a swig of soda.

“This business may not be important to you, but Higher for Hire means something to me.”

Sensing an imminent scolding, Baloo tilted his cap over his eyes and slouched down in the chair. He wished that Rebecca would just leave him alone. It had been a hard day. “Yeah, it means work, work, work.”

“No!” To get Baloo’s attention, Rebecca snatched the cap from his head. He stared at her in amazement as she blurted out in a very sincere manner, “It means a home...and a life...and...and everything that’s important to me.”

Baloo grabbed the cap back. “Yeah, like M-O-N-Y, money.”

Rebecca frowned at the insinuation that money was all that mattered to her.

“Why, all the dough in the world wouldn’t be enough for you. But not me; if I had the bucks, I’d quit workin’, lay back, relax. Oh, baby.” He stuck a bendy straw in the bottle and swilled down half of the soda in a few gulps.

Rebecca let out a sardonic laugh. “Keep dreaming. You don’t even have enough to buy your plane back from me.”

Baloo smiled a secret smile. He knew exactly what he wanted to request from Khan to even the score. “Hey, you’re right, Becky, but I will have.” Tired of this conversation and just plain tired, he took off for his room to take a real snooze in a real bed.

The bearess stalked after Baloo, unwilling to let the subject drop. He’d still hadn’t produced a satisfactory explanation concerning his tardiness, let alone the refrigerator. Moreover, he hadn’t unloaded the crates of cinnamon from the plane. The truck was going to be here any minute to pick up the cargo. “Where do you think you’re going, mister? Baloo! I’m yelling at you, Baloo!”

They stomped past the cubs, who were playing with Molly’s doll over by the window.

“Is Mommy mad at Baloo?” Molly asked softly, crouching on the crate under the window. She hated it when her mother and Baloo fought, something that they did quite often.

Kit, sitting on the floor, leaned against the crate. He smiled, saying truthfully, “No. She really likes him, and he really likes her.”

Contrary to Kit’s statement, both adults continued to argue.

“Back off, I’m busy, lady!” Baloo growled from upstairs.

Rebecca retorted, “Busy goofing off! What is this...?”

Both cubs cringed when the bedroom door slammed; they flicked frightened eyes upstairs towards the noise.

“There’s just times when they like each other better than others,” Kit concluded.

Rebecca stomped down the stairs to her desk, fists balled, ranting with anger. “Oooo! That bear! Lazy, irresponsible...one of these days...why I ought to...”

To distract Molly from the argument, Kit suggested that they go outside and find out what Wildcat was up to.

The Next Afternoon

Baloo had to wait until he had completed his deliveries before he could slip over to Khan Towers. It wasn’t easy to evade Rebecca’s persistent, mosquito-like questions about why he was dressed up and where he was going and why he never told her anything. He breathed a sigh of relief when he was in the cab speeding towards downtown and Khan Towers. It was the tallest, most impressive skyscraper that loomed over all other skyscrapers in Cape Suzette, but everything associated with Shere Khan was impressive.

The big bear, sporting a brown corduroy jacket and an aquamarine tie in addition to his usual flight shirt, found himself ushered into Shere Khan’s penthouse office. Remembering his manners, he whipped off his cap. He stood just outside the elevator for a moment, gawking in awe at the surroundings. No matter how many times he’d been here it was still intimidating. Thick jungle growth, watered by fountains springing from the walls, lined both sides of the massive room. Actually, it was amazing that plants could grow there; it was dark, save for a little sunlight filtering in through a crack in the heavy maroon curtains of the wall-to-wall, ceiling-to-floor window at the far end of the room. The patch of sunlight spotlighted a large desk and chair. The chair’s tall back was turned to the room.

Baloo stepped quietly through the hushed office to the desk. The room was swathed in a sinister atmosphere of anticipation as if the man enthroned in that huge chair was a powerful predator waiting for precisely the right moment to pounce on its defenseless prey. Fumbling with his cap nervously before the desk, Baloo said timidly, “Um...hello?”

The chair swivelled around, and there was Khan. His composed, forbidding face was hidden in shadow. “Sit,” he ordered sharply in his cultured bass voice.

Baloo dropped obediently in a plush chair. The tall bear had to sit on the edge of the chair to look over the desktop, and he had to crane his head to look at Khan’s impassive face. Shere Khan had those chairs built low on purpose. They were a reminder of who ruled in that room.

“I expected you fifteen minutes ago.”

Lamely, Baloo explained, “I woulda been here sooner, but I had trouble with my tie.”

Looking over a million dollar contract, Khan murmured condescendingly, “How dreadfully uninteresting. Have you decided on what you would like to even the score?”

