pie she’d left out to tempt the cub from its hiding spot. If it emerged, she’d corral it into the pantry and get some real sleep.
Her eyes drifted closed, her lids heavy. She wouldn’t fall asleep. Not a chance...
* * *
TWITTERING BIRDS ANNOUNCED the dawn. The scrape of tin proclaimed the bear had emerged for breakfast—aka her pie. Vivie leaped to her feet and, through the kitchen archway, saw Scooter lurch awake. Her dog scampered after the squealing cub, which fortunately raced for the pantry. She slammed the door shut just as Scooter bashed into its frame, unable to stop his momentum or his relentless barking.
“No, Scoots. Down.”
Vivie yanked on his collar, then jammed her way inside the pantry.
“I’m so sorry!”
She met the bear’s wide eyes and her heart squeezed as it scuttled backward. Its pink tongue appeared when it cried out, its head weaving, searching out another hiding spot. Luckily, most of her food was in industrial metal bins or cans. It wouldn’t get into too much trouble here.
For the first time, she had a good look at it and noticed something wrong with its jaw. The lower half seemed off-kilter, swelling making it bulge sideways. Was it injured? She had to get help for this button-eyed cutie.
“I’ll be right back. Umph!”
She banged into a hovering, woofing Scooter when she shimmied back through the pantry door. “Hush, boy. Outside.”
At her point and shove, his tail lowered and he headed through the porch door she opened. In a flash of ebony fur, Jinx flew through the entrance. She jumped onto the table and meowed loudly, her good yellow eye narrow and accusing. The other, blinded before she’d shown up on Vivie’s door, was milky white and half-closed.
“Off, Jinx. You know the rules!” Vivie’s shooing had no effect. She picked up her bristling kitty and set her beside her food bowl.
Jinx whipped away and presented her long tail. She sniffed at the empty trays disdainfully.
“So it’s like that, then,” Vivie sighed, pouring cat food and replenishing the water. At her ear scratch, Jinx jerked her head away.
“Jinx, I’m sorry you were stuck outside.” She grabbed a couple of cat treats and set them on the floor. “I couldn’t let you in because of—”
A scratch sounded on the pantry door and Jinx’s back arched, her tail puffing.
“Don’t even think about going near there,” Vivie warned. At Scooter’s bark, she let him in, then went for the phone. Despite the early hour, someone had to be on emergency call.
Vivie flopped on her vintage sofa and heard a squeak. Reaching behind a fringed pillow, she pulled out a hamburger chew toy, a smile beating the frown to her face. Scooter. Would her pets ever learn to stay off her furniture?
She grabbed the phone, dialed 911 and was assured of a conservation officer visit. She hung up and dropped her head on top of her sofa. Great. The Department of Environmental Conservation...a department she’d clashed with once before. They’d probably chuck the cub into the woods, whether coyotes skulked or not. Let nature take its course.
The heck with nature. This was about surviving.
She moved restlessly around her living room, debating if she and the cub should leave before the officer arrived. But where would she go? What would she do? No. She’d stand her ground as she’d taught herself to do.
Her eyes roamed the ceiling, noting that her fan needed dusting. And was that a cobweb in the far corner? Her gaze landed on the Steinway piano she’d inherited along with her great-aunt Nancy’s farmhouse. After a nomadic childhood with a marriage escape-artist mother, it was her first permanent home. The only place Vivie had stayed, growing up, where she’d felt safe.
Above the piano hung last year’s holiday picture: Santa with Scooter and Jinx. Scooter’s long tongue lapped the struggling man’s ear while Jinx batted his hat’s pom-pom. Classic. A true Harris family moment. If not for her aunt’s generosity, Vivie would still be in the Bronx, fighting through the anxiety that’d plagued her since her attack. Here in the Adirondacks, however, she’d found peace. Could breathe.
Vivie turned when a loud woof carried from the kitchen. Scooter. She padded across the faded Oriental carpet, through the entranceway and back into the kitchen. Across the room, Jinx leaped from the table and threw herself against the pantry door. Meanwhile Scooter dug deep grooves into the wood, barking and whining.
“Hey! Knock it off, you two!”
Jinx crashed down, then slunk under the table, her tail lashing. Scooter continued, unhearing, until Vivie tugged his collar. She tempted him away with a bone and eventually he subsided and splayed on the floor, chewing.
Her shoulders sagged. She’d been up for what, thirty minutes? And it was already a long morning.
In the quiet, a small bleat sounded. High and paper-thin. Her chest constricted. Did she dare open the door and risk Jinx snaking between her legs and scaring the cub to death? Or Scooter muscling through? She loved her pets but they were as protective of their home as she was. If she put them outside again, a chance she’d had to take earlier given Scooter’s unreliable bladder, would they cross paths with the mother bear? Possibly. She pushed back her hair and sighed. Nothing to do but wait for the officer.
The officer... She stiffened. Possibly a man. One who would arrive soon. And she was still wearing her sleep shirt...
The doorbell rang.
Darn.
She grabbed an apron and hurried to the door. Scooter scrambled after her, reading the familiar signs for “visitor” that roughly translated, for him, into “person I must scare to death.” She kind of wished he would.
She unlatched the door and hip checked a baying Scooter out of the way. Jinx’s collar bell rang as the cat bolted after them. It seemed the Harris family welcoming party was in full force this morning. She stopped her eye roll before opening the door...and was glad she did.
Wow.
A powerfully built man, well over six feet, stood on her front porch. His green uniform stretched across broad shoulders and a wide chest that tapered down to a lean waist. Matching pants went on forever, ending in black boots bigger than Jinx. Too bad newly single Maggie wasn’t here. Her weakness for men in uniform was legendary and vocalized often.
Reining in her wandering thoughts, Vivie finally glanced up.
A Stetson covered his hair, the brim throwing shadows that pooled beneath high cheekbones and a cleft chin.
He resembled an actor playing an officer. Not the real deal. Not the kind of man she’d meet wearing a faded nightshirt covered by a poultry-patterned apron. She flushed. It shouldn’t matter...especially given who he worked for. Who he was...
“You—” she breathed. Her fingers tightened on the door handle.
“Miss Harris. A pleasure.”
She gave herself a shake, determined not to be swayed by his deep voice and twinkling light green eyes. This was anything but a happy reunion, she reminded herself.
Scooter butted her leg and she stumbled forward, banging her head on the door. Smooth. Real smooth.
“May I come in?”
“Do I have a choice?”
His full lips curled at the edges. “Not if you’re harboring wildlife again.”
She drummed her fingernails on the molding, wishing she still had her skillet in hand. Infuriating man. The last time she’d seen him, he’d given her a citation for leaving out leftover fresh vegetables and fruits behind her diner during last year’s brutal winter.
“Some would call that protecting.” She cocked an eyebrow and made to shut the door...only