by Carol Ross
“I’ve got an official-looking letter here for Mr. Caleb Cedar, Attorney at Law—needs a John Hancock.”
“All right, thanks, Ralph. It was great to catch up.” Jonah scrawled his signature on the card attached to Ralph’s clipboard.
“Sure thing. Looking forward to seeing you around, Jonah.”
He resumed his seat behind Gramps’s desk—a gorgeous wooden antique made of Pacific Yew that Jonah had found at an Anchorage on-line auction, and had shipped to Gramps after he’d received his first big paycheck. Gramps loved the desk and Jonah had loved giving it to him. Jonah enjoyed spending his money on Gramps, felt like it was something he could do to let Gramps know he was thinking about him even though they were so far apart. But now he found himself wondering if these kinds of gestures had been enough.
A law firm’s return address on the letter caught his eye. What business could Gramps possibly have in Utah? Ancillary probate maybe? Definitely something he could handle, but he didn’t have any more time than that to ponder because he saw Gary and Ingrid Watte walking up the sidewalk. He got up and let them in.
In spite of the pinched look of pain on her face, Ingrid appeared as lovely as she had in high school—and way too young to have three children. Her flower-printed dress swished around her ankles and her long blonde hair was twisted into Heidi-style braids. She greeted Jonah warmly, but her cornflower blue eyes were red-rimmed and seemed to be on the verge of tears.
Gary appeared to have somehow grown even larger than he’d been at their wedding, but not muscle-turned-flab as happens to many former college football players. More like muscle turned concrete. Jonah guessed he might be tending toward baldness because his head was now shaved, but it worked on Gary; he reminded Jonah of a bodyguard or an ultimate fighter.
They exchanged greetings and reminisced like only people who’d gone to school together can. Jonah eventually got around to explaining that he was helping Gramps out for a while, but if they wanted to wait for him to return that would be fine.
Gary and Ingrid exchanged a look and then Ingrid spoke, “We’re okay with you handling this for us, Jonah. We trust you. We’d like to do this as amicably as possible, anyway, to save as much money as we can. And spare the children any fighting—” She broke off on a swallowed sob.
Jonah softened his tone. “That’s a really good idea. Divorces can get very expensive. If you guys can agree on a settlement it will make things much easier, faster and cheaper.”
Ingrid shot Gary an “I told you so” look and Gary said, “Ingrid, I never said it wouldn’t work—the only thing I said is that I don’t want a divorce.”
“You should have thought about that before you humiliated me.”
“Ingrid, I’ve told you dozens of times that it didn’t mean anything. What happened with Lucille was an accident. It was stupid and thoughtless on my part and I’ve apologized a hundred times.”
“Lucille Brock?” Jonah asked.
Gary’s pained look confirmed the answer.
Uh-oh, Jonah thought. Lucille Brock. With her almost-too-generous lips, doe-like eyes, and plenty of body in all the right places she’d always reminded Jonah of a vintage pin-up girl. He had never been interested because, of course, she wasn’t Shay, but plenty of men were.
“You had a crush on her in high school, Gary. And she looks exactly the same now, if not better, so don’t pretend like you don’t think she’s attractive.”
Gary lifted his massive arms above his head and then brought them down with enough force to crack a coconut. “I had a crush on you, Ingrid. I’ve been in love with you since the eighth grade. Lucille had a crush on me.”
“You know how I feel about her,” Ingrid said and then looked at Jonah. “She is the biggest flirt in town and she shares clothes with her teenage daughter—not that that would really matter if her daughter dressed appropriately—but she doesn’t. She dresses like her mother—who looks like a...a...tramp.”
Ingrid turned back toward her husband. “Why did it have to be you, Gary? There were lots of other guys there.”
“We’ve been over and over this, Ingrid. I was closest. It lasted a matter of minutes and that was it.”
“Yeah, but she was wearing one of those dresses she prances around in and she had it hiked up around her neck. And a red thong! Wynona saw the whole thing.”
“I’m sure it wasn’t around her neck...her waist maybe. Wynona exaggerates.”
