An Alaskan Proposal

by Beth Carpenter

  He looked at his watch. “Four minutes, forty-five seconds. Impressive.”

  She laughed. “Maybe I should go back for lipstick.”

  “Not necessary.” Her full lips were naturally rosy. And they’d be a lot rosier if he kissed them. Which was a bad idea if he planned to keep their relationship in the friend arena. He turned another page. “What’s all this?”

  “Oh, just doodles.”

  “They’re more than that. Even I can see you put some effort into these. They’re good.”

  “Thanks.” She shrugged. “I had a couple of ideas for Orson’s women’s wear. I thought maybe if I make the management team, I could bring up the possibility of making a line that was a little more stylish, more like the expensive brands.”

  “Would they cost more to manufacture?”

  “Not a lot. Orson already uses quality fabrics and manufacturing techniques. A lot of women would pay a little more for clothes that look good on them, even for camping.”

  He’d noticed Marissa and Dana asking about her vest. “You may be onto something. The takeout should be ready by the time we get there. Are you?”

  “Do you mind if Boomer comes?”

  Leith looked down at his dog, who was lying quietly at his feet, her tail sweeping from side to side, while the terrier tugged on her ear. “Tal would never forgive me if he didn’t.”

  It took a little over thirty minutes to collect dinner and drive to Leith’s house. He parked in the garage and led Sabrina in through the kitchen door, glad he’d taken the time yesterday to straighten up a little before going camping.

  Sabrina swept her gaze over the all-white kitchen and dining alcove. “Wow. Look at all that counter space. And two ovens. But I must admit, I’m surprised. This is a very nice kitchen, but it doesn’t look like you.”

  “It’s not. The previous owners did this. I always feel like I’m in an operating room.”

  “It is a little sterile. Have you considered painting the walls a different color?”

  “Yeah. In fact,” he admitted, “I bought paint. But I painted the bathroom first, and that was so tedious I’ve been putting off tackling this room.”

  “I’ll do it.”

  “What? No. It’s a huge job.”

  “It’s not so big. Other than the dining area, most of the wall is covered with cabinets.”

  “No way.” Having Sabrina over for a meal was just a date, but having her paint his kitchen seemed to cross a line. Like she belonged here in his house, in his life. And after his experience with Nicole, he wasn’t letting anyone get that close again. Especially not someone who wasn’t staying.

  Sabrina ran a hand over the texture on the wall. “Come on. I owe you for all you’ve done for me.”

  “I told you, we’re friends. Friends don’t keep score of who owes who a favor.”

  “Any relationship where one person is always giving and the other taking doesn’t last long. Please, I want to do this for you. What color paint did you choose?”

  Leith set the take-out bag on the table. “Why don’t you start your laundry while I unload the car, and then we can eat before it gets cold. We’ll discuss paint later, okay?”

  “Okay. Dinner first.” The little smile she gave him made it clear she wasn’t going to let it go. Maybe she was right. Friends helped each other. Really, painting a wall wasn’t such an intimate thing. He wouldn’t think twice about hiring a painter, so why did it seem like a big deal to let Sabrina do it?

  He grabbed the mail and stuffed it into his pocket before carrying the leftover camp food to the kitchen. He could unload the equipment later. Meanwhile, Sabrina carried her laundry basket inside, and he showed her the laundry room off the kitchen. She stuffed a load into the washer while he set the table. While he filled glasses with ice water, Sabrina opened the take-out cartons. The aroma of sesame oil, spices and peppers wafted across the kitchen.

  They filled their plates, sharing the food between them. Ignoring the fork he’d set beside her plate, Sabrina unwrapped the chopsticks the restaurant had provided. She took a bite of pad thai. “Mmm.” She chewed and swallowed. “That is spicy. So good.” She tried the curry and rice.

  Leith watched her, fascinated with her dexterity with chopsticks and the expression of bliss when she tasted the spicy food. She smiled at him. “Aren’t you going to eat?”

  “Yeah.” He took a bite, reveling in the burst of flavor with a tinge of pain. “Extra spicy tonight.”

