A few words of explanation:
Shirley requested a moo-fic for
herself and 3-year-old Ana. But, I missed the part where she said how she and
Ana knew each other. I'm sure she said in a post or other onlist but I missed
it. Sorries. (Parenthetically, we now know she is her grandchild.)
So, I've made them mother and
daughter - just because.
I'm using the name Shirley for
the mother. Shir-lee-shore, if you object to that name being used on my site
(the final resting place of all moo-fic unless the recipient specifies they
don't want it so) speak up, onlist or off.
Ana, at three, is too young to
know how she feels about these things, so I'm using a composite of Shirley and
Ana: Shayna. In Yiddish it means pretty (used in the feminine). A similar word
in a similar language is the German 'schoen'.
And, out of respect to Kerri Ann
I haven't paired Turnbull with anyone.
Inspector Thatcher held a
briefing for her two constables every morning. Promptly at 8:30 am they stood
before her while she recapped their duties for the day, pointing out anything
in particular she felt was worth pointing out. Pointless, to Fraser's way of
thinking. Duty rosters were prepared two weeks in advance and there was rarely
anything new that needed to be imparted. In his infrequently cynical frames of
mind, Fraser speculated that the woman just enjoyed having her two men under
her command standing before helpless, immobile and looking good for her
enjoyment.
The first time Fraser had
thought this he had chided himself for vanity, but only the first time. The second, third and all subsequent times
his innate honesty won out over his also innate modesty and he allowed that
Inspector Thatcher did think he was cute.
Well, what was new about that?
All his life he had endured being cute. In his early childhood his cheeks were
constantly raw from the relentless pinching of old people. The older the people, the harder they could
pinch.
On this Monday morning, Fraser
and Turnbull stood shoulder to shoulder, towering over their seated commander
who made sure during these interviews that she remained seated, because if she
were to stand up they would still tower over her and psychological effect of
that would be totally wrong.
She recapped the day's schedule,
unnecessarily since it was the same as yesterday�s schedule, and then invited
her constables to ask any questions or make any comments they might wish to
make.
To her and Fraser's surprise
Turnbull spoke up. (He spoke softly and
timidly, as he usually did, mitigating what might have been their astonishment
or shock to mere surprise, although that surprise was not inconsiderable.)
"Sir, I'd like permission for my
niece to remain with me at the consulate during work hours next week. My sister
is coming in to Chicago and she'll be busy at conferences every day during
working hours. She hasn't got anyone to take care of her daughter back in
Winnipeg so she has to bring her along. I was hoping I could take care of her
without losing work time, Sir. I'm not on guard duty next week. She could stay
with me at my desk."
"How old is your niece,
Constable?"
"Shayna is three, Sir."
"Then shouldn't your sister get
a babysitter for her?"
"Oh no, Sir. Shayna's never had
a babysitter. Our family doesn't believe in them."
"Turnbull, that's nonsense.
Babysitters are everywhere. It's foolish to say they don't exist."
Turnbull sighed and looked
briefly to Fraser for assistance. Fraser only shrugged. Then both men caught
the look of disapproval from Thatcher for daring to exchange looks and shrugs
while at attention. They stiffened to more rigid postures immediately.
"Sir, my sister and I are aware
there are such things as babysitters. If I may clarify, that�s not the point.
The point is that my parents and my sister never considered babysitters to be
desirable for children. I never had one. I always stayed with relatives or went
where my parents went."
I never had a babysitter either,
mused Fraser, I stayed with Mom when I was little because there was no place
for her to go in the bush anyway, and after she died I stayed with Grandma and
Grandpa because they never went anywhere that I couldn't go too.
The men saw their commander's
eyes soften. "That's admirable, Constable. I was left with so many nannies when
I was little. I missed . . . never mind what I missed. Your niece can stay at
the consulate while you are working. Fraser and I can help entertain her, can't we Fraser?"
