Page 23 of Daddy Bear Picnic

“I could ask my brother about having some of them in the B&B,” he continued. “We need something abstract, something like yours would be a breath of fresh air.”

“You think?” I asked. “Which ones did you see?”

“The ones in the dining room you’re using as a storage room,” he said. “It’s the one all in purple. Makes me think of a field of lilacs and I kinda wanted to run through it.”

In the reviews of my work, critics had said my art was evolving every time you looked at it. The same work, while still the same, would evolve into more intense feelings every time you came across it. I liked to think that was down to the bits of my soul I put into each piece, or how most of the art was created in little space. Art was sometimes a curse, creating it especially, but in little space, inhibitions were out of the window, all that mattered was having fun.

“I don’t want to sticker shock you, but some of those are worth a bit of money,” I told him. “But I also don’t want to sell them. I’d happily give you one.”

He shook his head, unsure whether to focus on me or the food in the frying pan. “No, no, I’m not going to let you.”

“I gift toyouthen,” I said. “It’s not like you’re going to try and flip it for cash, are you?”

Stepping away from the hob, his body in front of mine. He took both hand and placed them at my cheeks, holding me inplace. “Same thing for the house then, you’re not going to try and flip this place once I’ve helped you flip it, are you?”

I stared deep into his eyes. “Even if I wanted to, I couldn’t. I’ve made roots now.”

He pressed my cheeks, mushing my face and mouth into a pucker before kissing me. “Then we’ll call it square, and trust me, I saw how much your art sold for. A couple of nights back, I was too curious.”

“Then you also know that I’m a selective seller.” At least, I hoped that part of my artist profile had been on the internet.

“I’m beginning to understand you,” he said, giving me another kiss. “Do you want to get plates out for breakfast? Now that you’re awake. I did plan on surprising you with breakfast in bed.”

I was too curious for my own good. I should’ve stayed in bed, but if I did, I wouldn’t have seen Daddy Bear tiptoe around the hob as fat spit out of the pan. I was falling deep for him, and I was falling hard.

10. ELIJAH

I was glad Malcolm didn’t take my snooping negatively. I hadn’t intended on snooping while he was sleeping. I was looking for a frying pan that didn’t look like it had been used to hammer nails with the bottom. The current mess of boxes in the dining room was my first choice of place to look. Unfortunately, I had to make do with the old frying pan, and second-guess making breakfast since I could’ve taken him by the B&B. However, he had all the ingredients in, so I made it work.

Once we had breakfast together, he got dressed into some clean clothes, while I had to put last night’s clothes back on, but only for the walk back. We held hands the entire way as we watched the sun rising over the town.

My brother was waiting in the kitchen, tapping a foot impatiently and sighing. We had three guests now, including the couple who weren’t morning people. But he was a stickler for a schedule.

Malcolm helped which cut the time to get breakfast for guests in half almost. Malcolm did it with the promise of the coffee from the expensive machine, and much to my brother’s eyerolls, I used the expensive coffee ground.

Every thing in life seemed like it had such a weightless touch to it, almost like I could pick up a car, or jump to the moon if I had a trampoline in play. Malcolm made me feel that. I wanted to feel it all the time, forever, in fact.

After changing clothes, I caught the tail-end of a conversation in the kitchen between my brother and Malcolm. He was sighing, heavily.

“My brother might look like a tough lumberjack, but he’s sensitive,” he went on. “I don’t want to see him get hurt withwhatever this is. And I don’t know if you’re just using him to get what you want, and then leave once you’ve got it.”

I watched from the corner of the sliding hatch in the wall. Malcolm held his small keyring teddy, pressed to his chest. “Cross my heart, I don’t have any intentions of doing that to him. I told you, Pineberry is my forever town now.”

Appearing in the doorway, I gave them both a knowing glance. “We’re going to take the bird houses over to the community center. Unless you need me around. I’ll be back in thirty minutes, if anyone needs anything, I’m sure you’ll help them.”

Ezekiel nodded. “Of course, and however much of that you heard, I want you to know that I’m just looking out for you.”

I could only nod. My brother was protective, just as I would be about him. There wasn’t any malice behind it. Malcolm was full of smiles when we left the kitchen, which surprised me to see considering I thought he’d be full of doubt. I know I would be if I had someone from Malcolm’s family basically interrogate or intimidate me.

“Your brother is looking out for you,” he said. “I think it’s a good thing. And I don’t want to rush things either.”

“Well, speaking of rushing things, we should load the van. And by we, I mean, me, but I do need a little supervisor to oversee things.”

He saluted me. “I’m a little supervisor.”

Malcolm did a good job at watching me load the van and talk about what he was going to do with his bird house. It was nice just to listen to him ramble on about colors and birds he used to see that were small and colorful, almost like he wanted to appeal to those birds with the colors.

Once we got the van packed, we went to the community center where we were met by Leo Finch, dressed in his denim overalls and color-patch work t-shirt beneath it. He was one ofthe workers at the center and at the local library. This week, there was a blue streak in the front of his hair. Last week, I believe it was purple.

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