Then he asked me about Suzette. I told him how old she was, and pretty, and black hair. And I explained that she was the wife of one of the men who had been working on my truck and building a new little house for me. That was fine too, Danny, and perhaps I ought to have left it at that, but I did not, and that seemed like it might be a mistake for a while. I told him that her professional name was Yvonne. Which it was.

  He became very interested and asked about her store, so I told him where it was and that I had never gone in there to buy anything. He said that there was a Mr. Bunco who would want to hear about Yvonne. I said Mr. Bunco could come out and talk to me anytime and I would tell him all I could, and I told him where I live.

  After that I fixed dinner, which was macaroni-and-cheese and salad from my garden with canned salmon in it for me, and more salmon for Pusson. It was very good, too.

  Pusson had only just finished saying thank you when we heard a police car. I went outside because I thought I ought to show the policemen where the truck had been, and I was just in time to see Mr. Zoltan and Marmar running into the woods. Johnny was gone already. I know he can run much faster. Little Ivy was crying, so I went into their trailer and picked her up. I rocked her, and she quieted down right away. She is such a good baby, Danny. You would never believe how good she is.

  I told the lady who came with the policeman that I had been expecting Mr. Bunco. And she said she was Miz Bunco and that would have to do. But she gave me her card, and she was only fooling. Her name is really Sergeant Lois B. Anderson, unless it was someone else’s card. She asked about little Ivy, and I explained that I was taking care of her while Suzette (Yvonne) was away stealing my truck. She said she would tell D.C. and F.S. and they would take her off my hands. I do not know who F.S. is, Danny, but D.C. is the District of Columbia which means the president. He looks like a very nice man, I know. Still, Danny, he is very busy and may not know how to take care of children. So I said that I did not want little Ivy taken off my hands, that I like her and she likes me, which is the truth. Then Miz Anderson said we ought to go inside where I could sit down, and perhaps little Ivy’s diaper needed changing.

  Miz Anderson held her while I put water on for tea and we had a nice talk. She said the president would put little Ivy in a faster home, and that might not be the best thing for her. Some faster homes were nice and some not so nice, she said. I did not like the idea of little Ivy living in another trailer, and it seems to me that one that went fast would be worse than Mr. Zoltan’s, which does not move at all but is terribly crowded and smelly. So I said why not just let me keep her, she will be right here and perhaps Suzette will come back?

  Miz Anderson and I agreed that might be better, and Miz Anderson took her card and wrote call at once if Yvonne returns for baby on the back of it.

  So little Ivy is mine now, Danny. Another little stranger is what I said to Pusson, who is a little stranger himself and delighted. I have told Marmar that I have to keep her until Suzette (Yvonne) comes back for her. I do not think Marmar likes that very much, but Mr. Zoltan and Johnny are on my side.

  Hugs,

  Your cousin Ivy

  · · · ·

  Dear Cousin Danny:

  It has been days and days since I wrote last. I have been so busy! My little house is finished now, and some nice children came to see me today. Their names are Hank and Greta, isn’t that nice? They are twins, and their mother loves old movies. They are ever so cute, and we had a wonderful time together. They have promised to come back and see me again. I made them promise that before they left, Danny, and they did. I am so looking forward to it.

  So that is what I wanted to write you about. But I should have written before, because I have ever so much wonderful news. My little house is finished! Isn’t that nice? And little Ivy is still with me, which is even nicer. I will give my little stranger back to her mother, of course, if her mother (Suzette) ever comes back. I suppose I’ll have to, but I won’t like it.

  I call her the little stranger, and then I have to remind myself there are really three. That is little Ivy, Pusson, and the first little stranger ever, my new little house. But, Cousin Danny, there are five now, because I must include Hank and Greta, who are such sweet little strangers. I could just eat them up!

  After Ivy got settled down for her nap this morning, I went to my new little house (it has a name now and I will tell you in a minute) to see if the nice lady from the department store had brought my new furniture yet. And out in front of my new little house were the sweetest children you ever saw, little towheads about seven or eight. I said hello and they said hello, and I asked their names, and they wanted to know if my little house was made of gingerbread.