Ingrid’s jaw dropped as she glared at Gary. Jonah wouldn’t have been surprised to see fireballs shoot from her glossy blue stare. He realized the thought was irrational, but he was grateful they were trained on Gary.
After several long seconds she swiveled toward Jonah again. Jonah tried not to wince.
“Can you see he isn’t taking this seriously?”
Jonah wasn’t sure what to say.
Gary answered for him, “Because it’s not serious—it’s ridiculous.”
“My feelings are ridiculous?” Ingrid repeated incredulously. “Did you hear that, Jonah? I think that pretty much sums it up, don’t you? My husband and that tramp in front of half the town, but I’m being ridiculous?”
Gary’s beefy fingers were gripping the arms of his chair so tightly Jonah couldn’t understand how they managed to remain attached.
“It wasn’t half the town, it was a few of the guys.”
“And some of their wives and Wynona—hardly a few,” she added. “And the tramp.”
It was Gary’s turn to look at Jonah. “And there you have it—she’s divorcing me because Lucille Croft dresses inappropriately. Is that one of the choices on the paperwork there, Jonah? Reason for divorce—Lucille flirted with husband and she dresses like a tramp. Go ahead and check that box for us and we can get the paperwork started.”
“Uh...well, infidelity is certainly a reason, Gary, if that’s what this is about? Is, um...that what this is about?”
Gary’s face bloomed in angry shades of pink and purple. A vein bulged in his forehead along with the muscles in his neck. He stood up like he was going to storm out, but then sat back down again.
Ingrid began crying softly.
Jonah silently welcomed himself home to Rankins and wondered what in the world he’d signed up for.
CHAPTER SIX
THERE WAS SOMETHING familiar about her, Shay decided as she emerged from the Faraway Restaurant’s kitchen and spotted the woman standing by the hostess station. She tilted her head to look up, probably admiring the gigantic open beams that ran along the ceiling. They were pretty spectacular, if she did say so herself. Shay had designed the dining room, and was extremely proud of how the new addition had turned out.
Oiled and polished wood beams cut from Alaskan yellow cedar were spaced along the length of the A-shaped room, which was twenty-three feet from the floor to the highest point in the ceiling. The beams, each decorated with beautiful and intricate carvings, soared up to the point where they were secured to a much larger ridge beam. Her talented artist friend, Kella Jakobs had done all the carving.
Shay turned her focus back to the woman, who now seemed drawn toward the view, which wasn’t surprising. The views at the Faraway Inn were stunning and eventually enticed everyone.
Because of its ridge-top location, from nearly any spot at the inn you were offered a generous slice of breath-taking scenery; white-capped mountains, a vast expanse of wilderness, a picturesque stretch of the Opal River, or a truly stunning panorama of the bay and coastline. Every room had a view of something—summer reservations were made up to a year in advance for specific rooms and arguments were waged over which held the most spectacular vista.
“Hannah?” Her sister was walking by with a basket of napkin-wrapped silverware. “Who is that woman standing by the hostess station? Black skirt, purplish shirt, with the long brown hair?”
Hannah peered in that direction. “I’m not sure, but she reminds me of someone. Like an actress or something? She’s pretty.”
“I was thinki
ng more like someone we know.”
“Hmm. I hope she’s here for an interview though because she appears completely normal.” Shay smiled. “There’s no one else listed for an interview today, but I’ll go talk to her and see.”
The woman stilled as Shay approached, her smile frozen in place.
Shay reached out a hand. “Hello, how are you?”
The woman’s grip was warm and firm, if slightly clammy.
“Um, fine. You’re Shay, right?”
“Yes, have we met?”
“No, we haven’t. I’m Adele Mason. I recognize you from your photo on the Faraway Inn’s website.” She patted a hand on her skirt. “Sorry about the sweaty palm. I’m really nervous.”
Shay gave her what she hoped was a reassuring smile. “I understand. Don’t worry—it’s a quick interview. We’re pretty informal here at the Faraway Inn. Do you have serving experience?”
