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Buns N’ Roses

1/1/2026

Pam checked the clock on her dash. ‘Ten-fifteen? Don’t be so eager.’ She had wanted to arrive sensibly early. Maybe somewhere between ten-thirty and quarter ‘til.

She turned a vaguely familiar corner and concluded that she’d left early to buffer in getting lost on the way to his house. She looked over at the two covered aluminum pans on the floor in front of the passenger seat. ‘A smile and an appetite, he says. You don’t show up for pork and sauerkraut empty-handed.’ She had tagged each with a different color sticky note.

‘There’s his Bronco. The other one must be Abby’s car. Ten-twenty? Now what do I do? Circle the block? I could run down to the Grab & Go and top off.’ She gritted her teeth and pulled in behind Gary’s SUV. ‘She might want to go to Matt’s. This is going to be weird enough without parking her in.’ Several deep breaths later, she opened her eyes. ‘Ten twenty-two? C’mon. That little panic attack should have gotten me to at least ten twenty-five. Oh, here he comes.’ She turned off her car and got out.

“Hey, thanks for coming.” His smile was infectious, so she gave him one back.

“Good morning. I’ve got something over on the passenger side.” She circled the back of the car to open the passenger door. She picked up one of the pans and handed it to him.

“GB?” He looked at the pale green sticky note.

“Green bean casserole.”

“You didn’t have to, but I’m glad you did.”

“Do you like it?”

“Who doesn’t like green bean casserole? It’s a classic.”

She reached in and picked up the other pan.

“AC? Anchovy Chowder?”

She looked at the pan and laughed as she shut and locked the door. “That’s ludicrous. What kind of guess is that?”

“Just making sure you’re awake. Let’s get these inside while they’re still warm.”

She carried her pan in behind him. Without a second thought, she was in his kitchen. ‘Right through the door and into his house. It’s cozy. Okay, you’re here.’ She put hers down beside the casserole on the table. “You’re so silly. It’s apple cobbler.”

“Ooh! I am looking forward to that. Hey, if you think it will be alright, I can put those in with the pork and sauerkraut. The oven’s down for a slow cook.”

“Oh, sure. That will get these warm and ready.” Her eyes bugged, and she bit her lip. ‘Don’t talk like that. You just got here, and there’s a baby somewhere.’ She looked down at the pan. “I guess I’m kind of early for the parade.”

“Not at all. Can I get your coat?”

“Thanks.” She handed it over and tapped a nervous beat on the lid of the cobbler.

“Oh, wow. That is awesome. I love your shirt.” He smiled as he hung her heavy coat on the tree. “Abby!”

‘Yeah, might as well see what the weather is like this morning.’ Pam looked at the doorway.

Abby appeared with Teddy on her hip. She was wearing flannel pajamas with poinsettias on them, and Teddy was in a fuzzy blue jumpsuit. “Hi, Pam. Oh, I like that shirt.” No smile. Flat delivery. Quick departure.

‘Weather’s as cold inside as out. Hopefully, she’s just tired.’

“Don’t mind her. Teddy was fussing a lot overnight.” He peeled the green sticker off and stuck it on the left side of the oven door before sliding the casserole in. The pink sticker wound up on the right side, as did the cobbler.

‘Okay, that tracks. Single-dad coping strategy. Kind of ingenious, really.’ She looked down at the design on her sweatshirt.

There were a bunch of comical cows looking up at a sparkly ball and the words, Happy Moo Year, under the cows. She had hoped it would be an icebreaker.

“Okay, can I get you something? Coffee? Tea? Hot chocolate?”

“Do you have cinnamon tea?”

“Sure do. Coming right up.” He reached into a cupboard and secured a packet and a mug.

‘The host with the most.’ She watched him puttering around, preparing her tea. ‘Those jeans really showcase his tush. What? Is that how you thank a man for making you a cup of tea? Well, it actually may be, but Abby’s still here.’ She turned away to look at the doorway.

“Go ahead and grab a seat. I’ll have your tea done in a moment. Sugar? Cream?”

“Do you still have eggnog?”

“Hard to believe, isn’t it?”

“It was a gamble, I’ll admit. Since you do, one sugar and top it off with eggnog.”

“I like the way you think, Ms. Grayson.”

