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Then the entrance flaps opened.
Brutus walked in.
Oh no!
Sage looked around frantically for Cal. All fourteen hundred pounds of him moved calmly through the doorway, enormous head swinging gently, breath clouding in the warm air. Perched between his ears — somehow staying on despite all laws of physics — was a bright red Santa hat, listing slightly to one side.
The entire pavilion went dead quiet. Even the band stopped. Faces around her shifted from confusion to disbelief to outright shock.
Someone near the entrance whispered, “Is that a—”
“Bear,” another voice confirmed.
“Where? Is he with Sage?”
“No! I mean Bear Bear. Like a grizzly.”
Brutus wasn’t interested in the crowd, the band, or the food. He swung his massive head once, twice, scanning… then locked onto her. With the unhurried, deliberate gait of an animal that knew nothing would stop him, he headed straight for her.
“BRUTUS—”
He reached her like a gentle freight train. His huge head connected with her midsection and pushed her back two full steps before she got her arms around his thick neck and held on tight. He made that deep, rumbling sound — half groan, half contented sigh — and pressed into her like he never wanted to leave.
“Oh my God… I missed you too,” Sage laughed, face buried in his thick fur. Her arms weren’t nearly long enough to hug him properly, and she didn’t care one bit. “You big ridiculous goof… is that a Santa hat? Did he really—”
She looked over at Cal, who was grinning like an idiot.
“YOU PUT A SANTA HAT ON HIM—”
The pavilion shifted from stunned silence into something more chaotic. Some people looked terrified, others shocked, and a surprising number started laughing. The band, after a quick huddle, launched back into their set with renewed energy, clearly deciding this was a story they’d be telling for years.
Mary Sue appeared like a force of nature.
She looked at Brutus. Brutus looked back at her with his large, liquid eyes.
“No,” Mary Sue said firmly.
Brutus held her gaze.
“Absolutely not. This is a party, not a barn. Out.”
Brutus let out a heavy, put-upon sigh — a genuine, dramatic exhalation — and slowly lifted his head from Sage’s arms.
“Mama—” Sage started.
“Don’t you Mama me. He’s got eight inches on the tablecloths and I just saw him eyeing the charcuterie.”
“He just wanted to see me—”
“He can see you from the yard—”
“MAMA!”
“Out,” Mary Sue commanded, pointing toward the entrance with the unshakable authority of a woman who expected to be obeyed.
Brutus went. Slowly. With maximum dignity and minimum speed. He paused once at the entrance to look back at Sage with an expression that clearly said, You see what I have to put up with.
Sage was already moving. She snatched two filet mignons from a passing tray (the server didn’t even blink) and ran after him.