“Excuse me?”
“You’re here to interview for the server position, aren’t you?”
“Interview...?” She stared at Shay for an awkward moment and finally said, “I’m sorry. Interview. Yes...”
Shay repeated, “Do you have serving experience?”
“What?”
“Waitressing? Have you been a waitress before? A server? We’re not supposed to call waitresses, waitresses anymore, are we? A fact which I find kind of silly. I worked as a waitress all through college, and never expected anyone to call me anything but that. What’s wrong with being a waitress, I say. I loved it. You do have experience, right?”
She let out a surprised chuckle as if the meaning of the question finally dawned on her. “Yes, actually I do, but—”
“Did you bring a résumé?”
“No, I didn’t. I’m not—”
“References?”
“No, my situation is kind of complicated... I’m from out of town and I’m afraid I’m not as prepared as I’d like to be. I’m actually...” Her words trailed off and she suddenly reminded Shay of a frightened kitten. “I don’t know what I’m doing here. I mean, I know, but...”
Shay’s heart went out to the woman because it was obvious to her that Adele had come from some kind of a difficult situation. And Shay was both familiar and sympathetic with difficult situations.
“It’s okay.”
“It’s okay?”
“What I mean is—you don’t have to tell me.” Shay gave her another warm smile. “This is Alaska. People come here for all kinds of reasons and we generally don’t ask a lot of questions if they don’t want to answer them. Whatever your story is, as long as you’re not being chased by the FBI or hunted down by U.S. Marshals then we’re good. If it’s a psycho ex you’re running from though, I’ve got your back.”
The woman seemed beyond your typical job-interview nervous, which of course only made Shay curious about her past. But Shay meant what she said—she wasn’t one to judge and she wasn’t going to probe her with personal questions. Didn’t we all have our issues? Our secrets? Shay certainly did and she appreciated that her family and friends loved her in spite of the former even as she planned to maintain an unwavering death grip on the latter.
“Nope, no marshals, no agents and no exes—well, none that I know for sure are truly clinically psycho, but—”
Hannah sidled up with a warm smile and introduced herself, interrupting whatever Adele might have added. She complimented Adele’s lavender top and colorful, gem-encrusted shoes and Shay watched her relax under Hannah’s smooth small talk.
Apparently she’d been the one making the lovely Adele nervous if her demeanor with Hannah was any indication, which was odd because usually she was great with people. Maybe because she was the owner and Adele was seeking a job? That seemed possible, although Shay had to admit there was also something special about Hannah’s charm—when she chose to turn it on.
“So, how much experience do you have?” Hannah revisited Shay’s earlier question.
“Um, let’s see...about eighteen years.”
“Eighteen years!” Hannah exclaimed. “Shay, did you hear that? Years of experience. So, have you worked in busy restaurants? Cafes? Diners? Dives? Roadside pie stands?”
Adele let out a chuckle and said, “I think I’ve worked in all of the above at one time or another—except the pie stand. Although I have worked plenty of county fairs and craft shows. I can dip a mean corn dog and serve up a steaming hot funnel cake with a smile, even in one-hundred degree heat.”
Hannah and Adele shared a laugh.
Hannah placed a hand on her hip. “Okay, so switching gears now. Tell me, what’s your stance on kittens and puppies?”
Shay could tell that Adele was trying not to look at Hannah like she’d lost her mind. “Um, I love them. I have a dog—a schnauzer mix. He was a rescue dog. He has some issues, but I adore him. I drove up here all the way from Utah so I could bring him and he wouldn’t have to fly. He doesn’t like to be crated.”
“Poor baby,” Hannah said sympathetically. She then leaned over and sniffed the air next to Adele. “And that’s a lovely perfume you’re wearing.”
Hannah might be laying it on a bit thick, but Shay couldn’t help but say a silent prayer of thanks. Finally—someone with experience—who smelled nice and didn’t harm puppies or kittens, and hopefully didn’t steal or do drugs.
“Thank you.”
“And what did you say your name is?”