  “It’s perfect. I expected Alaska to be all about seafood, but I’ve seen all sorts of ethnic restaurants and little grocery stores.”

  “A friend of mine teaches social studies, and he says his is the most diverse high school in America.”

  “I wonder why so many different people wind up in Anchorage, of all places. I mean, you have to come here. You don’t just happen to be driving through on your way somewhere else.”

  “Probably the same as you. Job opportunities. But then they live here awhile, make friends, put down roots. In the winter, they see the snow-covered mountains turn pink in the alpenglow, and in summer they watch the goslings grow up in neighborhood lakes. It becomes home.”

  “You love it.”

  “I do.”

  “Even in winter?”

  “Especially in winter. No, that’s not true. I love fishing and camping in the summer, and that’s when we teach most of our outdoor classes. But winter in the woods is beautiful. Anchorage has miles of trails. I ski and bike.”

  “Bike? In winter?”

  “We use fat tire bikes. They have wide, soft tires that don’t sink into the snow.”

  She shook her head. “You Alaskans are a special breed. You must be born with antifreeze in your veins.”

  “Maybe. Mostly it’s just a matter of the right clothes and equipment.”

  “We’re starting to get in some of our fall and winter inventory at the store. The thermal underwear selection is astounding. Polypropylene, bamboo, silk—I had no idea there were so many variations.”

  He grinned. “Didn’t carry a lot of thermal underwear at Cutterbee’s?”

  “Not much. Plenty of silk lingerie, but that’s a whole different thing.”

  “I’ll bet.” He could picture the type of underwear she was talking about. Better if he didn’t, though. Sweat was beading on his forehead and he wasn’t sure it was all due to the capsaicin in the pepper. “I’m getting more water. Want some?”

  “Sure. Thanks.”

  They ate until Leith couldn’t take any more heat. He got out some plastic containers and remembered he hadn’t seen a lot of food besides yogurt and eggs in Sabrina’s refrigerator. “Want to take some of this home for tomorrow?”

  “No, thanks. If I ate like this every day, I’d have to buy a whole new wardrobe.” She licked the last bit of curry from her chopstick. “Although it might be worth it. Oh, my wash cycle is probably done. I’ll put the clothes in the dryer before I help clean up.”

  “I can do it.”

  She waved him away, then disappeared into the laundry room and returned a few minutes later. Leith had already started washing the plates, so she picked up a dish towel and dried. It felt good. Companionable. It was nice to share dinner with someone who was capable of conversing and wasn’t covered in fur.

  Once she’d put away the last glass, she turned to him. “Okay, about that painting. When can I start?” He started to shake his head, but she interrupted. “Are you afraid I’ll mess it up?”

  “No. I’ve seen what you did at your apartment. It looks great.”

  “Okay, are you afraid you won’t like the color you chose?”

  Not really, but it made for a decent excuse. “Right. I’d hate for you to go to all that trouble if it turns out to be a bad color.”

  “Show me.”

  Fine. He fetched a bucket of paint
, along with a sample card, from the closet in the laundry room. “It’s called Caramel Delight, whatever that means. It looks tan to me. It was that or Spruce Tree, and I decided this was the safer choice.”

  “I agree. Deep green would look great, but that’s a lot of drama to live with every day.” She examined the sample. “This isn’t really caramel-colored, though. Caramel is more golden, whereas this has some red undertones, which is even better. I think you’ll really like the way this warms up your kitchen.”

  The paint had been sitting in the closet for six months, but now that Sabrina had described it, he was suddenly eager to see it on the walls. “I have a workshop to teach this weekend, and quite a few things next week. I’m not sure when I can get to it.”

  “I’m off Tuesday. Is there any reason I can’t come and paint while you work?”

  “You really want to paint on your day off?”

  “Yes. I like painting. And I want to do something for you. You’ve taught me so much, and it’s really helped at work.”

  “Okay, you’ve talked me into it. I’ll show you where the spare key is hidden, and you can let yourself in.”