‘If you could hear what I was thinking, Mr. Light, you’d probably like it even more.’

Kendra rapped on the countertop with a wooden spoon. “Order. Order now.”

The others looked at her and piped down.

“As president of the Dustin Woodley Appreciation Society, I call this meeting to order. We have a single purpose today.”

Her mom whispered to Aunt Ivy. “Thank God. I don’t want the pork to dry out.”

“Order.” Kendra pointed the spoon at her mom. “Whatever half-baked focus groups they’ve got in Empire City aren’t getting the job done, and Dustin deserves an awesome superhero name.”

“Hear, hear.” Uncle Ian nodded.

“I second the motion.” Mr. Toby said.

“What did they pick already?” Chelsea asked.

“TurboTeen, Zoomer and ZoomBoy.” She shook her head and pushed her glasses up. “I think there’s a lack of oxygen in the city or something. What kind of nonsense names are those?”

“Yeah!” Bradley shook a fist, and Frank Jr. shook his tiny fist in solidarity.

“Okay, so let’s come up with something better.”

Lynn’s hand shot straight up.

“Recognizing Lynn and probably regretting it.” Kendra pointed the spoon at her.

“Fisticane! I vote for Fisticane.”

“Yes, that’s so much better.” She shook her head. “Please defend your petition.”

“Huh?”

“Why did you pick that?”

“Because of what he did. He was like a hurricane of fists, knocking all those bad guys over.”

“I can’t argue with your logic, but it doesn’t have the right…”

“Gravitas?” Ms. Meri suggested.

“Exactly.” Kendra nodded. “Let’s have something more dignified.”

“Maybe something out of mythology like Mercury or Hermes.” Dad said.

“It’s got some promise, but mercury is poisonous and Hermes sounds like that elf who wants to be a dentist.” She waved the spoon like a conductor’s baton.

“Hermes wants to be a dentist.” Bradley laughed until he and Frank Jr. collapsed to the floor.

Kendra sneered. “Dig deep, people. We can’t leave the hero of Wyoming Pass with a lame handle like TurboTeen.”

“There was somebody called Hyperion. That sounds kind of like hyper. Sort of goes with his speed. Right?” Aunt Ivy said.

“Zira! Who is Hyperion in mythology?”

A digital bloop sounded. “Hyperion was one of the titans who preceded the Greek gods. His name would be more suitable for a metahuman with light powers.”

“How about a speed guy like Dustin? And we already dismissed Mercury and Hermes.”

“There are the Anemoi. The Four Winds, Boreas, Notus, Eurus and Zephyrus.” The smart speaker explained.

“We live west of the city. Which one is the West Wind?” Kendra asked.

“Zephyrus was the West Wind in Greek mythology, gentle, life-giving and bringer of flowers.”

“Zephyr?” Ms. Meri asked.

“He does leave a gust of wind in his wake, and he saved that baby in the city.” Kendra tapped her chin with the spoon. “All in favor, say, aye.”

“Must be New Year’s if ye have that confounded stench waftin’ around.” Meirhe entered the dayroom with a grimace.

“And now that we have a fellow Pennswalder on the team, pork and sauerkraut for New Year’s is absolutely imperative.” Connor folded down the corner of his newspaper.

“I thought you were supposed to add an apple for that.” Dustin said, pacing in front of the oven.

“And caraway seeds.” HEARTH said. “They counter sulfur aromatics.”

“Ooh, caraway seeds.” Paul smiled. “Do we have any rye bread?”

“I think you ate the last of it making your New Year’s toast last night.” Dustin yawned. “Pretty sure you finished off the butter, too.”

“Meirhe, can you?” Paul turned to her.

“No. If ye want more, ye can go shoppin’. Be certain to spray some FreshAire when ye’re done. The pong is killin’ me.” She waved her hands overhead and dashed from the room.

Eric flattened himself in the doorway to let her pass. “What’s with her?”

“The sauerkraut is grossing her out.” Dustin said.

He nodded. “I can see that. It’s kind of strong. Hey, I got an email from your friend, Kendra.”

“Oh?”

“Apparently, they had an emergency meeting of the Dustin Woodley Appreciation Society and workshopped a better name.”