“Oh, I don’t think I said it—to you, I mean, but it’s Adele. Adele Mason.”
“Wait,” Hannah said with a snap of her fingers. “Utah. You’re the person who has been calling the inn, asking for Shay.”
Adele nodded, and Shay saw it again—that look. Like a flash of panic. Shay was certain that Adele was hiding something, which only made her want to help even more.
“Yes, that’s me.”
Shay felt terrible—she’d totally forgotten those phone messages from Utah. The “Cedar stress,” as she’d begun referring to Caleb and Jonah in her mind, was truly distracting her.
Jonah had been texting and calling, keeping her updated about Caleb. And of course Shay wanted updates, but that’s all she wanted. Somehow their conversations kept traveling off onto other subjects. Each time, in spite of her silent vow not to let it happen, their discussion seemed longer and never focused solely on Caleb.
“Adele, I’m so sorry I haven’t returned your calls. I’m not normally such a flake, I promise.” Shay inhaled a deep breath and blew it out. “I admire the fact that you came here to see me in person, so how about this? We’ll skip the interview, even though Hannah has already done most of it anyway, however unconventional it may have been.”
Hannah shrugged a shoulder as if to say “but I got the job done.”
And indeed she had.
“Can you start tomorrow? We’ll throw you in with the wolves—so to speak—and see how you do. If things go well—and I mean that both ways—for you and for us, then you’re hired no questions asked. You provide me with your particulars, whatever they may be. No judgments or reference checks on my end and we’ll go from there. How does that sound?”
“Great.” Adele smiled at her again and there was no mistaking that it was genuine. “Thank you, so much.”
Hannah couldn’t contain her excitement, probably due in large part to the idea of lightening her own workload. But Shay couldn’t really blame her for that. They’d all been working extra hard, and no one more than her and Hannah.
Hannah said, “I have a good feeling about you, Adele Mason from Utah.”
* * *
ONE CRAZY DAY at the inn seemed to follow another, but Shay was grateful for the chaos which had kept her mind engaged and distracted from speculating about Caleb—and thinking about Jonah, except when he texted her like he’d done two seconds ago: Hey, can you call when you get a sec?
She happened to have a free moment and was feeling better about her employment woes. Hannah’s instincts seemed right on where Adele was concerned. She
’d picked up on details quickly and already seemed as if she’d been working here for years.
Shay had also hired another maid for the inn and three more employees at the restaurant. Including Vince—wonderful Vince—he had been summer help the year before. He’d graduated from high school a month ago and had been hired on a fishing boat for the summer. Unfortunately, seasickness had plagued him, waylaying his commercial fishing plans. Shay was disappointed for him but more than happy to put him back on the payroll.
Now, if only she could get some respite from worrying where Caleb was concerned. That appointment with the specialist couldn’t come soon enough. She hit the talk button and waited for Jonah to answer.
“Hi,” he said. “That was fast. How are you?”
“Fine,” she said. “What’s up?”
“I hate to bother you but do you have any idea what could be wrong with Gramps’s washing machine? He insisted I call. He said you’ve helped him fix it before.”
“Was he trying to wash Francis’s bed again?”
“Francis’s bed? Hold on. What Gramps?”
Shay could hear muffled conversation and then, “He says it’s not off-balance. I was the one using it actually.”
“Did you trip the breaker?” Shay hoped not. She could fix a lot of things, but she really disliked working with electricity. She knew her fear of fire was irrational, but that didn’t mean she could make it go away.
A fire had burned the original Faraway Inn to the ground. Her grandpa Gus and his brother Eli had barely escaped.
Jonah’s tone took on an edge of concern, “Don’t worry, Shay, it’s not the breaker.”
“Huh. Well, that machine can be a little temperamental.” Shay looked at her watch. She had a couple errands to run in town anyway. “Okay, I’ll be there as soon as I can to take a look at it. Ask him if he needs anything from the pharmacy.”
She waited again while Jonah relayed the question. “He says he could use some more of those things you’ve gotten him for his teeth? I hope you know what that means because I don’t.”
