Page 26 of Have a Bear-y Little Christmas
We said our goodbyes, and I helped Max to the car. The last of his energy was draining rapidly. I put him in his booster seat, buckled him up, then draped a blanket over him before getting in behind the wheel.
As I drove away, I couldn’t help but wonder if I was setting us up for more heartbreak. Maybe, just this once, we wouldn’t get the short end of the stick.
Still, it felt a little dangerous to have hope.
Chapter 8
Remington
Politics and Ponderings
“I dare say,Lady Eva, I’m afraid I’ve run out of crumpets,” I said, voice pitched a little higher as I lifted the micro-plate set in front of me.
“Goodness me. What atravesty,” Eva declared, pressing the back of her hand against her forehead. “I have failed as a host.”
“No, you’re an excellent host,” Miss Belle Savannah Caroline Scarlett Genevieve the Third insisted in amuchhigher tone than mine and definitely wasn’t just my youngest daughter pretending to speak for her. “The best in all the land!”
How the doll spoke with no head, I wasn’t sure. But every time I broached the subject of possibly fixing it or getting a new one, Eva would insist that Miss Belle Savannah Caroline Scarlett Genevieve the Third (always said fully and never abbreviated) was just fine and that the doll preferred being that way.
Who was I to argue? If there was one thing I had learned in the past four years since Eva became more verbal, it was thather toys lived a complex and ever-changing life full of political intrigue and scandal.
“You know,” I reminded gently, looking to the empty doll chair to my right. “Mr. Tropolopicus also loved your hosting and your scones.”
Eva let out a long-suffering sigh. “If only he hadn’t been exposed for tax evasion. He’d probably still be king of all the stuffies.”
I looked to the worn giraffe toy, whose head peeked out from the closet he’d been banished to. “Alas,” I agreed. “He always was a gracious ruler.”
“Indeed.”
I didn’t know where my daughter had picked up her fancy-time talk, but it was pretty cute to hear her try to put on an old-timey British affectation along with her light dusting of Southern and Creole accents. While she wasn’t the biggest talker, she came alive whenever she put on a character.
“At least he’s not residing in the death pit.”
Eva nodded in a way that reminded me so much of her sister, who was lounging on the couch, reading an age-appropriate retelling of Scheherazade. Although they were two very different souls, it always tickled me when their mannerisms lined up.
“The death pit is eternal.”
I glanced over to the laundry basket in question, which was full of citizens of Toyland that had somehow violated the law or otherwise run amok of whatever social conventions my daughter decided existed that day.
“Now, about those crumpets…?”
“Oh my lanta! How could I have forgotten?”
She stood and went over to the kitchen playset I’d gotten Addy when she was younger. While my eldest was never super interested in it, Eva loved it. She still liked to incorporate it inher playtime even though she was supposed to be “too old” for it now.
I didn’t pay attention to that “too old and too young” bullshit once kids were past the phase of putting choking hazards into their mouths. If Eva wanted to have tea parties with water and the Oreos she had in the oven of her playset, then that was fine by me. And if Addy wanted to read books that were meant for eighth graders, why stop her? As long as nothing was actively harmful, I wasn’t going to prevent my kids from getting joy out of the things that brought them said joy.
As she returned with my sweet treat, my phone rang on the floor beside me. Normally it was always on silent, but I had a few emergency numbers that always came through at full volume.
It was my sister-in-law, Ana. Fearing the worst, I answered quickly. “Hello?”
“Hey there, Remy! Long time no talk!”
Her tone told me the call wasn’t dire, which was a relief.
“Yeah, it’s been a while, is everything okay?”
“Yessirridee, everything’s copacetic, but I just wanted to touch base with you. You got a minute?”
