“Or she ate some chocolate and had an allergic reaction. Gemma, did Poo-pa ever tell you about the time?—?”
“Marlow.” Pippa huffs an exhale as if her patience is shot. “I regret to inform you that we’re no longer in high school and your jokes aren’t funny.” Pippa narrows her eyes.
“Oh, come on, it’s just a harmless little tease.”
“Pippa may have a teddy bear, but I’m a Mama Bear and you are talking to my best friend,” Gemma grinds out.
“But we all know Poo-pa is hilarious and oh so romantic. Funny to see she’s here with the Romeo she wrote that sonnet to.”
“Marlow,” I growl, stepping in as my patience also runs thin.
Then Pippa adds, “Why don’t you take a turn or three on the teacups? Maybe that’ll set you to rights.” She grabs the Elvis bear and, with a little snort, stomps away.
“We’re going to find another table.” I gather up the food. Gemma and the kids follow.
After locating somewhere else to sit, it takes me a full three minutes of angry eating before I remember my manners. Four sets of eyes—two little and two big—stare at me.
I wipe my face with a napkin. “Sorry about that. I suppose I failed in table manners. Marlow is just so—” I grit my teeth, also remembering that I have a young audience.
But Pippa smiles wide. “I may have to nudge the evaluation standards a tiny bit, but,” she pinches her fingers together, “that was possibly the most chivalrous, kind, and forthright thing anyone has ever done for me. Marlow is a bully and you stood up to her...for me.” She gives Gemma a side hug. “You too.”
An amused smile replaces my glower.
“Thank you both,” Pippa says. “And the pizza is delicious.”
“I’m sorry I devoured it, but I am about ready for dessert.”
“Ooh, can we have some too?” Paige asks.
Gemma sighs. “Mama Bear is just about tapped out.”
“I have an idea. How about Mama Bear and Elvis Bear head home and we’ll treat the kids to dessert and some rides...but maybe not in that order,” Pippa says with a glance in my direction. “If that’s okay with Chase.”
“I happen to love teacups.”
“You do?” Pippa asks.
“Remember the heights thing? They’re safely on the ground. And I have three sisters and was always the fourth wheel to make things even.”
“No fair, you have three sisters? I only have one,” Parker says.
“Papa Bear and I are working on it,” Gemma murmurs.
“Speaking of Amos, where is he?”
“I’ve been Solo Bear while he’s been away on a business trip. Looks like the brewery will be up and running by next year at this time. He’ll be home tomorrow, thankfully. But the fair leaves town and I promised the cubs we’d visit.”
Chase smiles at the bear joke we’ve woven through dinner. “My grandparents used to call me Cub and when I started on the Bruisers, the name stuck. But now they call me the Lion.”
When we say our goodbyes, preparing to bring the kids on tour number two of the fair, I lean into Pippa, inhaling her rose scent, and say, “Pippop, I think you have a story or two to tellme.”
She looks up at me with her big brown eyes. “Where would I even begin?”
I’m not sure, but this does feel like a beginning.
Just then, a magic show starts on a nearby stage. I prop each of the girls on my shoulders so they can see—Paige on the left and Parker on the right.
Afterward, we wait in line for the teacups. I stand in as their human jungle gym and then alternate giving them piggyback rides while we scout out more kiddie rides.
