Page 2 of Bear for the Holidays

“It sounds amazing,” Deanna said, but she couldn’t quite take her eyes off of Mrs. Shevchenko’s red eyes or her still-trembling lower lip. She came to a decision.

“Mrs. Shevchenko, your son lives just a couple hours out of town?”

“Well, yes. Straight on the highway, and then a little farther.”

“Sure, sure. How would you like it if I delivered the stew to him? I could go tonight, after work.”

Mrs. Shevchenko brightened up like sunlight on a winter’s day.

“Oh, would you? That would be so lovely. You know I only miss him so much.”

Deanna smiled, even if there was a bit of strain to it. She knew family could be complicated, but who in the world would hurt Mrs. Shevchenko’s feelings like this? Well, she knew who, and she was going to go give him a gallon of what sounded like awesome stew and a piece of her mind. Somewhere in the back of her head, she could hear her cousin Pearl urging her to calm down, she might not know the whole story, she shouldn’t just charge in as if she knew what was right for everyone.

Then she thought about the terrible sound Mrs. Shevchenko had been making when she came in, and honestly, to hell with that.

“I’ll make sure I tell him that,” she said. “Now, let’s get this in the fridge. I’ll take it out after my shift. Right now, I’m going to put up the holiday decorations and–”

She blinked as Mrs. Shevchenko packed the containers of stew into an old canvas bag and placed it firmly on Deanna’s shoulder. The older woman gave her a firm pat that felt a little more like a shove towards the door, smiling and nodding the whole while.

“No, you should get on the road, my dear! Thank you, thank you so much for bringing my son his stew. This will be such a burden off my heart, such a comfort in my old age.”

“Er, are you even sixty?”

“So kind of you, and of course you will still be on the clock if you do this. Do not worry about a thing, here, go get this loaded into your car. I will text you the address and the directions. Only go now, because I think the weather is going to turn.”

Slightly bemused, Deanna hauled the stew back to her car, nodding distractedly at Mr. Shevchenko, who was just entering the kitchen as she left. He raised a bushy eyebrow at her as she stepped back into the chilly day. Above her, the sky was lightening, but it was not yet properly dawn. Still it was as clear as crystal, another pleasant winter day in Colorado two weeks before Christmas, and she shrugged, dropping the stew into the passenger seat and buckling herself in. She was getting paid to do a delivery up the mountain, and she might get to chew out someone who was being thoughtless to one of the nicest ladies in town. That was a pretty good shift, she thought.

She turned on the radio and pulled out of the parking lot.

*

Back in the coffee shop, Mr. Shevchenko pulled croissants out of the oven and arranged them on a tray before bringing them to the front. Mrs. Shevchenko gave him a quick kiss on the shoulder as he passed by, counting change into the cash register.

“Was that really wise?” Mr. Shevchenko asked.

Mrs Shevchenko made a pleased growling, grumbling noise.

“She is perfect for him, don’t you think? I have always thought so, and now we will find out for sure.”

“You are a devious woman, my love.”

“Nothing devious about it! They will either be fine friends or they will fall in love. What could be simpler?”

*

Mrs. Shevchenko had said that her son–dammit, still hadn’t managed to get his name–was just two hours up the road, and that was true as far as the highway went. Then the instructions took her off through the mountains and up a series of increasingly narrow switchbacks where Deanna had to slow down until she was almost creeping up the incline.

“Okay, if this gets too much steeper, I may get a little more understanding of Junior’s reluctance to come down,” she said out loud.

She wasn’t exactly regretting her decision to come out. If she was being honest, she preferred some slightly tricky driving conditions to dealing with grumpy customers desperate for their caffeine. However, it did occur to her that she might have gone off a bit half-cocked, thinking the worst of Shevchenko Junior and climbing up the mountain to meet him for pistols at dawn.

Deanna liked to think of herself as forthright, but she had to admit that could spill over into impulsive and bossy.

It’s okay not to know everything!her cousin Pearl cried in her memory.It’s okay to call in professionals! You do not need to steal some dangerous man’s dog because you saw him hit the poor thing.

Whatever. She was still pretty proud of that, and last she’d heard the dog had been renamed Barky Barnes (what the heck) and was rehabilitated and living with a family in Longmont. And anyway, this wasn’t her snatching some guy’s dog and running for the hills. This was just delivering some stew and a very normal message ofgo see your parents.

She had just reached some level ground when a small pale shape darted in front of the car, and with a curse, she slammed on the brakes, breathing hard. She hadn’t felt anything hit the wheels or the bumper, thank goodness, but she got out anyway to scan the sides of the road. The moment she did so, there was a thin, strangled cry, and she blinked at the little cat by the side of the road, staring directly at her with big yellow eyes.

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