Come Fly With Me

by Addison Fox

  So what was the point of even asking?

  Chapter Eighteen

  In a move that had become pleasantly familiar, Mick helped her out of the car. He’d made arrangements with a guy he knew at the airport to borrow his SUV for the afternoon in exchange for a discount on a run of goods back down to Anchorage.

  Grier thought there was a lovely sort of practicality to life in Alaska. People helped one another out. Maybe it was something that naturally happened when so few people lived under such isolated conditions or maybe they were just nicer than she was used to people being.

  Would Brett Crane be nice?

  She glanced up at the bright lights blazing in the windows of his small house and hoped so. He’d been nice enough over the phone the other day. A little caught off guard, but he warmed up quickly.

  “What time is it? Do the clocks change this far north?”

  Mick held her arm as they walked down a snowy sidewalk toward a small row of clapboard houses. “It’s three minutes after the last time you asked me and no, the time’s fine. Alaska’s all on one time zone except for the Aleutians.”

  “The darkness throws me off. And I thought it was dark in Indigo.”

  “It’s because we’re inside the Arctic Circle and technically still within polar night. They’ll come out of it in another week or so and be on the upswing toward the midnight sun.”

  “What must that be like?” Grier asked, as a stab of regret struck her square in the stomach at the knowledge she’d not be here to see it. “To see the sun at midnight?”

  He squeezed her hand where their gloved fingers were intertwined. “It’s pretty incredible.”

  She wanted to ask him to bring her back—in the summer—but they were at Brett Crane’s front door. The small stocky man had a kind smile and he had his door wide-open, welcoming them in.

  “You must be Grier.”

  She dragged off her glove to shake his hand, not surprised when he quickly embraced it in a firm grip.

  “I’m Brett Crane. Come on in and get out of the cold. You picked a tough day to head up here.”

  Grier was confused at the comment. “There’s no snow?”

  “But it’s about thirty below,” Mick added for her benefit before extending his hand to Brett’s.

  Brett ushered them into his small living room and Grier was immediately captivated by the warm, cozy feel. A fire crackled in the fireplace and thick throws layered the surfaces of a couch and two overstuffed chairs. “How’d your plane do in this?”

  “She’s used to it.” Mick shrugged out of his coat. “But no one will be sorry to see spring roll around.”

  “No one ever is,” Brett added with a wink.

  The two men exchanged a few war stories about frozen transportation equipment before the three of them settled into chairs.

  “First things first.” Brett rubbed his hands. “Maeve gave me a heads-up you were going to call. I didn’t expect it would happen so quick, but there’s no time like the present.”

  “You know my aunt?”

  Grier had a momentary twinge at the question, seeing as how she didn’t actually know her aunt, but it didn’t seem like the time to try to explain that.

  And then any sense of worry vanished as she took in the blush that suffused Brett from his ruddy cheeks straight down his neck and on down past the neck of his frayed sweatshirt.

  Maybe her aunt wasn’t so reclusive after all.

  “I take it you and Maeve know each other pretty well?”

  “Well enough.” He coughed. “Anyway, she told me what she was going to do. It ate at her a bit, seeing as how it feels a little disloyal to Kate and all.”

  “Mr. Crane—”

  His dark eyes crinkled and his smile was warm when he interrupted her. “Don’t get all mister-mister with me, hon. It’s not a judgment; it’s a fact.”

  Grier sighed and knew he was only being honest. She had a right to her father’s things, but her sister had the relationships. And to assume people would simply go against that was asking a lot.

  But she didn’t have to like it.

  As if on cue, Mick reached for her hand, lacing their fingers in a tight squeeze.

  “But because I knew, I’ve had a chance to pull a few things together. So first, I need to thank you. I hadn’t expected to enjoy a trip down memory lane quite so much.”

  Brett pointed to an album on the coffee table and a small box of photos that sat alongside it. “I’ve known your father since the first day I started up here. His family was from Montana, but he wanted to see Alaska, he said.”

