“We have an uneasy truce. There is an unwritten rule that we only shift in our homes or out in the wild. On the tundra or out on the ice. The rest of the time we keep our human shapes.”
“Is it okay to ask questions?”
“Of course. Ask me or any of my brothers. It’s best not to ask Ma anything. She intends to head out today, so we shouldn’t run into her.”
“She’s scary.”
Kirk laughed and winked. “Like an evil witch.”
* * * * *
The town of Churchill nestled on the edge of Hudson Bay. Vehicles drove down the broad main street, slowing for pedestrians. A contrast to the hustle of Fort Lauderdale. The buildings—a hodgepodge of shapes and sizes—looked nondescript and blended with the terrain. No individuality or pops of color here. The rooftops and some parked vehicles bore a layer of fresh snow, although snowplows had already cleared the road leading into town.
Fiona sat cocooned between Kirk and Stig, excitement bubbling through her. She couldn’t wait to get outside to take photos.
“Oh, a café,” she said. “Do they do coffee?”
“They do,” Kirk said. “We can grab a coffee from Gypsy’s once we unload and are open for business.”
“Deal. I’m buying.” Her stomach gurgled. “I’m starving.”
“Heck, we didn’t feed you this morning,” Stig said, aghast. “You should’ve said something.”
Fiona shrugged, unconcerned. “We had coffee. Besides, we’ve had drama. We haven’t had time to eat.”
Stig spluttered while Kirk chortled.
“I’ve never heard Ma referred to as drama before.” Kirk’s eyes widened a fraction and his mouth twitched.
“Sheisa drama queen,” Stig muttered.
Kirk pulled up in front of a vacant shop. It didn’t take long to set out the boxes of produce on the plain wooden trestle tables inside. They whisked the lids off the boxes to display the apples and oranges, plus the potatoes, carrots, onions and leeks.
“You need a sign to attract customers,” Fiona said.
“We have an old blackboard.” Stig pointed at the empty board.
“I’ll do the sign. Where is the chalk?”
Kirk handed her a box of chalk, and she got busy, drawing vegetables on one side of the board and a list of the items available for sale. With the sign done, Kirk and Fiona left Stig in charge and went to buy coffee and pastries for three.
Gypsy’s Bakery was doing a brisk trade with both locals and tourists. The locals fell silent when they entered and placed their coats on the coatrack. Fiona wondered if she had a dirty face, but soon realized Kirk made them nervous.
Shrugging, she dragged him to the end of the line. “Which pastries should we get? I love donuts.”
The line moved briskly until they reached the elderly woman taking orders behind the counter. Strands of gray hair had come loose from her pony tail and the heat in the café had turned them frizzy.
Fiona studied the contents of the cabinet again and beamed with satisfaction. “Three large white coffees and three of the jam doughnuts please.”
The woman rang up her order and took her money.
“Do you need any fresh fruit or vegetables for your café?” she asked the woman. “We’re grabbing coffee before we open for business next door.”
“You have vegetables?” the woman demanded, lines digging in to her forehead. She leaned forward a fraction as she handed over Fiona’s change.
“Yes,” Fiona confirmed.
“Edward,” the elderly woman shouted.
