Free The False-Hearted Teddy by John J. Lamb Page A

and watched in fascination as she cleared the table and began carefully positioning the bears and tigers, pausing every so often to step back and assess the effect.
    This time, Cindy Sundae took center stage. She was a pink plush bear dressed in a costume of two big scoops of fabric strawberry ice cream inside a golden brown quilted waffle cone, with a dollop of satin whipped cream and an artificial cherry on her head. As Ash worked, she was briefly interrupted a couple of times by passing artisans who stopped to thank and commend us for our lifesaving efforts.
    When we were alone again, I said, “And how do you think Donna reacted when she heard the news?”
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    “She was probably horrified.”
    “Or kicking herself because she missed the incident.
    That was big league-quality hate and it wasn’t just caused by a stolen teddy bear design.”
    Ash looked up from straightening the French blue bow on a brown bear that I’d made from faux fur. “People say things when they’re upset that they don’t mean.”
    “That’s true, but can you indulge me for a moment?”
    “Sure. How?”
    “If you can spare me for a minute or two, I think I’d like to limp on over to her booth and scope her out . . .
    just to satisfy my unsavory curiosity.”
    I grabbed the expo program from the top of the upside-down crate that constituted our clerical workspace and opened the booklet to the middle page where the event map was located. Donna was assigned to slot fifty-three, which was two rows over and near the back of the room.
    “But I thought you’d decided this wasn’t any of your business.” Teasingly feigning surprise, Ash raised her hand to her mouth and her eyes widened.
    “Oh, as if you aren’t the least bit interested either.”
    She came over to kiss me on the forehead. “Of course, I’m interested. Just stay clear of that judge.”
    “I promise I’ll be back in a couple of minutes with my virtue intact.”
    “It’s not your virtue I’m worried about.”
    I walked to the end of our aisle, checking out the amazing collections of bears, and made a right turn. Two rows later, I turned right again and immediately saw Donna’s booth, which was identified by a superbly hand-painted sign with metallic blue Gothic lettering that read, the ivanhoe collection by donna jordan. The single table was covered with bears cleverly arranged as if they were at a jousting tournament. All the classic book’s characters were there: Sir Wilfred of Ivanhoe, Wamba the jester, Lady 62
    John J. Lamb
    Rowena, Sir Cedric, Isaac and his daughter Rebecca, and King Richard the Lion Heart. Everyone was present but Donna, who was nowhere to be seen.
    Glancing at a woman in the adjoining booth, I asked,
    “Excuse me, but have you seen Donna?”
    The woman was tall, blond, and utterly focused on posing a brown German merino wool teddy bear boy wearing blue denim shorts, a shirt, and boots. Beside the bear was a framed eight-by-ten color photo of an exquisite shadow box diorama display of the scene from Win-nie the Pooh , where the characters try to free Pooh, who’s stuck in Rabbit’s door. The tableau seemed vaguely fa-miliar and I suddenly realized where I’d seen it before. It had been featured a few months ago in one of the teddy bear magazines we subscribe to. The display had won first prize in one of the judging categories at last year’s Teddy Bear Artist Invitational, one of the most prestigious shows in North America. However, I couldn’t remember the artisan’s name.
    At last, the woman looked up from her work and said,
    “Not since that scene at breakfast, although I don’t blame her for being furious if Jennifer actually did steal her designs. I had it happen to me once, so I know how it feels.
    You and your wife are the ones who tried to help Jennifer, aren’t you?”
    “Yeah. Hi, I’m Bradley Lyon and my wife is Ashleigh.” I extended my hand.
    “It’s nice to meet you. I’m Dolores Austin.