It’s Dough Contest
part 1

TaleSpin and its characters are property of Disney. All other characters are mine and cannot be used without permission. A big thanks goes out to Gidget for all of her wonderful suggestions. And I'd like to thank my sister for being so patient with me as well as for always laughing at the right places. :o)

Cape Suzette
June 1937
Monday Afternoon

A yellow Conwing L-16 seaplane, returning from a cargo run, soared between the opening in the massive cliffs surrounding the coastal city of Cape Suzette and splashed down for a landing in the sparkling blue harbor. The Sea Duck taxied to the dock. When its twin Superflight 100 engines stopped, the pilot, an overweight grey bear, stepped out onto the dock.

“Ah...it’s good to be back,” Baloo sighed, strolling towards the plain brown building at a leisurely pace. Before him stretched a free afternoon, devoid of anything associated with that dreaded four-letter word: work. He was going to get a little snack - make that a bigsnack - then sleep, sleep, sleep.

But first, he had to give the receipt of delivery to his boss. If he didn’t, she would lecture him for hours on end about responsibility. Nothing ruined a good snooze like Rebecca’s nagging.

Before entering Higher for Hire, Baloo cast an appreciative glance at the lovely summer day. The sky was so clear and the sun was so bright that he thought that nothing could possibly go wrong on a day like this.

Upon stepping inside, he greeted his boss, Rebecca Cunningham, with a cheerful, “Happy hi-hi, Beckers.”

“Hello, Baloo,” Rebecca, a petite brown bearess, said pleasantly.

Baloo tossed a crumpled receipt on her desk, barely noticing the man sitting across from her, then promptly headed for the kitchen. He was jerked backwards when Rebecca grabbed his arm.

She said sweetly, “Would you come here for a minute, Baloo?”

“Like I got a choice.” Baloo pried her small, yet strong fingers off his arm, then rubbed the sore spot.

“I’d like you to meet, Mr. Tannenbaum.” She turned to a middle-aged grey goat seated on a crate across the desk from her. He wore a suit a shade darker than his fur; his expression was as sour as if he had just eaten a lemon. “Mr. Tannenbaum, this is Baloo. Baloo, Mr. Tannenbaum.”

“Howdy,” Baloo said, flashing a friendly smile. He extended his hand, wondering why it was so important that he met this guy. Customarily, he didn’t deal personally with the clients, which was how he liked it.

Ignoring Baloo’s proffered hand, Mr. Tannenbaum ran a bony index finger over his clipboard. He jabbed his finger at a line halfway down. “Mm-hmm. Baloo. Male bear. Thirty-seven. Pilot. I see.” He squinted up at the big bear through his pince-nez.

Wondering what the goat ‘saw’, Baloo said tentatively, “The best pilot in the world, by my own estimation.”

“Uh-huh.” Mr. Tannenbaum made a brief notation on the clipboard. “Your wife was just telling me all about your air cargo business.”

“She’s the one to do it. Listen, I’d love to stay an’ chat, but I got me a date with a...” When Mr. Tannenbaum’s words finally registered, the pilot’s eyes nearly popped out of his head. “Mywhat?” He glared at her, wondering what crazy scheme she was up to now.

Rebecca shot Baloo a look that clearly said ‘play along’.

“Oh, right, uh, sure...my wife.” Baloo threw his boss a dirty look.

“Is there something wrong?” Mr. Tannenbaum asked, his sharp gaze flitting from Baloo to Rebecca.

“N-no. Of course not,” Rebecca stammered, smiling brightly.

Pen poised over the clipboard, Mr. Tannenbaum said, “Good. Let’s get on with it, shall we?”

“Get on with what?” Baloo asked, taking an instant dislike to this stuffed shirt. Of course, he didn’t dislike Mr. Tannenbaum half as much as he did Rebecca at that moment.

All thoughts of murdering his boss were driven from Baloo’s mind when Mr. Tannenbaum told them, “I’m going to be spending a week with you and your family, Mr. Cunningham.”

“A-aweek?” Baloo gasped.

As if he hadn’t heard the pilot, Mr. Tannenbaum continued, “I’ve already spent a week with the other family and have collected the necessary information. Perhaps you’ve heard of them? They own Lee’s Bakery.”

“Ain’t they the ones with the motto: ‘Buy lots of bread for little dough’?” Baloo ventured. “They got good rolls...an’ donuts...an’ their pastries ain’t half bad neither.”

“You are correct, Mr. Cunningham.”

“Please,please call me Baloo,” the big bear pleaded.

“And to think that we advertised for them,” Rebecca muttered sullenly under her breath. When she felt Mr. Tannenbaum’s piercing gaze on her, she amended, “I mean, let the best business win.”

Baloo leaned over to murmur in her ear, “What the in the Sam Hill is goin’ on here, Rebecca? Who is this...mmmph?” She had clamped a hand over his mouth.