Thus appealed to, what could
Fraser say but, 'Yes, Sir.'
Turnbull's niece, Shayna, was as
cute as only a three-year-old girl can be.
Her looks, her childish lisp, her ingenuous manner all added up to total
affect of being in every way adorable. Her very name was appropriate: Shayna,
meaning 'pretty'.
With the Inspector's blessing,
little Shayna spent the first Monday morning skipping happily from office to
office in the consulate, stopping to chatter prettily with whomever she saw,
poking her chubby fingers at their computers and re-arranging the items on
their desks.
When she got to Fraser's domain,
she found him to be a kindred spirit and lingered there for over an hour until
lunch time. (Perhaps something in her
little brain responded on a subconscious level to another person who was
immeasurably cute.)
When noon came around, Fraser
saved and closed the files he was working on, backed up, encrypted and locked
his terminal, then took the girl's tiny hand and led her back to Turnbull's
office.
"Here's our little guest,"
Fraser announced, "Say, Turnbull, why don't we all go out for lunch together. I know an outdoor establishment where the fecal matter count is well within
acceptable tolerance."
Thus it came to pass that a
curious trio was seen making its way down the street: two tall Mounties in red
serge - one very cute and one reasonably handsome. Between them a little girl
held a Mountie hand in each of her own. And the girl was somewhat cuter than
one of the Mounties and very much cuter than the other.
For Fraser, the walk down the
street was a treat. He was in the company of someone cuter than himself. It was
the child, not he, that drew approving looks from passersby. A very pleasant
novelty. Fraser found himself
accordingly uttering novel pleasantries. He even caught himself tempted to
pinch her little cheeks. All through that delightful lunchtime he thought about
ways to keep the child close to him so as to absorb and deflect everyone's
attention, like a tiny, cute lightning rod.
They acquired hot dogs and soft
drinks at an outdoor stand and then settled with them on bench in a small park
across the street. Rather, the two Mounties settled while Shayna first stuffed
a hotdog into her pretty, sweet little mouth and then toddled off to play on
the park's swing set. Heads turned as she ran on her adorable little feet, her
mouth grinning widely showing twin rows of tiny perfect teeth.
Nobody gave Fraser a second
look. He was ecstatic.
The Mounties talked idly while
the child played, but Fraser noticed that Turnbull seemed nervous. He inquired
what the problem was.
"I'm in a terrible pickle,
Constable Fraser. Not just me. Me and my sister and Shayna. A terrible pickle."
"Tell me about it, Turnbull."
"To start off with, I lied. I
lied to you and Inspector Thatcher."
Fraser let out an encouraging
mmm-hmmm to keep Turnbull talking.
"I'm not watching Shayna because
my sister doesn�t approve of babysitters. Oh, Fraser, the truth is she has to
take part in this trade show or she'll lose her job, but she couldn't afford to
hire anyone to take care of Shayna while she was out of town. She had to bring
Shayna along."
"You don't have any other
family?"
"None, none," said Turnbull,
plaintively. "My sister isn't even supposed to have Shayna with her in the
hotel room this week. Her office is paying all her expenses and they wouldn't
approve her bringing her daughter along. She's so afraid someone at the hotel
will see them together. Or someone will come in the room and see Shayna's
things there."
"It is fortunate that this trade
show just happens to take place in the one city in the world where her brother
happens to be," Fraser opined.
"Oh yes, a tremendous
co-incidence. The kind you usually would only have in fiction. But meanwhile
Shayna has to sleep somewhere, and if not in the hotel then where?"
Fraser sat for a moment,
considering Turnbull's situation.
"It's too bad Shayna can't stay
with you, but I don't guess you have enough room in your cardboard box."
"No, there�s barely room for
me," Turnbull wailed in his distress.
"If we brought over some extra
bedding, you and Shayna could bunk with Diefenbaker and me this week. My apartment is small, but we could all
squeeze in. Shayna could play with
Dief. She might have a very nice time."
