cardigan over a white turtleneck and purple slacks opened the door to let her flight crew in; her facial expression and demeanor mirrored her daughter’s. She checked her wristwatch. “Only a half an hour late today, Baloo. I should throw parties every day, then maybe you’ll be prompt more often.”

“Yep, ol’ Baloo can’t stand to be late for parties,” the big bear agreed.

Molly held up her arms; Baloo picked her up and tossed her into the air, inciting a squeal of joy from the little girl.

While Baloo played with Molly, Kit sidled into the room and handed the receipt of delivery to Rebecca. His reward was a warm smile directed solely at him, the kind of smile that Rebecca reserved for Kit and Molly, a smile that brightened the boy’s whole day. As a pirate treasured precious jewels, orphan Kit treasured each loving smile, each kind word, and each fond caress from his surrogate parents, Baloo and Rebecca.

Without missing a beat, Rebecca placed the receipt in her pocket and got right back into the skirmish with her pilot.

“Even if you’re late for everything else. Actually, your being on time is something to celebrate,” Rebecca retorted sarcastically, standing on tiptoe to reach the top of the doorframe, but coming up a little short. “It’s high time that you learned to be punctual.”

“Hey, I’m punctual...some of the time.” After rubbing noses with Molly, Baloo put her down.

“Meal times,” Rebecca rejoined facetiously with a little chuckle, prompting an indignant frown from the big bear. “I can’t quite reach this, Baloo. Could you...?” She held out the roll of red crepe paper.

To Rebecca’s surprise, Baloo placed his hands around her waist and lifted her so that she was level with the top of the door.

“High enough there, boss lady?” Baloo grinned up at her.

“Why, um...yes...um, thank you.” She didn’t know what flustered her more - his paws securely about her or the teasing, tender glint in his eyes. Rebecca artistically scalloped red streamers across the doorframe and tacked a big bow of red, white, and blue in the middle. “That’s it, Baloo.”

Baloo lowered her to the floor. “Call me if ya need another lift. I got me a date with a snack.”

“Don’t you dare touch that cake!” Rebecca said, following her pilot through the office to the kitchen. “That’s for tonight’s party.”

“Cake? Hmm-mmm! Don’t mind if I do,” Baloo saucily tossed over his shoulder even though he had no intention of eating a morsel of it. He just wanted to get the last word, and it was fun to egg his boss on. Rebecca was cute when she was in a temper.

The cubs looked at each other and shrugged. They’d become accustomed to this kind of bantering over the past year. A lot of the time, Baloo and Rebecca argued just for the sake of arguing. It was how they communicated, and, occasionally, how they flirted.

Kit glanced around the office. Except for last Christmas, it had never appeared so festive. Rebecca had gone all out on the decorations. Light blue crepe paper twisted around the banister leading upstairs. Crepe paper in lavender and yellow festooned Rebecca’s desk at the far end of the room. Streamers were also draped over the filing cabinets under the stairwell as well as every door and window, even over the doors of the bathroom and the bedroom that he shared with Baloo. Two bunches of colorful balloons were taped to the back of the squashy, maroon armchair in the corner. To top it all off, a large banner reading, ‘Happy Anniversary Higher for Hire’ hung from the upstairs landing over Rebecca’s desk.

From an empty upended crate thatserved as an end-table beside the patched armchair, Kit retrieved a model of the Sea Duck.

Molly brandished her favorite doll in the boy’s face. “Lucy wants a ride. Pleeeeeaaaase, Kit?”

“Sure thing, Short Stuff.”

A brown-haired, brown-eyed doll in a blue dress was placed on top of the disproportionally small aircraft. Kit zoomed the dolly around the room with Molly supplying the airplane noises.

“Watch out for air pirates, Captain Lucy!” Molly warned, chasing after Kit. “There’s lots of them ‘round here. Eeeeerrrrrrrrrrrr... There’s one! Oh, no! The pirate is shooting at you! Ack-ack-ack-ack! Roll! Roll!”

Baloo emerged from the kitchen with one donut in his mouth and one stuck on his left index finger like a ring

Rebecca trailed after the pilot, continuing to badger him. “And why do you have to eat those donuts, Baloo? What about the diet that you promised you would go on? All that extra weight isn’t good for you.”

“Where do ya get off tellin’ me what’s good for me?” Angrily, he ripped a big bite out of his donut.

“Because I care about...about...” flustered, she amended quickly, “about Higher for Hire. If we’re going to make a profit, the Sea Duck needs its pilot in top shape, and round is not an acceptable shape.”

“Always about the shaboozies, ain’t it, Becky?” Baloo guessed gruffly.

