Page 19 of Have a Bear-y Little Christmas
That was a relief.
“Your son has a good head on his shoulders,” I said, figuring some easygoing conversation would help assuage whatever other worries she might have.
“He really does.” Her smile was full of emotion. Yeah, I was pretty sure my theory was more plausible than ever. “I know everyone thinks their child is the best, but I gotta tell you, Max is pretty high up there.”
“What a coincidence, I also thinkmydaughters are pretty high up there.”
“Ah yes, of course. And your opinion is completely unbiased.”
“Naturally.”
“Naturally.”
We shared a pregnant pause, our faces completely deadpan. I was the one to crack first. I let out a laugh, and she joined in. A few people turned and looked at us, but I paid them no mind. It was the holiday season. Why not laugh and be merry?
When I saw the post for the kids’ night here, I never thought I’d end up making a friend. Because that was what I was doing, right? It was hard to tell since I hadn’t talked to any adult who wasn’t related to me, working for me, or involved in my daughters’ education for at least a year and a half.
Boy, that was pathetic, wasn’t it?
I tried not to think about it, which was much easier to do when Jeannie picked up the conversation.
“So, what do you do for a living?”
I told her, trying to sound matter-of-fact about it. People got a little weird whenever I mentioned that I was a landscaper, because either they’d been ripped off by someone in the past, or they wanted me to tell them how much it would cost to do XYZ on their property, or they wanted me to give them a cheaper quote than the one they had from someone else.
Blergh.
Jeannie, however, only shot me a concerned look. “Is your back all right with that? Mine aches just keeping up with Max, and you’ve got two girls.”
It was a simple statement, and yet it genuinely surprised me. Maybe it wouldn’t have if I was human and prone to the lower back aches that plagued their species, but all I needed to recover was a good night’s sleep and a lot of red meat.
“I get by. I get the impression it’s a lot different raising a boy than it is to raise girls.”
“Yes, it was really different raising Max.” She let out a tinkling laugh, and my body instantly responded to it. I stomped down on that feeling with both feet. It was too soon after Zara, much too soon. Besides, I’d come to terms with the fact that my story was concluded. My happily ever after was more of a happy-for-a-time. My job was to make sure my daughters would flourish on their own journeys.
“How about you?” I asked.
“Oh, I do freelance editing—mostly novels, some research papers, and the occasional article.”
“An editor? Really?” I was impressed. “I don’t ever think I’ve met an editor in real life.”
“Mostly because no one wants to admit to being an editor lest people ask them to edit their unpublished novel for free.”
I chuckled again. “Would it surprise you if I said I knew exactly what you mean?”
She raised one of her honey-blonde eyebrows. They were just dark enough so they weren’t invisible against her pale forehead. “People asking you for freebies and discounts?”
“You betcha.”
“Then I believe that you knowexactlywhat I mean.”
We probably could have stayed in that line and chatted forever, but to my surprise, we were already at the front. I ordered another two hot dogs for myself—one was definitely not enough to satiate a full-grown bear of any gender—a hot dog for Addy, and a burger and fries for Eva.
We were going to need a large tray, because I wasn’t done. I ordered Max’s pretzel, then glanced at Jeannie. “Do you think he’d want a side with that?” I asked.
Panic flashed over her face. Although she didn’t have the same light Southern accent that most of us had in the Carolinas, I was sure she had the Southern mannerisms, because her first instinct wasalwaysto turn down an offer. It was a bit silly if one thought too hard about it, but it was a culture thing.
“Oh no, you don’t have to.”