“Would you look at the time?” Rebecca said, making a big show of checking her watch. “We have to go pick up the kids at school, right, Baloo?”

“Right an’ we’ll pick up your brains at the cleaners’ on the way.”

“You just make yourself at home, Mr. Tannenbaum, while we go pick up our two wonderful children. I’m sure they’ll be thrilledto hear that you’re staying with us.” She grabbed hold of Baloo’s shirt sleeve and dragged him outside.

“One big goosebump of excitement,” Baloo muttered morosely.

Rebecca got behind the wheel of her grey 1934 Chevrolette sedan while Baloo slid into the passenger seat.

He slammed the car door shut as she put started up the vehicle. “What in blue blazes is goin’ on here, lady? Is this another one of your cockamamie moneymakin’ schemes?”

“No,” Rebecca said calmly, turning the car onto the street. “And why do you think that this is a crazy scheme?”

“You came up with it. It’s gotta be crazy. Remember the ostrich feathers?”

“If you hadn’t sneezed, we would have been rich!”

“An’ usin’ the pig to hunt truffles.”

“Could I help it if the pygmies like pigs?”

“Not to mention that floatin’ gas station.”

“It’s not my fault that it exploded.”

“See,” Baloo laughed derisively. “All your ideas blow up in your face.”

“This one won’t,” Rebecca said decidedly. “You aren’t so perfect yourself, flyboy. What about all the treasure hunts you go on? Where’s the loot, Baloo? Did you spend it all on your twenty-seven sick aunts?”

“Well, I...” Baloo stuttered, wringing his hands nervously.

“And that trouble you caused by dragging me to that haunted castle of yours? Huh? I was almost roasted alive over an open fire!”

Baloo growled, “Speakin’ of trouble, what about all that hoo-hah youstarted last month when you rented the Duck to Martin Torque?”

“You promised never to bring that up again!” Tears pricked Rebecca’s eyes at the memory. After she turned the corner, she swiftly swiped her hand across her eyes.

“Sorry,” he murmured contritely. “All right, Becky. Give. Who the heck isthat guy? Why is he here? An’ why does he think we’re,” he shuddered, “married?”

“Mr. Tannenbaum is from the Chamber of Commerce. I entered us in the Cape Suzette Family Business of the Year contest where, if we win, we’ll get $100,000 and a year’s worth of free advertising in the magazine of our choice.”

“So?”

“So, the good news is that Higher for Hire is a finalist.”

“What’s the bad news, Becky?”

“It’s not exactly bad news,” she said, pulling the car to the curb in front of the Cape Suzette elementary school; she turned off the engine. They were now one in a long line of automobiles containing parents waiting for their children.

“C’mon, spit it out!”

Rebecca cringed. “We have to pretend to be a family for a week while Mr. Tannenbaum stays with us.”

“WHAT!” Furious, Baloo flung the door open and put one foot out. “You’ve had some stupid ideas before, but this one tops ‘em all, lady! No way am I goin’ through with this!”

Before he could get out, Rebecca detained him by snagging the back of his shirt. “Please, Baloo? I’ll...I’ll...” in a fit of desperation, she said, “split the prize money with you. Seventy-thirty.”

“Fifty-fifty,” Baloo shot back.

“Sixty-forty?”

“Fifty-fifty, or I go tell Mr. Whiskers that we ain’t even kissin’ cousins.”

“All right, Baloo,” Rebecca sighed in defeat. She released his shirt. “Fifty-fifty.”

Baloo rubbed the back of his neck, thinking of what he could buy with the money, namely, the Sea Duck. “Do you really think we can keep this char-aid up for an entire week?”

“Are you willing to try it for $50,000?”

He drew his feet into the car and shut the door. “I’ll try.”

“Good.” She shook his hand with a smile. “Nice to meet you, Mr. Cunningham.”

Baloo winced. “Never call me that again, Becky.” He was momentarily startled by someone knocking on the window. Looking out, he saw Molly, a six-year-old bearess, waving and smiling at him.

The cubs climbed into the backseat of the car.

“What are you two doing here?” Kit asked, putting his book bag on the seat. The twelve-year-old brown bear cub wondered what was going on; usually, he walked home from school.

Rebecca handed out copies of the entry essay to everyone. “Read it. Memorize it. This is who we are for the next week.”

Kit’s eyes flitted over the page. “What does this mean, Miz Cunningham?”

Turning in her seat to look at the cubs, Rebecca explained, “We’re finalists in the Cape Suzette Family Business of the Year contest. If we win, we get a lot of money.”

Baloo interjected quickly, “Which me an’ Becky are splittin’.”

“And Higher for Hire gets free advertising for a year. We can use all the advertising we can get.”

“Do you really think we can pull this off for an entire week?” Kit said skeptically. “It’s a lot of lies to remember.”

“Don’t think of it as lies, Kit. Think of it as a means to make money.”