“No, Baloo,” Rebecca was truly taken aback at that statement. “You know that Higher for Hire means more to me than that. It means everything to me - a home and a life and a fam...and everything.” She decided to change the subject. “You stopped at Louie’s, didn’t you?”

“How’d ya know?”

With her forefinger, she traced the biggest red blob on his shirt. “Here’s the evidence, Flyboy. Your battalion of stains betray you.”

Baloo glanced down at his shirt. “We weren’t in any battles, Becky. That’s just ketchup.”

Placing a hand to her head as if she felt a headache coming on, Rebecca inferred, “That’s probably the reason why you were late. Good thing we didn’t have another delivery today, or you would have been in big trouble, Buster!”

“Nag, nag, nag...” Baloo murmured sullenly under his breath as he dropped into his favorite easy chair. He was becoming annoyed by her constant complaints about his personal habits. It had been a long, hard day. All he wanted to do was take a little snooze. “Listen, Perfect-a Rebecca, why doncha stop harpin’ on me an’ use yer perfect little angel wings ta fly yerself back to yer desk.” He swiftly tugged the bill of his cap down over his eyes.

But Rebecca wasn’t easily deterred. She leaned over the chair’s arm, nearly nose to nose with the big bear. To get his attention she snatched the cap from his head and held it behind her back. “Hamburgers, Baloo?”

“For yer information, Miz Know-It-All, it was cheeseburgers, not hamburgers.” Baloo flashed her an infuriating smug smirk before taking a big bite of donut.

“Oh, that’s such a difference!” Rebecca rolled her eyes and folded her arms across her chest. “I’m surprised you didn’t tell me that those stains were from pygmies bombarding you with giant tomatoes. You always tell me some dumb excuse to get out of trouble.”

“I do not always tell you some dumb excuse,” he protested in his mouth-full-of-donut voice. He grabbed his cap back and put it on with an umbrageous air.

“You do, too, Baloo. Let me name a few.” Rebecca counted off on her fingers, “Air pirates, hurricanes, blizzards, volcanoes, cannibals, air pirates again, typhoons, more air pirates, and the list goes on and on.”

“See, I’ve never told ya ‘bout bein’ attacked by pygmies with giant tomatoes. Shows how much you know, Becky.” In his most worldly manner, he stated, “Pygmies throw maraschino cherry bombs.”

“Maraschino cherry bombs! I don’t believe it!” Rebecca threw up her hands in exasperation.

Complacently, Baloo rejoined, “Ask Louie if ya don’t believe me. He was there, too.”

“You expect me to believe anything that hairy ape says?” Rebecca retorted dryly.

At that statement, Baloo pushed his cap up to glower at his boss. Nothing infuriated him more than a disparaging remark about one of his friends. “Stop puttin’ down my pals, Rebecca!” he growled, clenching and unclenching one of his massive fists.

Their squabble was teetering on the verge of evolving into a full-fledged, rip-roaring battle. Rebecca opened her mouth to say her next comeback when...

The telephone’s rang, much to the relief of the children, who had been watching the escalating tension from their perches on the stairs. When the adults had started really yelling at each other, their play had been forgotten. Molly tightly clung to one of Kit’s paws with both hands. Neither cub looked very happy.

Rebecca ran to answer it. “Higher for Hire. If you’re buying, we’re flying...Yes...Yes, he’s here.” She held the receiver out to Baloo. “It’s Shere Khan. He wants to speak to you Baloo,” she told him quietly, looking quite puzzled.

Baloo plunked his half-eaten donut on Rebecca’s neat desk. Frowning, Rebecca indignantly brushed crumbs off of her ledger.

“Hello? What’s up, Khanny?”

Everyone watched Baloo as he conversed on the telephone.

“Yuh-huh...Okay...Sure...Be right over...’Kay, bye.” Baloo hung up the receiver.

“What did he want, Papa Bear?” Kit inquired. Both he and Molly approached the adults.

“It must have been important,” Rebecca surmised. “Shere Khan doesn’t make it a habit of calling little people like us.”

Baloo popped the remainder of the donut into his mouth. With a spray of crumbs, he responded, “He wants ta see me soon as possible, meanin’ now.”

“Why?” Rebecca asked, putting a comforting arm around both cubs’ shoulders in case the news should be disturbing.

“Don’t know why, Becky. He didn’t go inta details. C’mon, Kit.” Bear and cub hurried outside to hail a taxi.

Shere Khan’s Office

Shere Khan, the wealthiest man in Usland, reposed in his high-backed chair in his opulent office in Khan Towers - the tallest skyscraper in Cape Suzette. The tall tiger businessman in a ludicrously expensive three-piece navy suit gazed apathetically out his ceiling-to-floor, wall-to-wall window, down on the city of Cape Suzette, aglow in the late afternoon sunshine. The glass reflected his grim expression. Today he had more on