  I explained that there was a lot of gingerbread on it, because that is what you call the lovely old-fashioned woodwork Mr. Zoltan and Johnny made for me. Danny, I had to hold each of them up so they could feel it and see it was not the kind of gingerbread you eat! Can you imagine?

  After that we went inside, and I told them all about the nice big Navigator car you got for me from Mr. Cherigate, the building inspector. How hard it was to get him to stand up, and how I promised I would stop the bleeding and walk him out of my cute little Gingerbread House and never tell anyone what happened if he would give me his car for Mr. Zoltan. But I am not breaking my promise by talking about it to you in this letter, because you know already. He was so startled when you and that Hopkins girl joined us that he ran into the pantry and bumped his nose on a shelf trying to get out, remember? I still laugh when I think of it, but it was not really funny at all until I made it stop bleeding. Anyway Mr. Caminiti has come and fixed what he had put in wrong, and there are lights, ever so pretty when they shine out through all the trees.

  But I just told Hank and Greta that a nice man had given me a big black car for what I did, bigger than Mr. Zoltan’s truck had been. And I had given it to Mr. Zoltan and Johnny for building my house. It was too big for me anyway, and I have my own car. I do not think I could ever drive a big thing like that.

  Hank and Greta liked my new little house so much that I have decided to call it Gingerbread House. Now I will never forget them, and I will find somebody to paint a sign saying that and put it on my little house, too.

  But I was worried about little Ivy. I do not like to leave her alone for a long time, and the time was getting long. So I made Hank and Greta come back with me to this big house. I showed them little Ivy, and I showed them to little Ivy, too! She liked them and laughed and made all sorts of baby noises. Pusson told me her diaper needed changing, and Greta changed while Hank and I helped. After that, we baked gingerbread men and played with little Ivy, and played checkers with our gingerbread men, too, breaking off heads and things to make them fit on the squares. You could eat the cookies you captured, but if you did you could not use them to crown your kings. Hank ate all his, so Greta beat him. I did too. By that time it was getting dark, so I showed them how I could make fire fly out of Pusson’s fur.

  Then we went back to Gingerbread House, and Miz Macy had brought the furniture and set it up like she promised, just like magic. The children were amazed and ever so pleased. Hank wanted to know if they could come back on Halloween, and Greta said no, she will be busy then.

  So I said I hoped I would be very busy with little trick-or-treaters, but I would save special treats for them. Children never come, Danny, but I did not want Greta to feel badly. So perhaps she and Hank will come then. I hope so. Oh, I do! It has been ever so long since the children came here.

  Hugs,

  Your cousin Ivy

  P.S. Brenda called while I was looking for your envelope. Hank and Greta are hers! And they had come home very late, she said, full of stories about baking cookies with a witch in the woods. Sally Cusick gave her my number and told her I might know something since I lived out this way. Of course I said my goodness there are no witches out here.

  Only me.

  Build-A-Bear

  Sighing, Viola picked up the yellow schedule of shipboard activities and glanced at her watch. It was three thirty, still two and half hours till dinner.

  “Bermuda and the Bermuda Triangle” 2 Explorers Lounge. She had gone to that one yesterday, and they were into it already. Nothing had happened.

  “Line dancing for beginners” 10 Gym. She could line dance nicely already, thank you very much, and did not enjoy being laughed at. Surely there had to be something more interesting than looking at the Atlantic.

  “Talent Aboard—passengers display their musical skills.” 4 Seaview room. She shuddered.

  “Make your pet.” 9 Captain’s Club. What in the world… ?

  · · · ·

  “I’m sorry I’m late,” Viola told the smiling young woman with the laptop. “I didn’t even know there was a Captain’s Club, and the steward I got to help me find it only made things worse.”

  “No fret. I’m just glad somebody came. Bellatrix.” Rising, Bellatrix held out her hand. “I’m in the show. Did you see me last night?”