“I, uh, was kinda hopin’ ta buy back the Sea Duck,” Baloo anxiously fiddled his fingers on the desk, “if it isn’t too much trouble.”

“Granted.” Shere Khan snapped his fingers. Owen was instantly at his side with a briefcase full of money.

“Really?” Baloo exclaimed in amazement. “That’s all there is to it?”

“As I said, I always repay my debts. Now, if there’s nothing further...” That was Baloo’s cue to leave. Khan picked up the phone and dialed a number.

“Well...I don’t know,” Baloo began, fingering a bundle of bills. He was wondering how far he could take this whole arrangement. “I could use some gas. An’ maybe one of those little air fresheners?”

Owen made a notation on his notepad.

Slightly peeved because Baloo was taking up precious time, Khan acquiesced, “Yes, yes, is the score settled?”

“Well, you did say I could take all the time I needed.”

Hanging up the phone, the tiger sighed heavily in defeat. It was true. He, billionaire Shere Khan who made a habit of choosing his words carefully, had uttered that foolhardy phrase. That near brush with death must have rattled him more than he thought. He had to live up to his motto. “So I did,” he murmured finally.

Snatching up the briefcase, Baloo hurried out of the office, throwing over his shoulder, “Then I’ll be back tomorrow.”

As soon as the elevator doors closed behind him, Baloo opened the suitcase to look at the money. The Sea Duckwas his! And that was just the tip of the iceberg. “Hoo-hoo! Never thought Khan would be so dumb as to offer someone anythin’ he wants. Sometimes I think that guy isn’t playin’ with a full deck of marbles. Ha! Ha!”

Baloo wasn’t aware that Khan had microphones hidden in the elevators as well as other strategic places around his building. Hearing Baloo’s gloating, the businessman scowled, raking his claws on his desk. He, used to having the upper hand, despised being taken advantage of.

Higher for Hire

Whistling about his good fortune, Baloo stepped into Higher for Hire. He’d been waiting for his moment ever since Rebecca had purchased the business from him. He couldn’t wait to see the look on Rebecca’s face when he showed her that money. He couldn’t wait to get away from Higher for Hire and work and begin a life of ease. “Hiya, L’il Britches. Becky.”

Kit, who had been sweeping the floor, turned off the vacuum. He knew something was up right away. Baloo hardly ever got dressed up unless Miz Cunningham made him. Curiously, he wondered what was in the black briefcase that swung by Baloo’s side.

Baloo set the briefcase down on the desk in front of his boss.

“What’s this?” Rebecca asked. Opening the lid, she gasped.

Grinning with ill-concealed exultation, Baloo explained nonchalantly, “Oh, just fifty-some odd thousand dollars for the Sea Duck. Keep the change.”

“Wow! Where’d you get all the moolah, Papa Bear?” Kit asked. He picked up two stacks of bills.

“It was left to me by my favorite uncle...” Baloo’s eyes happened to alight on the vacuum. “Hoover. Happy Hoover.”

Rebecca looked up in surprise. “I didn’t know you had any rich relatives.” She didn’t know that he had any relatives. He had never mentioned any except his Uncle Moe and a countless number of made-up ‘sick’ aunts.

Kit began stacking the money up like a tower while Rebecca looked on. She grinned at the boy when the tower toppled.

Conjuring up a few fake tears, Baloo continued, “The two of us were very close. Uncle Huey Hartley meant everythin’ to me. Maybe even a million everythings.”

“I thought you said his name was Happy Hoover,” Kit interjected.

Rebecca shot a suspicious look at her pilot. Was this another one of Baloo’s screwball schemes?

“Uh...it was,” Baloo said quickly. “Huey Hartley was his nickname. Uncle Happy ‘Huey Hartley’ Hoover. But enough of the past.” Baloo knew that if he kept talking, he’d probably trip himself up. “Now that I’m an heiress, I’m gonna take the Duck an’ fly.” He did a little jig around the office, took a bundle of bills from Kit’s hands, tossed it in the briefcase, and shut its lid. Smiling, he pushed it towards Rebecca.

An infinitesimal tear streaked down Rebecca’s cheek. She rose from her chair. “You’re going to quit Higher for Hire?”

Kit, seeing the tear and hearing the catch in her voice, became concerned and a bit surprised. Leaving Higher for Hire hadn’t occurred to him.

Baloo settled on the desktop, insensible to Rebecca’s sadness. “Yep,” he answered happily, only thinking of himself. “I’m gonna do the things I’ve always dreamed of, like nothin’, an’ I’m gonna work at it every day. Whattaya say, Kit?”

Beaming, Kit threw himself in the big bear’s arms; then he caught Rebecca’s sad expression over Baloo’s shoulder,

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