Bearly Departed

by Meg Macy

  “I’m not—”

  “Don’t try and deny it.” My uncle shook a fist. “I heard a rumor that our biggest rival, Bears of the Heart, has a copy of our teddy bear pattern. Got an explanation, Taylor? Did you sell it to them and pull a fast one over my brother?”

  Will stared him down. “That’s a damned lie.”

  My uncle’s cruder curse in reply elicited a gasp from all four sewing ladies, plus Maddie. He didn’t apologize, either. “If I find out it’s true, bucko, you’ll be sorry,” he retorted. “I’ll have your head on a platter, wait and see!”

  “Uncle Ross, please. This is getting out of hand,” I said firmly. “We don’t know for certain if Bears of the Heart has our bear pattern.”

  He ignored me. “Taylor wants me out of here, Sasha. That’s the only way he can control my brother and put these changes into place!”

  Will held up both hands in surrender. “I’m doing the job Alex Silverman hired me to do, watching the market trends and scoping out the competition. Plus boosting sales. I’m telling you here and now that if we send production overseas, we’ll triple our profits. That’s a guarantee.”

  “Maybe we need a new sales representative.” Uncle Ross barked a laugh. “How much you wanna bet our numbers will improve after that?”

  “Maybe we need a supervisor who shows up on time, and doesn’t go off for long lunch hours with his buddies,” Will shot back. “Time to retire, bucko.”

  I stepped between them, afraid they’d come to blows. Deon pushed Uncle Ross toward his corner chair. “You’ll be sorry for that wisecrack, Taylor,” my uncle muttered. “I may be close to retirement, but I get the job done. The whole job.”

  “Ease up, man. It ain’t worth it,” Deon said. “Take it easy.”

  “Uncle Ross does his job perfectly well,” I said in his defense. “He’s not ready to retire anytime soon, and keeps things under control at the factory. No one’s job will be cut. You’ve got my word on that.”

  “You tell him, Sasha.” Uncle Ross sank into the soft leather chair. “Alex will have to pry my cold, dead fingers off the cutting press or the stuffing machine before I take a hike.”

  I was thankful Will didn’t take a crack at my uncle’s missing fingers. He sounded bitter when he replied. “Obviously you won’t face facts. The commercials on TV around the holidays, the stuff-your-own-toy places at the mall. Can we afford to do that? No. Cute posts on Twitter or Facebook don’t sell bears. Wait and see. We’ll keep on losing money if we don’t expand our product line and manufacture in China.”

  Lois struggled to her feet. “Mr. Taylor, I can’t afford to lose my job. I can’t,” she said in desperation. Her eyes glistened with tears. “My husband needs long-term care and treatment for cancer. Paying for private insurance will break us.”

  Will ignored her. “We could add bunnies, dogs, cats, and all kinds of zoo animals. Maybe we could let the kids stuff them if that’s what it takes to compete.”

  “So instead of being unique, we’ll end up just like every other run-of-the-mill company,” I said. “Your big idea sounds more like business suicide.”

  “It’s a sidestep, Sasha. Our prices will beat the competitors after production costs go down. It’s the only way to do it.”

  Lois shook a fist at him. “I can’t lose my job! I’ll kill you first—”

  “Whoa,” Uncle Ross said. “I’ll be the first one to gut him like a fish.”

  “No more threats, please.” I held up my hands. Maddie inched her way to stand beside me, and I was relieved that we made a united front. “Grandpa T. R. must be rolling over in his grave. Nothing will change until Mom and Dad come home and discuss the issue. In person.”

  “Don’t worry,” Maddie said to Lois, who hadn’t sat again. “I’m looking into a different medical plan. The premiums are almost equal with more benefits.”

  Lois looked ready to hyperventilate. “They’ll never take him in his condition.”

  “There’s a new law that prevents discrimination against people with preexisting conditions,” my sister reassured her. “So that won’t be the case.”

  Will cleared his throat. “Can we get back to the real issue of staff cuts, please?”

  Lois wailed at that. “We can barely afford the deductible now—”

  “No one is losing their job at this factory!” I matched Will’s venomous stare.

  Uncle Ross jumped to his feet again. “I can’t wait till my brother gets home from that toy fair. I’ll find out exactly what he said, you thieving son of a—”

  “Please, stop!” Maddie looked close to tears. “This isn’t doing anyone any good.”