  The startling revelation that her father wasn’t actually from Indigo was yet another tidbit to file away. Were there other family members out there somewhere?

  Would Kate tell her about them if she asked? Maybe other aunts or uncles. Nieces or nephews.

  Family she never knew she had. People related to her, yet as distant as strangers.

  Because they were strangers.

  Mick squeezed her fingers again and it was enough to bring her out of her thoughts. Brett held the album out to her. “Go on and take a look. I think you’ll like what you see.”

  Grier opened the book and was immediately struck by the bright smiling faces that stared back at her. Two men bookended the photo. Brett, stocky even then, was on the left and a taller, thinner man stood on the right. Both had women under their arms and all four of them laughed with carefree abandon.

  “That’s my father?”

  “Yep. He was about twenty-six years old in that picture. Cocky as a rooster and as sure of himself as a grizzly bear. I swear, that man was a pistol. Nothing scared him.”

  “Who are these women?”

  “The one with me was my late wife.” His tone grew quiet—speculative—as he tapped the plastic cover. “You don’t recognize the other woman?”

  Grier leaned in and studied the grainy photo.

  And nearly dropped the book off her lap when the image registered.

  “That’s my mother?”

  Patrice Thompson tapped the Montblanc pen on her blotter in a hard, staccato rhythm. She was torn between the horrifying feeling that she’d just been visited by a ghost and the exhilarating acknowledgment that things were going to change.

  She was headed back to Alaska.

  The summons had been more than clear. In fact, she had to admire the tone with which it was delivered as it was one she’d employed on more than one occasion herself.

  Harsh. Implacable. And layered with the honeyed sweetness of well-bred manners and a spine of steel.

  The trip would be different this time. Jonas wouldn’t be at the other end of it.

  But their daughter was.

  A stab of regret arrowed through her as she thought about what Grier had endured for the last few months. It had nearly broken her to watch her daughter struggle to deal with her father’s inheritance, but a cold, slithery fear had kept her from saying or doing anything that would possibly bring Jonas—even his ghost—back into her life.

  And look where it had gotten her, she thought on a rueful laugh.

  He was back anyway.

  She’d lost him once and the thought of going through that agony once again sliced at her heart with deadly precision. But it wasn’t to be helped.

  Her daughter needed her.

  And it was about damn time she proved she was up to the task.

  With one final, indulgent sigh, she stood up from the desk and moved to the walk-in closet in her bedroom. She did a quick scan of her clothes and acknowledged she needed to do some shopping to prepare for the trip.

  And in exactly one week, she’d take all those new clothes, board a plane and head back to the one place on Earth to which she’d sworn she would never return.

  Avery folded and refolded the brochure in her lap and waited for Julia Forsyth to arrive. She’d selected the most remote section of the Jitters and dropped her purse on one of the overstuffed chairs to ensure no one took the seat.

 
; Would Julia really do it? Would she run interference for her with Susan?

  Avery hoped she would, but thinking and doing were vastly different things.

  She should know.

  She’d thought about the exchange opportunity for a year. When she’d first heard about it, she’d researched it and asked some questions of other travel and tourism professionals she knew. They’d all raved about the program and promised not only a well-run experience, but the chance of a lifetime.

  So she’d applied on the sly, never thinking her application would be accepted. Or that she’d be chosen.

  And here she was eleven months later with the proverbial golden ticket in her hands.

  Julia swept into the coffee bar and headed straight to the back. “Hello, my dear. It’s good to see you.”

  Avery kissed her cheeks and gestured to the chair. “I got your favorite. A full-fat mocha.”

  “Oooh.” Julia’s eyes closed on an expression of ecstasy. “Don’t let Dr. Cloud know I’m drinking this cup of sin.”