  “Yes!” She stepped forward and hugged him. “You won’t be sorry.”

  He allowed himself a brief hug in return before stepping away from her. If she kept hugging him like that, it was going to be very difficult to keep this relationship on a just-friends basis. And if he couldn’t manage that, he had a feeling he was going to be very sorry indeed.

  * * *

  SABRINA ARRIVED AT work the next day forty minutes before the store was scheduled to open. A steady drizzle made her especially thankful for the stellar weather they’d enjoyed on the camping trip. She greeted the security guard, who let her in the door. Unfortunately, Walter was standing next to the front registers talking to a woman, and because of the cold, Sabrina was wearing the offending vest again. Maybe she could sneak by without Walter spotting her.

  “Sabrina,” he called, and waved her over.

  Well, so much for that thought. She smiled and headed in that direction. The woman with him looked familiar, but Sabrina couldn’t immediately place her.

  “Sabrina, you remember Kate Simonton.”

  Oh, one of the upper managers Sabrina had met during the interview process. At headquarters, Kate had her hair up and wore a business suit. Today, she still looked businesslike, but in tailored slacks and a silk shirt with low-heeled pumps.

  “Of course I remember.” What was she doing here? Did it have anything to do with Sabrina’s internship? “It’s good to see you again, Ms. Simonton.”

  “Kate, please. I’m glad to see you, too. Walter tells me you’re managing women’s wear for now.”

  “Yes.” Sabrina tried to think of something brilliant to say concerning her job, but nothing came to mind. “I am.”

  Kate tilted her head. “That vest.”

  “It’s one of ours.” Sabrina hastened to assure her, pointing to the double-O logo on the zipper pull. “I just did a few alterations. I plan to leave it in my locker before customers come in.”

  “Let me see the back.” Kate made a twirling motion with her finger and Sabrina obediently turned in a slow circle.

  “I like it. What kind of fabric did you use for the accents?”

  “Microfiber. It’s from a dog scarf from the pet department.”

  Kate laughed. “Very creative. What other alterations have you come up with?”

  “Um, this is the only piece where I’ve made major design changes. The rest are just fitting alterations.” Sabrina paused, and then decided to go for it. “I’ve sketched a few other design ideas for outdoor wear.”

  “I’d like to see them.”

  “I’m afraid I left them at home.”

  “That’s okay. Bring them tomorrow.”

  “Tomorrow?”

  “Since Kate’s in town, I’ve scheduled an afternoon meeting with all the department heads tomorrow at my house,” Walter said. “I’m just about to send out a memo. The rain is supposed to clear up, so we’ll do a potluck cookout in the yard for dinner.”

  “Sounds great,” Sabrina said, wondering what in the world a potluck cookout entailed.

  “You can bring dessert.” Walter smiled at her as though he’d given her a gift. Maybe he had. At least he hadn’t mentioned anything about beans.

  “I’ll look forward to it. I’d better get to work. I’ll see you tomorrow, Kate.” Sabrina made her escape. She probably should have hung around and schmoozed a bit, but even after all she’d learned from Leith, hanging out with Walter was a risk. The more she said, the more likely her ignorance of camping and outdoor activities would be exposed. Even worse if it happened in front of Kate, who, if Sabrina recalled correctly, was a vice president.

  Sabrina stashed her vest in her locker, pinned her name tag to her polo and hurried to her department to make sure it was in good shape, just in case Kate wandered by. To her relief, Autumn had left everything neat and organized. Sabrina decided to make a couple of changes on the end-of-rack displays to showcase a new shipment of plaid shirts.

  The displays seemed to be helping. Sales of women’s wear were up almost 20 percent since she’d taken charge of the department. Darn it, that was what she should have mentioned to Kate. Well, maybe tomorrow she’d have a chance.

  Dessert. She could make brownies at home. Abuelita’s recipe was always a hit. Or she could make the dessert Leith had shown her. She didn’t have any wild blueberries in the freezer, but she could pick up some peaches. Assuming Walter’s backyard had a firepit, she could wow everyone with her outdoor cooking skills.