  “If I ever find out Bears of the Heart did get a copy of our pattern, my brother and I will both boot you to Main Street.” Uncle Ross looked triumphant.

  “Try and prove I had anything to do with it.” With that, Will stormed out.

  Chapter 5

  “How else could Teddy Hartman get our pattern?” Uncle Ross grumbled. “I’ll prove Taylor is behind it. No matter what it takes.”

  My uncle headed out, followed by Deon. Pete Fox moseyed after them in silence. I figured they’d both keep an eye on Uncle Ross and make sure he didn’t do anything foolish. Then I drew a deep breath and turned to the others.

  “Well, that’s the end of this meeting,” I said. “Go home, everyone. Rest up. The weekend is going to be busy with the picnic and our annual sale. We’ll have to start that big order next week for the Teddy Roosevelt bear.”

  Flora, Harriet, and Joan fled. Lois Nichols hung back, her eyes brimming with tears, but my sister whispered something to her. The older woman slowly walked out, although she didn’t look happy. Even Rosie looked sad outside, waiting near the back porch steps. No one had stooped to scratch behind her ears or acknowledge her wagging tail. Cicadas thrummed loudly in the trees overhead, adding to the sense of misery. I held out a hand to my dog.

  “Poor thing. Nobody loves you? We do, baby.”

  I knew Rosie ate up the lovey-dovey stuff, so I piled it on. After she trotted inside and stretched out on the kitchen tile, I rubbed her belly; tongue lolling, her fuzzy paws begged for more whenever I pretended to stop. Maddie tiptoed around us, the empty scone plate in hand. Apparently she’d snitched the last one. I heard her sigh with pleasure at the last bite.

  Finally I stood and faced my sister. “Okay, spill. Did Dad really agree with Will about sending production overseas?”

  Maddie set the dirty plate in the dishwasher, delaying the inevitable until I repeated my question. “Okay, already! I didn’t actually talk to him. Mom texted me, that’s all. He did meet with Will during the show in New Jersey. It’s true our sales are down, a little. Not to a dire point, but probably enough to worry them. I’m sure Dad will explain when he calls.”

  “And when is that going to be?”

  “I don’t know, Sash. Maybe this will all blow over.”

  “Not if Will did sell our bear pattern to a rival.”

  Maddie massaged the bridge of her nose. “Uncle Ross didn’t say he had proof.”

  “That’s what it’ll take, I suppose.”

  I stood at the bay window, watching the parking lot. Everyone had left except for Will Taylor, who chatted with his wife in the middle of Theodore Lane. Or were they arguing, the way Carolyn waved her arms around? Then again, she always did that. Will pecked her cheek and headed to his car. Carolyn stalked to her store, clearly miffed.

  “I thought Uncle Ross would have a heart attack,” Maddie said, and checked the fridge. “How about we go to Ham Heaven for dinner and then a movie?”

  “Sounds good.” I flexed my shoulders, but the tension didn’t drain from my muscles one bit. “Could it be true about the bear pattern? I thought we kept that locked up. So how could Will Taylor have gotten a copy?”

  “No idea.”

  “I take it Mom didn’t say anything about when they’ll be home.” My sister shook her head, and that worried me. “I don’t trust what Will sa
id. Dad always wanted to keep our bears American made, so why would he change his mind? It doesn’t make sense.”

  “I haven’t gotten a straight answer from Dad on anything. You know how he gets when his mind is elsewhere.” Maddie plopped on a tall stool at the kitchen island and dragged the cat into her lap. She buried her face for a moment in Onyx’s silky fur. “Oh, Nyxie, Nyx. Tell her that Dad only trusts Sash when it comes to shop business.”

  “It’s not that he doesn’t trust you—”

  “He treats me like I’m ten years old.”

  I had to admit she was right. On the other hand, whenever Mom couldn’t attend fairs and trade shows, Dad dragged me along. I’d accompanied him to New York, Sacramento, Las Vegas, and other cities, living out of a battered suitcase, but grew weary of seeing the same vendors and a horde of strangers at every turn. But it did give me the foundation for understanding and managing the business, and how to deal with people. With one exception.

  “I wish Dad would fire Will. What can we do to make him quit?” I surprised myself by saying that thought out loud. Maddie laughed. “He’s so arrogant.”