  Avery had often thought Roman’s grandmother and Dr. Cloud should actually get up to a little sinning together, but she’d kept it to herself. For one thing, you just didn’t say that to an older woman.

  And second, well, it was Roman’s grandmother for God’s sake. Talking to her about getting it on with the town doctor—no matter how appealing he still was well into his seventies—just wasn’t done.

  Brushing off the odd notions, she took her seat and lifted her own steaming mug of coffee. “Thanks for coming to meet me.”

  “Is everything all right?”

  Julia had been one of the few people she’d confided in over the years about her mother, and the woman had an uncanny ability to read her. “Fine. Good, actually. Really good.”

  “You look excited. Has Ronnie finally gotten up the gumption to ask you out?”

  “Ronnie?”

  “That hunky hunk at Maguire’s. He’s always had a thing for you. I thought this would be the winter he’d finally do something about it.”

  “No, no he hasn’t. And that’s probably a good thing.”

  “Why?”

  “Grier and Jess asked me the same question,” she muttered before she caught herself.

  “What, dear?”

  “Well, for starters he’s like a decade younger. And I babysat him as a kid.”

  “He’s not a kid any longer.”

  “No, I can see that.”

  Okay, time to get off Ronnie. Literally and metaphorically.

  “So, what I wanted to talk to you about was something a bit different.”

  “What is it?”

  She handed Julia the brochure before she could chicken out.

  The older woman looked at it before glancing back up. “Exchange program?”

  “A nationally accredited exchange program. The hospitality industry is one hundred percent behind it and all the candidates are fully vetted so that you don’t get a serial killer in your hotel.”

  “Honey.” Julia reached out and grabbed one of her hands. Avery looked down to realize she’d been flinging it wildly as she talked.

  “Yes?”

  “Why don’t you start from the beginning?”

  So Avery filled her in on her research into the hotel exchange program and the woman named Lena who’d called her the other day and introduced herself and asked if she wanted to change places for three months.

  “So it’s in County Clare. In a town called Ennis. That’s where Lena’s from and her family owns a B and B there.”

  Julia nodded and it was impossible to miss the snap of interest that lit up her dark brown eyes.

  “And I need your help in convincing Susan that I should go do this and she should accept a stranger from Ireland to work in her hotel for three months.”

  “Is that all?”

  A heavy breath escaped her throat, one Avery hadn’t even realized she’d been holding. “All? Well, yeah.”

  Julia leaned forward and Avery felt the warm press of her thin hand against her cheek. “Yes, dear, is that all? Because I suggest we finish these sinful coffees and march straight over to the hotel. You and I need to make plans.”

  “Plans for what?”

  “We’re headed to Anchorage. You’ve got a trip to plan for and I absolutely will not let you get on a plane without brand-new luggage.”

  It was long minutes later—long after Julia had pulled her in for a tight hug and long after Avery had brushed away the silly tears she hadn’t been able to hold back—that she finally relaxed enough to smile.

  And once she started, she couldn’t stop.

  Grier flipped through the photo album once more, her gaze drawn yet again to the picture of the happy, smiling couples on the first page.

  Was that really her mother?

  Once it had been pointed out to her, it was evident that it was Patrice Thompson, but she struggled with reconciling the laughing, carefree woman in the photo with the reserved person who’d raised her.

  Brett laid a tray on the table, laden with cups of tomato soup and a stack of grilled cheese sandwiches.

  “Oh, you didn’t need to go to all this trouble.”

  “It’s not trouble. And I’m glad you’re here. You’ve given me a reason to go through those old photos and I’ve enjoyed the reminiscing.”

  Mick laid a stack of photos next to the album and reached for his coffee mug to get it out of the way. “Did you and Jonas keep in touch?”

  “We lost touch after he moved to Indigo. My Wendy and I got married and traveled a lot.” Brett patted one of the afghans that lay under his elbow and Grier didn’t miss the wistful expression that flitted across his face before he continued. “The pipeline was hard work, but it was good work. Good-paying work. We never had kids, so we traveled and enjoyed ourselves.”

