both ticking time bombs. Which one would be the first to escalate the situation…and would their inevitable brawl make Ginger run, run, run, as fast as she could, away from her ginger bear men?
James tipped the honey bottle so that the honey would drip past his mouth, down to his neck. It would make him sticky, but that was fine. He was a man who knew how to work hard and play harder. Up on the mountain, he’d been trained hard by Terrence, who made it clear that Port Jameson’s mountains were no place for pretty boys.
James’ bear roared. He had cared about the feud between James and Richard because it was over a mate, but now that there was honey involved, he was excited.
James’ sensual devouring of the honey turned feral. His bear snapped at the honey, and James, in turn, snapped his jaw at the dripping honey.
Ginger had to admit there was something sexy about men that could eat—and bears that knew what they liked. Men with big appetites, well, they could appreciate big women. The question still remained—which bear did she want more? That was a question that would remain unanswered, but it certainly had been worth the show.
They washed their sugary drinks down with their water and milk.
“Hey,” said Richard, putting a finger on the underside of Ginger’s jaw. “You dropped this.” He gently pushed her jaw back up.
Ginger put her hand to her mouth. Had it really been hanging open? Had her jaw hit the floor like Santa shooting down a chimney? Darn it! She had been trying to play it cool, but her silly joke had become sexy! She’d played herself!
One thing was for sure. The maple syrup and honey had definitely been worth Ginger’s twenty dollars.
Ginger’s phone beeped. It was time for her to go inside, flip the sign to read ‘Open,’ and unlock the doors, and turn on the Christmas lights hung up in the main bay window and around the displays.
Ginger went inside and set up the pop-up shop. It really needed a better name than ‘the Bear Claw Bakery pop-up shop,’ but that was not Ginger’s problem.
A woman came into the shop and looked around, a scowl on her face, taking notes and pictures using her phone. Ginger thought nothing of it at first. It was cold outside. Maybe the woman was just annoyed at the weather. Perhaps she had to find a last-minute gift for someone she disliked to be polite at an office party. Ginger knew it was very easy to judge others, so she tried not to do it too much. Although the holidays were a period of joy for many, there were often difficult moments, and she tried to be sympathetic to people.
Customers came and went, but the woman remained. Ginger approached the woman.
“Hi! Welcome to the Bear Claw Bakery pop-up shop. Are you finding everything you’re looking for?” asked Ginger. “We have all kinds of wonderful things for sale. We just sold out of our large warm quilts, but we’ll be getting more of those in soon. Have you seen our gingerbread house kits? Those have been very popular this season.”
“Hmmph,” said the woman, looking over Ginger with a quirked brow.
“May I help you?” repeated Ginger.
“No…” said the woman slowly.
“Are you sure?” asked Ginger.
“Well, there is one thing you could do,” said the woman.
“Anything for a customer,” said Ginger with a smile.
“Close up shop and stop copying Toad in the Hole Café,” said the woman, crossing her arms.
“Excuse me?” asked Ginger with a laugh. She couldn’t help laughing. What the woman had said just seemed absolutely nonsensical.
“Bear Claw Bakery has copied Toad in the Hole Café for long enough!” hissed the woman.
“And who are you?” asked Ginger.
“Andrea—the woman in charge of running our pop-up,” said Andrea, crossing her arms.
“Okay, cool,” said Ginger. “Can I help you?”
“Yes, by closing up shop,” said Andrea. “Didn’t you hear me the first time?”
“Well, unfortunately, we’re plumb out of ‘closing up shop,’ but if you want some cookies, you know where to find me. I suggest you browse our local wares, like candles made by a local artisan!” said Ginger cheerily.
Ginger went back to her station and cleaned up. She saw Andrea frowning. The only winning move for Ginger had been not to play the silly game at all.
Well, Ginger couldn’t entirely resist messing with Andrea. As she left, Ginger called, “Actually, we are closing up!”
Andrea frowned. “You are?”
“Yes,” said Ginger. “You can find our closing hours on the door. We close up earlier on Tuesdays but later on Thursdays. Ta-ta, and have a very Merry Christmas!”
Chapter Four
On the fourth day of Christmas, Fate sent to Ginger four hungry stomachs…
The bells at the door jingled. A woman entered the shop with her three kids. There was a little girl, around age seven, a young boy, around age ten, and a young teen boy, around age thirteen. They were shivering and wearing threadbare clothes. At first, Ginger thought nothing of it, as oftentimes, tourists from California and other warm states wouldn’t know how to dress for the weather. Still, their clothes wouldn’t’ve been inappropriate for the weather, back when they were new. Their parkas and hats were just so worn that they were of little use against the snow.