Connor flapped the newspaper over his head and erupted in laughter. “A better name than the Dustin Woodley Appreciation Society? How can you top something like that?”

“Aw, you’re just jealous that he has his own fan club.” Paul said.

Connor sat up, wiping a tear from his eye. “I’ll have you know, the Mister Awesomeness action figure is the best-selling item this quarter.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah.” Eric waved that away. “Listen. I think this one is a winner.”

“Well?” Dustin stopped pacing.

“Zephyr.”

“But I don’t have wind powers. I’m fast, like you.”

“Kendra typed up a whole justification. Here, read it.”

“I’m still partial to ZoomBoy.” Connor chuckled.

“You would be. Hey, want to come with me to get some more bread?”

“Sure, that should be done by the time we get back, and you’ll have some nice hearty bread to schleck up the juice.”

“I’m going to what?”

“You know, mopping up the juices with the bread. Rye is the perfect kind of schlecky bread or maybe pumpernickel.” Connor set his paper aside and headed to the coatrack.

“Do you have any idea what he’s saying?” Paul asked.

“It’s Pennswald Dutch. Just go with it.” Dustin read the report as he paced. “Huh, Zephyr.”

“Ooh!” Connor turned as he pulled his winter coat off of a hanger. “You could use that lightning that trails you when you’re running to burn Zs into the sidewalk.”

“Pretty sure Mr. Wisler isn’t going to appreciate having to pay to clean up sidewalk scorches all over town. Besides, I don’t trail lightning until I hit at least Mach 2.” Dustin finished the readout and started over again. “Zephyr.”

“I like it.” Eric smiled.

“So do I.” Paul put on his winter coat.

“It’s growing on me.” Connor said as he zipped up his coat. “But to me, you’ll always be ZoomBoy.”

Pam sat cross-legged on the couch next to Gary, maintaining a respectable distance. She had been nursing her tea for the better part of an hour as the parade went by on the screen.

“What’s that smell?” Abby sat on a nest of blankets with Teddy on the floor. “Did you put the cinnamon buns in already?”

“It’s probably my apple cobbler. How did you wrestle the cinnamon buns away from Zelda and Bonnie?” Pam took a sip of her tea as a float for some insurance company rolled past.

“Bonnie said her doctor warned her to cut down on sweets. I thought poor Zelda was going to lapse into utter despair. Those things were the only barrier between her and the abominable snow-woman of Laurel Ridge.”

Pam set her tea aside as a laugh took over. It started as a quiet spasm, but it grew until it shook her from head to toe. “Poor Zelda. Bonnie is so amazingly abrasive without her cinnamon buns.” She fell onto Gary’s shoulder and shook with laughter.

He put his arm around her shoulder and chuckled along. Teddy giggled in his mom’s lap. That got her laughing, too.

“You know what? You’re right about those buns. A couple minutes in the oven to warm up will be perfect. I’ll be right back.” He leaned over and kissed Pam’s forehead before he got up.

‘Really? You do that and leave me here on the couch by myself, feeling all squirmy?’ She was taking stock of the fact that had just happened when she realized Abby had seen it. “I, uh…”

“Look…” Abby set Teddy on all fours to let him crawl free.

“I’m not trying to–”

“I know. It doesn’t have to be weird. I’m sorry about Monday.”

“I’m sorry, too. Jenny invited me, and I felt so honored to be able to try to help. You know?”

“I just have a lot of feelings.” She clutched her little cross necklace. “I waited so long for Matt to come back and be Teddy’s dad, but I didn’t really know what to expect. It’s been… a lot.”

“I know I’m not… I couldn’t even try, but if you want to talk…”

“Yeah, you’re not, but you don’t need to be. You don’t need to try. Dad was everything for me growing up. I’m just having a hard time realizing that I actually am. You know? Baby, ring, fiancé, car, military paperwork… It all says grown-up, but…”

“Yeah.” She studied Abby. “Can I be honest with you?”

Abby nodded.

“It never really lands.” She shrugged. “I’m fifty, and I was stress-eating like a college kid the other night. I woke up and thought a raccoon had raided my kitchen, but I remembered it was all me. Don’t worry about feeling like a grown-up. Nobody ever does. The ones who do are just stuffy old weirdos, anyway.”