  She layered a red T-shirt under a blue-and-white plaid shirt with a tiny red stripe and stepped back to look. It needed something else. She hung a navy cap from the end of the hanging rack above it. Better.

  Just after the lights flashed, signaling the store was opening, Sabrina turned to see Walter and Kate passing by on the way to his office. Kate gave her a thumbs-up. Sabrina’s spirits soared. If the vice president liked what she’d done, that had to be good for her prospects. She just had to make sure she kept the positive vibe going at the meeting tomorrow.

  Her cell vibrated in her pocket. A new email with official notification of the meeting and cookout. Good thing she’d scheduled Autumn to cover the department tomorrow afternoon. Sabrina had planned to do paperwork, but it could wait. She sidled over to the camping department. “Hey, Tim, did you hear about the meeting tomorrow?”

  He patted the cell phone in his pocket. “I just got the email. I’m grilling.”

  “So, you’ve done this before?”

  “Sure. Walter has these all the time, especially when someone from headquarters drops in. It gives him a chance to show off the equipment.”

  “They drop in a lot?”

  “Oh, yeah. Especially during salmon season. They usually tack on a fishing trip to their official business.”

  “Ah. Well, I was thinking about doing a dessert in a Dutch oven. Will there be a firepit or something?”

  “Sure, sure. Walter’s backyard is practically a campground. He buys charcoal by the ton, so just bring the Dutch oven and ingredients. I’ll show you where everything is tomorrow.”

  “That would be super. Thanks, Tim.”

  “No problem.”

  On her way back to her department, Sabrina passed a display of Dutch ovens. The price made her flinch. As much as she hated to be further in his debt, she’d have to borrow Leith’s. But at least she’d convinced him to let her paint his kitchen, which would help even up the score. Sabrina wandered back to her department, where a woman and her teenage daughter were exclaiming over the new plaid shirts. Sabrina hurried over to make the sale.

  * * *

  LEITH WAS RUNNING late that morning. He grabbed a granola bar and an apple from the bowl on his countertop, knocking off yeste
rday’s mail as he reached for it. He picked up the mail off the floor, noticing for the first time the hand-addressed envelope. He knew that looping handwriting. Nicole—no doubt inquiring about why he hadn’t returned the annulment papers. Well, he didn’t have time to get into it right now. He tucked the envelope in his back pocket and ran out the door, forgetting the apple in the process.

  Two hours later, he called a fifteen-minute break in the class he was teaching at one of the big office buildings downtown. Between his growling stomach and the letter in his pocket, he’d had a hard time concentrating on emergency-response training. He invested in a candy bar from the vending machine in the employee break room and decided to take a walk around the block while he ate it, both to clear his head and to avoid running into students who might try to start a conversation.

  Ordinarily, he welcomed student questions and comments, but today he needed a moment alone, because this unread letter was looming over him like one of those Road Runner traps that Wile E. Coyote was always setting. Once he’d turned the corner and was sure no one from class was following, he tore open the envelope.

  Typical Nicole. Why hadn’t he gotten off his butt and mailed the papers? The wedding was only six months away, and she and her fiancé had already spent a fortune on deposits, etc., etc. It hadn’t even occurred to her that he might not want to sign the papers. She expected him to give her whatever she asked for, just as he always had. But they weren’t married anymore, and her happiness was no longer his responsibility. Maybe it never had been.

  Sabrina was right—a relationship where one person did all the giving and the other all the taking was doomed. Sabrina might be right about a lot of things. He’d taught her about woodcraft, but she’d taught him about life. About adaptability. About passing judgment. He cringed at his early assessment of her, that she was empty-headed and used her looks to get by. She was smart and hardworking and eager to learn. She deserved that management position. Even if it was in Seattle. Even if it took her away from him.

  His phone vibrated. As if thinking about her had summoned her, Sabrina had texted, asking if she could borrow his Dutch oven for some job thing tomorrow. She could stop by his house after work to pick it up, if that was all right with him.