The woman waited in line with the kids. Ginger quickly served the customers in front of her, concerned about the chilly family. As soon as they came up to the counter, Ginger made a point to listen, and not to rush them.
“Hello,” said Ginger. “My name’s Ginger. Welcome to the Bear Claw Bakery pop-up shop. Can I help you find anything?”
The woman looked around, embarrassed. “Uhm…would it be possible for us to use your bathroom?”
“Absolutely,” said Ginger with a smile. She grabbed the bathroom key. It was attached to a heavy wooden candy cane so it didn’t get lost. “If you follow the signs to the bathroom, you can find it upst
airs. Is there anything else I can get you?”
“Do you think there’s food?” the girl whispered to her mom. Her mom’s cheeks reddened.
Ginger looked at the mom and winked. She got down on her knees and opened the case of treats.
“Anything catch your eye, honey?” asked Ginger.
“It all looks good,” said the girl, with wide eyes. “What’s your favorite?”
“I like the gingerbread girls,” said Ginger. “You know, you kind of look like one, because you’re just so cute! Be careful, or I might just eat you up!”
“I promise, next time we come here, I’ll buy you one,” the mom said to the girl. “Let’s use the bathroom and get out of this nice lady’s hair, okay?”
The mom and the girl and the youngest boy went up the stairs. The teen boy awkwardly hung back, browsing the candles and bath salts and soaps, as there wasn’t much else to do at the store.
Ginger whistled and her bears popped up. They’d been busy putting a display up in the window.
“What’s up?” asked Richard, leaning over the counter.
“It’s that boy,” said Ginger.
“What? Is he stealing?” asked James.
“No—his family looks like they might need some help,” Ginger said tactfully. “Would you two mind talking to him and making sure things are okay? Nobody’s in trouble. I just think the family might…need some neighborly aid.”
Richard nodded. The friendlier of the two, he headed over…but the usually bubble man didn’t make much headway. Meanwhile, James helped Ginger load up a big bag full of pastry boxes. In the boxes were day-olds—not the best food, but better than nothing—and some water bottles and a first aid kit Ginger had found underneath the sink.
Richard was a bust. The young man had no interest in talking to Richard, who was friendly and bubbly—the last thing that a teen boy wanted to talk to. James headed over. Usually, Ginger wouldn’t recommend James handle something involving a soft touch…but she watched as James just stood by the boy, and let the teen make conversation. It was as if James was feeding a skittish feral deer. Ginger looked away because she thought that it would be obvious she was staring.
She didn’t know what to pack in the bag for the family and hoped she wasn’t overstepping. She remembered to pull a gingerbread girl cookie out and put it on a plate and then made four cups of hot cocoa with peppermint sticks. The younger boy had seemed shy, so she made sure to put extra marshmallows in his cocoa.
Ginger carried the tea service set over to one of the more Christmassy tables in the small seating area inside the pop-up shop. The table was usually used by dads waiting James moms to finish up the Christmas shopping. She arranged things neatly, and Richard walked over to her when she’d gone back into the kitchen area to grab some heavier fare.
“Homeless, on the move,” said James succinctly. “Looking to stay with friends in Portland, on the way down to the southwest. Just passing through.”
“In this weather?” asked Ginger. “I’m not overstepping, am I?”
“Would you rather regret overstepping, or not having done anything at all?” asked James, raising a brow. “Be blunt. Be honest. Be the you I know you are, and do what you think is right.” He pulled Ginger in for an unexpected hug and let go as quickly as he’d pulled her close. He walked out the backdoor, back to the firewood sale being run in the backyard of the shop. Ginger turned back to face the shop and waited for the mom to come back down.
“Uhm, excuse me, miss!” called Ginger.
The woman turned. “Me?”
“Yes, may I…may I have a word?” asked Ginger.
The mom looked over her three kids and sighed before walking over to Ginger. “I’m so sorry, miss. Did they break something?”
“No, no, nothing like that,” said Ginger apologetically, realizing she’d phrased things awkwardly. “I was wondering if you’d like some food before you hit the road.”
“That’s very nice of you, but we’re on a tight budget,” said the woman.
“On the house,” blurted out Ginger. “It’s already set up. Anonymous benefactor.”
“Oh, really?” asked the woman. “This isn’t a prank for some game show, right?”
“No, it’s…it’s on the house, I’m the one paying for it,” admitted Ginger. “I just. I know y’all’re going through a lot, and I know a nice warm meal can make all the difference during tough times. Well, we don’t have hot food here, so a nice cold meal, would that do?”
“As long as you join us,” said the woman. “Kids, what do we say?”
All three kids, even the surly teen, said, “Thank you!”
Ginger grabbed her mug of Christmas tea, flipped the sign on the door to read ‘Closed,’ and went to sit with the family. “What brings you to Port Jameson?”
