Page 54 of Have a Bear-y Little Christmas
Despite its size, it wasn’t austere or unwelcoming. And it wasn’t even intimidating, beyond the truly impressive display of carpentry skills. Between the soft rug under our feet, the fire cracking in the hearth, as well as a comfy couch and two recliners around a coffee table, it was quite cozy. And that wasn’t even taking into account the line of bookshelves across the other wall, complete with a reading nook.
And this was just the entry room. Absolutely wild!
We walked along a wide hallway with several doors dotted along it and openings that connected passages that led to who knew where. No wonder Remy had been so intent on giving me a tour. I could easily get turned around in here.
Thankfully, the path to wherever we were eating wasn’t that winding. We turned left, went a short distance down another hallway before turning left again into a massive room. It looked like a community center in one of those cozy farming games. Three huge dining tables that could seat at least twenty eachdominated the center. Every single inch of surface area was absolutelyteemingwith food.
It was an all-out assault on my senses. Thousands of scents inundated my nose while my eyes delighted in all the different dishes. Some were truly over the top, like a three-layer cake with a sleeping bear sculpture on top of it. Some looked downright delicious, like the entire quarter end of the table that was covered with seven different variations of deviled eggs. Smoked meats. Roasted meats. A whole turkey. Hams. Rolls. Stuffing. Several salads—some leafy, some involving mayo, some antipasto, and even a caprese salad that looked remarkably fresh and luscious for it being the dead of winter.
It was like I had walked into the middle of a feast scene in a fantasy book with fruits, gourds, and all sorts of meat available to indulge in. I dealt with quite a few books like that in my life, and they always made me hungry.
“Well, it seems like my time has finally come.”
“What was that?” Remy asked, leaning down a bit so he could hear me better over the ruckus. In addition to the most food I’d ever seen in my life, there were at least eighteen people all talking quite boisterously.
The space wasn’t nearly at full capacity—I was sure it could hold close to a hundred—but it was a lively din, that was for sure. There were sitting areas dotted all along the edges, some more formal with giant, overstuffed, velveteen couches, and some were fold-out tables and plastic chairs. Most of the adults and older folks sat in the softer, sturdier furniture and a lot of the kids, teenagers, and young adults in the more casual scene. It wasn’t like there wasn’t any room at the fancier seats—no, at least half of them were empty—it just seemed to be a natural way the group segregated themselves.
How interesting.
“I’m not entirely sure that I haven’t fainted, hit my head, and come up with the most delicious hallucination ever known to man,” I said, and even though I was struggling to come to terms with the absolute decadence in front of me, pride surged through me when Remy chuckled at my remark.
“Hallucination or not, we better eat while the getting is good. Once more people show up, it can get a little sparse in here.”
“Not that we’d ever let the table go empty!” Cuz said. “It’s just the favorites do be going fast.”
“Yeah, I can get that,” I said, following in Remy’s much longer footsteps as he strode toward the table.
But I was barely to the length with a plate in my hand when a middle-aged woman approached me, her blond hair piled atop her head in a meticulous, messy bun that was somehow both effortless and incredibly styled and her dark, dark eyes warm and welcoming.
“Why, hello there, sugar, and who might you be?”
“This is Jeannie,” Remy said quickly. “I brought her and her son to celebrate Christmas with us.”
“Oh,thisis your friend! I heard about you!”
“You did?” Had Remy needed to like… warn them all about me?
You stop that,I told my anxiety firmly. As a person who basically did a whole lot of thinking and examining for a living, it was easy for me to slip into my own head, but I wasnotabout to let that venom-tipped voice ruin my meal. Because I could already tell it would be one hell of a good one.
“Sure did! Ain’t often that my cousin ever asks for much. Last time you brought someone that wasn’t Zara was…”
“Bellamy,” Remy said with a fond grin. Although I was very much an interloper coming in onsomuch history between people who’d known each other possibly longer than I’dbeen alive, I found it interesting rather than alienating. “Our exchange student from France. Sophomore year of high school.”
“That’s right,” the woman said, letting out an almost musical trill before she looked at me with mischievous glee. “Very polite young man, but disappeared Christmas Eve for several hours until we found him doin’ a littlebèk-bèkwith De’vaugh.”
“Bèk-bèk?” I repeated, a touch confused.
“Kissin’, darlin’. Straight up mackin’ under some mistletoe!”
Remy shook his head. “How you be presentin’ that as juicy gossip decades later, Jahmoni?”
“Because it’sromantic!” the woman objected before her attention fully returned to me, her expression full of commiseration. “These men just don’t get it.”
I heaved the tiniest sigh of relief. She was telling me the story because she thought it was cute, not because she was horrified about two high-school boys kissing. Considering that my son had only narrowly survived his young childhood, I had way more things to worry about than other people’s sexuality.
“I getcha,” I said. “Nothing like young love.”
“I’mma have to argue with you at that!” Cuz said. “I think old love is where it’s at!”