  “Oh, yes!” Viola lied womanfully. “That was you! I thought you were wonderful.” She accepted the hand, larger and harder than her own.

  “Thanks. But I do this, too, and I get paid by the head. I’ll have to scan your keycard.”

  Viola hesitated.

  “You won’t be charged. It’s included in the cruise. It’s just way I get paid.” Bellatrix smiled again. “We show folks always need more money.

  “Thank you.” She glanced at the card. “Viola. Sit down, Viola. First we need to talk. Why did you come?”

  Wondering when her card would be scanned but happy to sit, Viola said, “It sounded like fun, that’s all. A friend of mine went to something like this called Build-a-Bear, where they made teddy bears. She made her own bear. It’s always in the living room, and she tells everybody who’ll listen all about it. Oh, God! I’m just terrible!”

  “That’s good, Viola.” Bellatrix returned the key card. “I like terrible people. What’s your specialty?”

  “So I thought I might build a bigger bear than Marian. A prettier one. It’ll kill her.”

  “Great.” Bellatrix punched keys on her laptop. “It’s got to be a bear? You don’t want to build a cat or a horse or anything?”

  Viola shook her head. “A bear. Marian’s is brown, so I thought maybe pink.”

  “Got it. You said big. How big?”

  “About like this.” Viola held her hands apart. “This long. That should be twice the size of hers.”

  “Ninety centimeters.” Bellatrix punched more keys. “You want it to talk, don’t you?”

  “With one of those strings in back you pull? Yes, I’d like that.”

  “That will take a bit of doing. Wait a minute.”

  “I thought I’d have to sew, and—oh, I don’t know. Pick out the eyes. Make it.”

  Still punching keys, Bellatrix said, “You will pick out the eyes. We can do that next. What kind would you like?”

  “What color, you mean?”

  “Right. More pink?”

  Viola shook her head. “You wouldn’t be able to see them.”

  “Oh, you would if you looked closely. And she’d be able to see you, of course.”

  “A girl bear?”

  Bellatrix nodded. “That’s what I thought. Because of the pink.”

  “With a hair ribbon.”

  “If you want. That would be no trouble.”

  “I—I don’t.” Viola felt her cheeks grow hot. “I—I…”

  “You don’t have to explain,” Bellatrix told her.

  “I want to. I want to get it off my—my shoulders. I went on this cruise to meet someone.”

  “They have singles cruises, too. That might be better.”

  “I thought this was one.” For a moment, Viola was puzzled. “Anyway, here I am with you instead of line dancing, and Beverly and Marian both say that’s typical of me. I don’t meet men because I’m too feminine. I hate singles bars.”

  “So do I.”

  “And I went with Lucas for almost three years, but he played golf. I couldn’t learn, and to tell you the truth I didn’t want to. I didn’t think that would break us up, but it did. He met a girl with a three handicap and I was—was history. Am I going to cry?”

  Bellatrix studied her. “I don’t think so.”

  “That’s good. I… I’ve cried too much about Lucas already.”

  “How about a pink boy bear?”

  Mutely, Viola nodded.

  “Nice dark eyes, with just at touch of fire in them?” Bellatrix punched more keys. “We can put a little vest on him.”

  “A black vest,” Viola muttered, trying to get into the spirit of the thing.

  “Right, to go with his eyes. Now we get into the hard part. Character, and all that. You want him to need you, don’t you?”

  “Absolutely.” Viola almost smiled. “I want a warm bear who wants to be cuddled, not just one who sits in the living room and stares at people.”

  “Good. I’m with you on that. Brave?”

  “Very. He’s a bear after all.”

  “Right you are. Smart, too, I’ll bet.”

  “Very smart. Quiet, too, and thoughtful. A bear of few words.”

  “Strong?”

  “Very strong, too.” Viola was smiling now. “A regular grizzly.”

  More keys were punched. “Got it. If he’s going to be strong, he shouldn’t be too thin. But you want him cuddly, from what you said. We need a balance of characteristics. I’m good at that.”

