Page 5 of Cinnamon Baker Bear

Yep, Gabe’s bear began. That man needs a hug more than a catch-up.

Are you volunteering? Gabe asked his bear.

Just let me at him. You know I give the best bear hugs, his bear said happily.

Joel might need a bear hug, but I don’t think the bakery can take it, Gabe replied.

Pity, his bear said. That means you’ll have to do the hugging.

Or I can just give Joel more pastries, Gabe answered.

That’ll work too, his bear said and settled down, ready for a nap.

“You’ll figure it out,” Gabe said. “And you know we’re here to help if you need it.”

“Oh, I’m going to need it,” Joel said. “All I need to do is figure out what I need help with.”

Joel’s mom, Teresa, had been in charge of the Fall Festival celebrations for as long as Gabe could remember. But her sister had taken a fall and was recovering in the hospital a hundred miles away. With six cats and nobody close enough to take care of them, Teresa had gone without hesitation, handing over the festival to Joel, confident he had everything under control.

Joel was the only one who seemed unconvinced.

Gabe didn’t like seeing Joel like this. “How is your aunt?”

“Doing better. Mom says she’ll probably go home in a few days.” Joel tapped the papers together. “But she’s not going to be able to look after herself for a few weeks, so Mom is staying there until she’s mobile again.”

“And how does your mom feel about that?” Evan asked.

“She says she’s okay with it. But I know the festival is on her mind.” Joel gave a tired laugh. “She calls me every time she remembers something to add to the list. Then five minutes later she remembers something else and calls me again.”

“So that’s why the pile of papers is so big?” Gabe asked, nodding toward the overflowing stack.

Joel patted it with a rueful smile. “Yep. Every time Mom calls, another page gets added. I’ve got lists for the parade route, the pumpkin contest, the apple bobbing station… Soon I’m going to need to make a list of all the lists.”

“That’s good, right?” Evan asked before Gabe had a chance. “All you have to do is organize everything she tells you.”

“And you still have a few weeks to do that,” Gabe added.

“Maybe.” Joel brushed crumbs away from the page in front of him. “But I’m beginning to realize just how much stuff my mom apparently keeps in her head.”

Nate shifted his chair closer and glanced down at the papers. “I guess she’s been doing it so long she doesn’t need lists.”

“Exactly.” Joel lifted both hands and let them fall again. “That’s half the problem. She knows who does what every year, who needs reminding, and who’ll show up whether you remind them or not. She knows how much food we need, where the extra tables come from, who has the extension cords, and which kids are going to enter every contest even if they’re too old for half of them.”

Wes smiled into his coffee. “That sounds just like Teresa.”

“Yes.” For the first time that morning, some of the frustration left Joel’s face. He looked down at the papers, one thumb resting against the edge of the folder. “And I want to get it right.”

Gabe came around to take the empty chair beside Joel. “You’ll get it done. I know you.”

Joel gave him a tired look. “I know I’ll get it done. But will I get it right?”

Now I see his problem, Gabe’s bear said. He doesn’t want to let his mom down.

Gabe let that sink in for a moment. Joel could handle the work. Nobody at the table doubted that. But that was not the issue here. “Are you worried about the festival, or are you worried because your mom isn’t here doing it?”

Joel didn’t answer right away, and the others let the silence linger until finally he sighed. “Both.”

Gabe understood. Teresa had made the festival look easy for so many years that Joel was trying to reproduce not only the result, but everything she normally carried in her head along the way.