Turnbull began to stammer his
gratitude, then he stopped and asked "You don't think, Constable Fraser, that
anyone would think it was inappropriate for a little girl to be sleeping over
with two grown men?"
Both Mounties turned to look at
the sweet little girl, swinging on her swing, her little legs kicking cutely up
and down as she laughed musically.
"That's just silly, Turnbull,"
said Fraser, settling the matter.
That evening after work they all
walked over to Turnbull's box, where he scooped up what pillows and bedding he
had, and a change of clothes and toiletries for overnight. Then they took a bus
to the hotel where Turnbull's sister was staying.
Turnbull and his sister had been
playing telephone tag all afternoon to set up the plan Fraser had in mind. When
they arrived in the hotel lobby, they already knew that Shirley would be tied
up at a company dinner and that Shayna's suitcase would be waiting for them in
the hotel's luggage room.
By this time Fraser was ready to
splurge on a taxi to get the group and their pile of belongings back to his
apartment.
Turnbull had never been to
Constable Fraser's apartment before. Once inside, he wandered about the place,
as curious as a toddler and just as bold.
The actual toddler came through the threshold, took one look at
Diefenbaker and with a happy cry of "Doggie!" threw herself at the wolf.
Diefenbaker didn't mind; he lapped up the attention. Immune as he was to human
cuteness, he still enjoyed the cooing and petting he was getting from the
child.
Seeing that his guest were being
entertained - Shayna with Dief and Turnbull with poking about Fraser's spare
furnishings - Fraser set about to do practical things. He combined Turnbull's
beddings with some extra Hudson's Bay Company blankets of his own to produce a
rudimentary sleeping area on the floor for himself and Turnbull, leaving his
bed for little Shayna to occupy. The he rummaged through his refrigerator for a
meal he could improvise. He found some ground beef, some instant potato flakes
and a can of corn. Sufficient for a shepherd's pie, he decided. He set about
cooking, casting an eye every now and then on what Turnbull might be doing.
Shayna, he knew, would be safe under Dief's watchful eye.
At last the shepherd's pie was
ready to be placed in the oven. Fraser left it to bake and then came out to
join Turnbull and Shayna. The child, tired from the day's exciting exploration
of new places and people, was already asleep curled up against Dief's soft,
warm flank. The wolf told Fraser, with quiet "woof", not to make too much
noise.
Turnbull, being larger and
taking longer to tire, was still deep in exploratory mode. Fraser caught him
examining the items lined up on top of the mantelpiece of the bricked over
fireplace. Specifically, Turnbull had hold of a business card and was peering
at it seriously as Fraser came into the room.
"Dawn Charest, Media Relations
Consultant" he read aloud to Fraser. "Any relation?"
"Not that she told me."
"Why do you have the card of a
person like this?" Turnbull wanted to know. He spoke a little too loudly for
Diefenbaker's liking and the wolf growled at him softly.
In a whisper, Fraser summarized
for Turnbull the tale of his encounter the year before with Mark Smithbauer and
about the hockey player's media consultant who had tried to recruit the Mountie
for product endorsements.
"I wasn�t really sure what she
meant at the time. I guess I still don't entirely understand, but I didn't like
the sound of it."
"Commercials, Constable Fraser.
She must have contacts with talent agencies," the other Mountie explained,
pleased that there was something he knew better than his more experienced
co-worker. "She might even get you on billboards, the sides of buses, why,
all over the country."
"What would be in it for her,
Turnbull?"
"Fifteen per cent of whatever
you make. That's the usual percentage."
Fraser thought about this. "She
claimed she would be able to make me a rich man."
"I'm sure she could. If I may
say so, Sir, you are good-looking, and your voice is very well modulated when
you use the lower registers."
It's all about being cute,
Fraser thought. He looked away from Turnbull to the child curled up with
Diefenbaker. She was letting out tiny sighs and sniffles as she snoozed. She's
as cute - no - cuter, asleep as awake, he observed. If this Charest woman thought being cute would bring him money,
perhaps the same could work for little Shayna.