  “When did Wendy pass away?”

  “A few years back. She wanted me to move away from here, but it’s my home. And it was our home. And hell, I make a mean casserole. As long as a man can cook himself a casserole, he can eat, you know?”

  Grier laughed and found herself once again enamored of the hearty spirit of the Alaskan locals. They grieved and missed their loved ones, but they had a pragmatism about life that was refreshing and engaging.

  “So anyway. You didn’t come here to get my recipe for tuna casserole. Jonas and I lost track of each other and then I got on Facebook a few years back.”

  “An endless resource for friendships, old relationships and friendly stalking,” Mick said with a broad smile.

  Brett slapped his knee. “You’re right about that. I found Jonas and shortly thereafter hooked up with Maeve.”

  “Are you, um”—Grier reached for a square of grilled cheese and deliberately kept her tone casual—“with my aunt?”

  “We’re special friends.”

  Her gaze collided with Mick as the words “special friends” lit the air above both their heads, but they both kept their thoughts to themselves.

  “I’d like more, but she’s been resistant. If you could put in a good word for me, though, I’d sure appreciate it.”

  Grier looked into Brett’s hopeful face and couldn’t resist leaning over and planting a quick kiss on his cheek. “I’d be happy to.”

  “So. Let’s get back to your mom and dad. Your mother was up here making a documentary.”

  “My mother?” The sensation she’d walked into a different dimension seized her and the slightly panicky feeling that maybe zombies really did lurk around every corner sent a shiver through her. “My mother was a filmmaker?”

  “She wasn’t the director, but she was part of it.” Brett snapped his fingers. “She was the producer.”

  “On a documentary?”

  “About the pipeline.” Brett nodded as he reached for a sandwich. “She sure was. Your mother was quite the looker and Jonas took a shine to her immediately and she fell just as hard. The film crew was up here for about four months and the two of them were inseparable. Wh
en they weren’t working, they were—” Brett broke off, another one of those sweet blushes suffusing his skin.

  “Freaking?” Mick added helpfully as he reached for a helping of grilled cheese.

  Grier swatted at his knee as Brett gave them a slightly puzzled frown, but he picked up on the subtext quick enough, the frown morphing into a smile. “That’s about right.”

  “I’m not asking you to give anything away that makes you uncomfortable, but I just don’t understand how they went from being this happy, lovey-dovey couple to living an entire continent apart. Did something happen?”

  Brett reached for a sandwich. His gaze was sharp with memories and his shoulders tensed in a straight line. She could see he struggled with what to say.

  “None of us ever really understood what happened. I don’t say this to speak ill of your mother, Grier, but my Wendy wasn’t all that fond of her. Kept telling me there was something off that she couldn’t quite put her finger on.”

  Grier knew that sense. It was the same one she’d lived with her entire life. Her mother had an odd, unsettling way about her that kept people at a distance. Even when you thought she was with you and in the moment, there was a gap.

  A chasm that simply couldn’t be crossed.

  “It’s all right, Brett. My mother has her eccentricities.”

  He nodded, then continued. “Even when things were going perfectly with Jonas and Patty, Wendy kept at me that something wasn’t right. Said every time she tried to pull your mom into conversation, she held back.”

  “A person’s entitled to his own thoughts,” Mick said, pushing his point. “Is it possible Grier’s mom is shy? The small-town nosiness isn’t for everyone.”

  “That’s more than fair and I said that to Wendy plenty, but she kept at it. And I was a skeptic until the last story she told me. Right before your mom left Alaska.”

  “What was it?”

  “She and the woman she was making the documentary with invited Wendy to see a preview. She was bored off her ass up here and leaped at the chance to do something while us guys were off on the site.”

  Grier didn’t even realize she was holding her breath until Mick reached for her hand and gave her fingers a tight squeeze.