  “Dad? Or Will Taylor?”

  “You know very well who I mean.”

  “I was teasing.” She set Onyx aside and rose to her feet. “One thing I thought of—Wendy Clark works at the Pretty in Pink bakery. I bet Mary Kate could get her to help with a fancier cookie for the picnic. She decorates those fancy ‘lace’ designs.”

  “I wonder if Vivian Grant would allow that,” I said. “She’s a stickler.”

  Mary Kate’s delicious scones, muffins, croissants, and breads had eaten into Pretty in Pink’s sales—no joke. Vivian’s bakery produced cakes of all kind, plus a variety of cupcakes and petit fours, packaging them in pink-and-white-striped boxes tied with pink satin ribbons. Their prices were far higher than any baked goods Garrett and Mary Kate Thompson offered at Fresh Grounds.

  “I’m starved.” Maddie said. “Nyx, time for your supper.”

  The cat meowed while my sister tore a package of wet food, dumped it into a plastic bowl, and set it mid-level on the climbing tower by the window. Onyx only lapped the gravy like water and left the food for later. That is, if Rosie didn’t somehow get to it while Maddie and I were gone.

  After donning a light sweater, I brushed my hair and tied it back into a ponytail before adding a baseball cap. Maddie grabbed a sweatshirt, tied it around her waist, and followed me outside. Glorious streaks of yellow, gold, orange, and red painted the sky above the horizon even though the sun wouldn’t set for another hour or two. My sister snapped a few photos with her cell.

  Carolyn Taylor locked the Holly Jolly Christmas shop and headed to her car in the corner lot. I waved back at her. She was a good neighbor, always directing customers to our shop and displaying an array of our bears tucked under her ornamented trees, on rocking chairs, or inside gift boxes. We returned the favor with a display of Santa Claus figurines holding teddy bears—with the Holly Jolly shop tags intact. If interested, customers could pop across the street to purchase copies.

  Carolyn’s small two-door sedan turned onto Kermit Street. I wondered if she knew smoke trailed from the tailpipe. At least my car didn’t burn oil. We followed, although Carolyn pulled into the parking lot beside Quinn’s Pub.

  “Maybe she needs a burger and beer, too. There’s Uncle Ross’s car.”

  “I hope Will Taylor doesn’t join her there.” Maddie sounded worried.

  “Yeah. I’d hate to hear about Will and Uncle Ross shooting off more fireworks.”

  We parked in the small lot behind Ham Heaven down the block. Owned by Deon Walsh’s parents, the small diner opened at six in the morning. They served breakfast and early lunch, then closed from two until five. From five until eight, they served light sandwiches and soups. We chose tall stools at the counter, even though a few tables were free. My sister ordered her usual, a crispy fish sandwich, while I chose the brisket. We always split an order of sweet potato fries piled in a huge plastic basket lined with paper, fresh, hot, and lightly salted.

  I loved this place, with its black-and-white-checkered tile floor, pink and turquoise 1950s-style interior, plus stuffed pink pigs everywhere—hanging from the light fixtures, mounted over the Ladies and Gents signs on the restrooms, resting in every corner or on the windowsills. The toys wore pink feather boas, poodle skirts, sunglasses, or held a skateboard, a football, even a baseball bat and glove. Kitschy, but cute.

  Mary Walsh carried our plates from the kitchen, curls bouncing, and dabbed at her damp face. “Whew, it’s smokin’ hot in there. I’m ready to crash for the night, and maybe even the weekend. We need a vacation!”

  “We do, darlin’,” Tyler called out from the back. “Let’s go!”

  Maddie and I grinned, digging into our food, knowing they always said that near the end of the week. Deon often urged them to get away from Silver Hollow for a week or two, but they never did. They sure loved to cook and were popular in the village.

  We wolfed our sandwiches down before Tyler flipped the Closed sign. I licked savory barbecue sauce from my fingers. “No one can beat your grub.”

  “Music to our ears,” he said. “Mary, you ready? Honey, I’m bushed to the max.”

  “Soon as I restock the fridge for the morning rush, Sugar Pie.”