While the two of them were
eating, Fraser broached the idea to Turnbull.
The other Mountie was
enthusiastic. "Shirley would bank the money for Shayna, of course."
"I don't think it would be wrong for your sister to use part of it to help her care for Shayna, if she were
careful to keep most of it aside for daughter."
"Of course, but only if she were
in dire straits. Shirley would never do anything that wasn't in Shayna's best
interest."
The men resolved to call Dawn
Charest the next morning.
Shayna slept another half hour
until Diefenbaker decided she should be fed before actually settling down for
the night and nudged the child awake. The girl would only agree to eat if
Diefenbaker were allowed to share her meal. With this gesture, she made a
friend for life.
The next morning, Inspector
Thatcher took Shayna shopping, leaving Fraser and Turnbull an opportunity to
place a call to Dawn Charest.
"Of course I remember you,
Constable," she cooed over the telephone. "Please tell me you're ready to sign
with me. I know just the people I want to introduce you to."
Turnbull heard her too, his face
held close to Fraser's head to hear the conversation.
"Actually, Ms. Charest . . ." he began, resisting the urge to correct her grammar. She ought to have said 'I
know just the people to whom I want to introduce you.'
"Call me Miss Charest. I like
the whole world to know I'm available."
"Actually, Miss Charest, I was
wondering whether you also represent children."
"Children? Why? Do you have
someone in mind?"
"The niece of a colleague of
mine. She's a very attractive child. She's three."
"Oh." Both Fraser and the
listening Turnbull heard the disappointment on the other end of the line.
After a pause they heard Dawn
Charest say, "Very young children are in great demand because it so difficult
to find any that can learn lines, work under direction and remain calm during
long shoots. Shirley Temple was working at age three, not because she was cuter
than any other child of her generation, but because she had the temperament of
a much older child. Most young children can't handle the demands of working on
camera. They tire easily, they're distractible and they tend to throw tantrums.
"Perhaps if you met Shayna you
would be able to tell whether she had the appropriate temperament."
"I can arrange to have her
audition at a talent agency, I suppose." The woman didn't sound overly enthusiastic, but Turnbull was nodding and grinning with enthusiasm enough for himself, Charest and the ambivalent Fraser.
"Could it be this week, please?
They're not in town very long."
"One condition, Constable. You
sign with me. Today. No matter what happens with the kid."
Fraser was hit with a surge of
dismay. He had no such intention.
"Do you really hate money that
much, Constable Fraser? It's honest work, I assure you."
"I already have a job, Miss
Charest."
"Are you allowed to moonlight?"
"Well, yes," Fraser allowed, "as
long as it does not put me in conflict of interest with my police duties."
"It doesn't. I've handled cops
before."
Turnbull was becoming very
distressed. He silently mouthed the words 'please oh please' in Fraser's
direction.
Shayna, for all her cuteness,
didn't prove to have the patience for an acting career at this young age. But
Fraser, at the advanced age of thirty-five, was quite up to the demands of
learning lines and maintaining his cool during long demanding hours of
shooting.
He did insist on contributing
his half of all his earnings to the upkeep of Turnbull's little niece and her
mother. Shirley didn't want to accept the gifts, but Fraser was adamant.
Diefenbaker, he explained, had become so enamored of the child that he insisted
that a nest egg be created for her.
It took some convincing to make
Shirley and Turnbull believe that a wolf had an understanding of finance, but
finally they relented. Fraser further pointed out that if it hadn't been for
the impetus of wanting to get work for little Shayna, he never would have come
into this money in the first place.
I think it would only follow
that Fraser and Diefenbaker might have visited Shirley and Shayna in Winnipeg
from time to time. And if anything happened between the Mountie and the cute
little girl's mother = well - that is nobody else's business but their own.