“Just passing through,” said the woman. “My name’s Ivy, Ivy Gray. My kids and I, well, we’ve fallen on tough times, but we’re not giving up. We’re looking to stay with some family in Nevada. Just gotta get there, is all. Gonna get another job, work hard, and have somewhere we can stay permanently.”
“There’s a shelter in town,” said Ginger. “Maybe you can stay there for a few nights. The weather’s supposed to get nasty. You don’t want to be driving during a blizzard.”
“There’s a shelter in a town this small?” asked Ivy. “I feel so silly. I hadn’t even thought to check for that kind of thing!”
“There’s a shelter, but we’re not as well equipped as bigger cities,” said Ginger. “I’d offer you my place, but I live in a tiny apartment.”
“We have to stay together,” said Ivy. “We’re all we’ve got. That’s the one thing I’ve always made sure of—that we stick together.”
“You’re a strong mama bear,” said Ginger.
“Well, right now, what I am is a mama bear with a car full of kids and a bag full of hope,” said Ivy. “Things got so hard, living up in Seattle, after my…well, after their father, my husband, my one true love, passed on.”
“My condolences,” said Ginger, taking the woman’s hands. “Look. I’m a small-town baker. I can’t do much. But, come here every night, ten minutes after closing, and I will give you all the day-olds I have left. It won’t be the freshest food, but it’ll be free and tasty. What do you say?”
“I couldn’t impose,” said Ivy.
“Otherwise, most of it goes in the trash,” said Ginger. “Please, stick around Port Jameson for a time, and let us, as a town, find a way to help you, Ivy. Okay?”
“Most folks see our tattered clothes and rust bucket of a car and make a judgment,” said the teenage boy, who had been pretty quiet. “Mama, this is the one nice stranger we’ve met on our travels.”
“That’s where you’re wrong, Cletus,” said Ivy. “This is the first friend we’ve met on our travels.”
Ginger gave Ivy her number and printed her off a map of the area, as well as information about local resources for homeless families. Unfortunately, as it was the holidays, many places had restricted hours. But, having a place to settle down before they had to move on meant they wouldn’t have to spend the holidays on the dangerously icy roads.
Talking to Ivy gave Ginger a bit of a reality check. While Ginger had been worried about which bear shifter to pick, there were folks out there dealing with real hard problems, during the icy winters, during the very emotional holidays. She had it good, and now, it was time to give out some good.
After Ivy and her family left, Ginger flipped the sign back to reading ‘Open.’ She just hoped the folks of Port Jameson could find it in their hearts to put an ‘Open’ sign on their own doors, and on their hearts. Maybe they could show a little generosity to one of the many families in need that holiday season.
Chapter Five
On the fifth day of Christmas, Fate sent to Ginger five ripped presents…
Patricia came by to drop off some supplies for Ginger. Of course, it was even more Christmas themed ribbon for the wrapping station. As Chris
tmas got closer, more people came by the Christmas pop-up to buy presents, and that meant wrapping more presents—and more paper cuts! At least Ginger had cute Christmas themed bandages for her fingers.
“Hey, Patricia,” said Ginger. “Thanks for the extra ribbon. You know—it’s so funny. I always end up with just a little ribbon leftover each night. Like, not enough to use for a full day of wrapping, but not enough to toss.”
“Ah, just keep it in that box in the storage closet,” said Patricia, waving her hand. “I’m sure we’ll find a use for those scrap bits. By the way, how would you feel about earning some extra dough?”
“Is it the kind of dough I can use to create those cookie-cutter men?” asked Ginger. “No? Okay. Well, with the holidays coming up, I could use some extra cash.”
“Great,” said Patricia. “Go to Hemlock Lodge tonight and help Terrence make some gingerbread cookies.”
“That’s the job?” asked Ginger.
“He asked me to do it, but I don’t need extra cash this season, so I thought to pass on the job to someone who might need the dough,” said Patricia.
“Oh, and I look like I need it?” asked Ginger.
“Do you want me to offer this to Gretel instead?” asked Patricia.
“No, no, I’ll take it,” said Gretel.
“Great, I’ll text you the time and place—or, you could just hitch a ride with James,” said Patricia. “You’d save on gas.”
“Darn it, Patricia—you know that these financial tips aren’t going to net you a bigger Christmas gift from me!” said Ginger. “In fact, these comments might have me skipping your stocking entirely!”
“My ears were burning,” said a deep voice. Ginger turned, and Patricia took the opportunity to dip out of the situation like a biscotti getting pulled out of a pumpkin spice latte.
“James, could I ask you for a favor?” asked Ginger.
“Anything,” said James.