  Ham Heaven was better known for their ham, of course, melt in your mouth, sweet in flavor, with a hint of smoky mesquite. Their breakfast omelets were to die for, especially the ham-spinach-feta-and-onion. And the tomato, bacon, and Swiss. Oh, and the asparagus and goat cheese. They baked their own sourdough bread, too. Buttery and crisped in the oven, their sandwiches were loaded with meat, dripping with sauce, and tasted delicious.

  Mary paused near us, arms loaded with clean bowls. “What’s this I heard about cutting jobs at the factory? Deon called me about ten minutes ago.”

  I slid off the stool with the bill. “No one is losing their job. I promise.”

  “Good. That boy of ours is a work in progress.” She heaved a deep sigh. “Finally got him focused on getting a decent education, although he skips class too much. The last thing Deon needs is to go job hunting.”

  “And he refuses to work for us.” Tyler relieved Mary of the bowls. “Neither will our girls. We’ll have to close down when we retire.”

  “You? Retire?” Mary gave him a playful slap. “Go on, sweetie, finish up. I need some wine!”

  “Show starts at eight fifteen,” my sister said. “Come on.”

  “Night, Mary.” I left a big tip, paid at the cash register, and followed Maddie out the door. “I hope you chose a film that isn’t too gory.”

  “Nah. You’ll love it.”

  We drove to the closest cinema near Ann Arbor via Baker Road. I loved seeing the tall green cornfields, oaks, and other trees, all lining the country roads that curved over hills past silos and farmhouses. We passed swayback decaying barns, feed and supply stores, and squat grain elevators; a few repair shops already had stacks of wood for the coming winter. Large and small vegetable stands were loaded with the baskets and bushels of beans, peas, cucumbers, sweet corn, peppers, and tomatoes.

  Southeastern Michigan in all its glory, with autumn on the doorstep, meant the trees’ foliage would swiftly change to brilliant hues of yellow, orange, and red once chillier weather arrived. Apples of all kinds, cider and donuts, mazes, and hayrides added to the fun. But summer had a tendency to linger through September with humidity and hot weather.

  Maddie parked in the lot. “How can I be hungry already? I’m dying for popcorn.”

  “Me, too.”

  Inside the busy cinema, I added a dash of salt over my small bag. Mads poured a river of butter over her bucket, shook it, and then pushed the button to soak it a second time. I’d also picked out a box of chocolate-covered raisins, more in line with my mood. If cinemas ever offered chocolate-covered popcorn, I’d be first in line.

  “Hey. Isn’t that Vivian Grant?”

  I poin
ted out the bakery owner’s tall, leggy figure, pale skin, frizzy black hair, plus the bright pink top and matching capris she wore. Her purse and sandals were also pink with loads of bling. Wendy Clark, petite and thin, her light brown hair cut and styled in short spikes, accompanied her boss. I nudged Maddie with a questioning glance.

  “I didn’t know they’d be here,” my sister whispered. “And I’m shocked Wendy’s hair isn’t purple and green. She’s always coloring it.”

  “By the way, I called Mary Kate. She said no problem about a fancier cookie.”

  “I hope she’s not charging us more.”

  “Nope. Out of the goodness of her heart, she’ll keep you happy.”

  Maddie stuck out her tongue. We followed the duo at a distance down the long hall and into the same theater. Vivian and Wendy sat near the front, while we found seats up the stairs at the back. The movie was based on a Marvel comic. I lost track of the plot, since my thoughts wandered despite the noisy action. Maybe I should have called Dad after the meeting ended. Then again, he might have sensed my panic. The last thing I wanted was for him to think Will was right, that our business needed drastic changes. Besides, I still wasn’t convinced. Even after seeing my sister’s sales report, I knew in my gut the Silver Bear Shop & Factory was solid.

  Summer sales might not be as strong as other years, but once school began other groups would sign up for tours. Despite Will’s displeasure, senior citizens loved seeing our factory and trooped in by the busload. They always bought bears as keepsakes or as presents. And Christmas shopping would also boost any sales figures. We could easily recover before Black Friday, when the online sales poured in. Both Maddie and I never had a free minute that entire weekend. Our own holiday shopping had to wait.

  “Hey. Did you fall asleep?”

  My arm throbbed from Maddie’s sharp elbow. “No. Got an extra napkin?”

  She handed me the last one while the credits rolled. “All right, what gives? Did you even watch the movie? You didn’t laugh at any of the funny parts.”