  “His expression…?”

  “Exactly. Strong but vulnerable. Also you’ll want him to be soft when you hold him, without being too soft. Suppose somebody broke in? You’d want a pet who could protect you.”

  “You know,” Viola said, “you’re deeper into this than I am.”

  “Of course. You should see some of mine.” Bellatrix punched more keys. “There! That should do it. He’s pretty close to standard, really. Some deviations, but we can use a lot of the regular subroutines. What’s his name, by the way?”

  Viola considered. “Theodore.”

  “Theodore Bear?”

  “Exactly. When will I get to see him?”

  “He’ll be delivered to your cabin just as soon as he’s finished,” Bellatrix promised. “I’m making him look just a touch old-fashioned, okay? You strike me as a conservative sort of person, a bit old-fashioned yourself.”

  “I am,” Viola said, and knew it for the truth.

  · · · ·

  “Four-thirty,” she said to herself, as she left the Captain’s Club, “and the ship’s rolling a little. I hope I’m not too seasick for dinner.” It seemed odd that she had not noticed the roll while she was talking bears, but she left that unsaid.

  A different and somewhat more Spartan elevator carried her from Deck Nine to Deck Five, where—eventually—she found her cabin. A large pink teddy bear in a black vest lay upon her bed, propped by two small pillows.

  “Well, hello !” It did not seem possible. “Hello, Theodore!” Sitting on the bed, she picked up the pink bear. His expression, she decided, was indecipherable. From one angle he looked severe, from another he appeared to plead, from a third he smiled warmly; he was a bear of many moods.

  His paws felt soft—yet hard at the ends. Looking more closely she found lifelike claws, not sharp but long and curved. Playing with his face did little to alter his expressions, but led to the discovering of actual bearlike teeth behind his furry lips. “I’m taking you to dinner, Theodore. I want to show you to whoever I’m seated with today.”

  Her questing fingers found a ring on the pink bear’s back. She pulled it, but not too hard.

  “I’d like that,” the bear said distinctly; his voice was deepish with a squeaky “I,” and gruff overall.

  “Very apropos.” Viola patted the bear’s furry back below the ring. “Now then… You will have observed, Theodore my bear, that our cabin boasts a small porch, balcony, or outdoor viewing area, called by captain and crew a veranda. Besides a little table and a great big footstool, it includes two wicker chairs. The first is large, with a splayed back. Rather a peacock-tail back, actually. It’s clearly intended for the gentleman. That’s you.”

  The pink bear appeared to smile.

  “You, that is to say, when you are not on my lap—I fear your fur may quickly prove over-warm in the salubrious air prevailing on our veranda. I shall occupy the other chair, a lesser seat of the wing-back persuasion. At times you may occupy it with me—not that I’ve a great deal of lap to offer. May I have your opinion of the arrangement I suggest?”

  She pulled the string as before, and the bear said, “I’d like that.”

  Only one phrase. She felt a little disappointed. “Is that all you can say?”

  “Two,” the bear added equally distinctly. Or perhaps “too” or “to.”

  Violet sighed. “I hope that extra noise doesn’t mean you’re broken already.”

  The bear did not reply; and so, not knowing what else to do, she picked him up and carried him onto the veranda, plumping him down in the wide wicker chair before seating herself in the smaller wing-backed one.

  Beyond the Plexiglas-faced railing, a sea impossibly blue spread small swells to the horizon. Over it arched a sky equally blue. Someone had told Viola once that the sky was blue only because it was reflecting the blue of all the world’s oceans. Looking at that sea and that sky, she felt that it might almost be true. “Cities,” she thought, “have scraped away the sky with their skyscrapers. I wonder why they wanted to?”

  Five o’clock. The dining room would not open for dinner until six. She leaned back, and when her eyes chose to close themselves she let them.

  · · · ·

  She was awakened by a tickling nose. Dispatched to wipe the tickle away, her hand encountered something large and soft.