by Carol Ross
* * *
THE DAY OF THE FESTIVAL turned out to be a stunning display of winter—cold but clear and sunny. And as Bering strolled down the street that headed toward the waterfront, he took his time enjoying the view. A fresh skiff of snow blanketed the landscape and made the blue of the sky even more vibrant than usual.
The winter festival was an annual event that had started a few years back by a group of local businesses, clubs and artisans. Vendors sold food, local crafts and artwork, and merchants offered free samples or handed out information advertising their products or services. The event had grown tremendously the past few years due to the ice-carving competition, which had begun to increase in popularity and now drew people from all over the state. This year was looking to be the best turnout ever. It was a great way to bring in some revenue during the winter, which was traditionally a slower time for Rankins.
Vendors had been setting up since early that morning, and as Bering neared the spot where he knew Cam-Field’s booth was supposed to be, he was surprised to see no activity there. There was a trailer in its place, so he figured someone must be busy in there boiling hot dogs.
He grinned as he thought about how he’d managed this coup. His cousin Shay, who ran the Faraway Inn, had called him a couple days ago. She was going to be operating a booth promoting both the Faraway Inn and Bering’s guide business. They’d been chatting about it and she’d mentioned that her friend Susan, who was a teacher at the high school, was helping with the booth for the PTA. They’d planned on selling hot dogs to raise money but were thinking of changing to donuts because they were having a hard time finding enough buns. Shay had called her supplier in Glacier City, who was also the supplier for both the Cozy Caribou and Top Rock Café in town. Nobody, it seemed, could get hot-dog buns until Monday or Tuesday—after the festival.
Shay had thought that was odd and had mentioned it to her friend Darlene, who was in charge of the placement of the booths at the fair, where she’d learned exactly who had purchased every hot-dog bun in Glacier City.
Bering admired Emily’s creativity. He had to admit it was a good idea to insert herself into the community in this way—and with free food no less. He and Shay had quickly called a meeting of the Save Rankins Coalition. Shay had reserved a spot for their use and drawn up the brochure. Then members of the coalition had begun distributing them around town. It was perfect—who would want to eat a hot dog when they could have fish-and-chips? But even better than that, it would look as if Emily had stolen the free-food idea from them.
He hadn’t been able to help himself—he’d just had to send Emily a brochure. Bering imagined how annoyed she must have been when she’d opened the envelope and read his invitation. He nearly laughed aloud at the thought. But how upset could she get? She was the one who had assured him of her professionalism.
He loved this town. In spite of the fact that people often knew your business (or thought they did) and the rumor mill ground strong, it was worth it. And, as proven by today’s victory, often those close connections came in quite handy.
The ice carvers had already started, so Bering slowly wound his way toward the water’s edge, where they had set up that morning. He figured that was why there was such a crowd down there already. But as he neared the location, he could see that a throng of people were gathered around something else. It looked like...flames?
A fire pit?
He glimpsed a female figure bustling around the tables that had been placed around its perimeter. Emily? What was she doing? Serving something...but it didn’t look like hot dogs, unless she was serving them out of cups. As he continued studying the scene, the crowd parted enough for him to spot a brightly painted banner that read Brats and Brew Courtesy of Cam-Field Oil & Mineral.
All he could do was gape as he took in the scene: cozy-looking flames burning in a huge rock-encased fire pit, delectable smells wafting from its direction, people crowded around talking and laughing, eating and drinking, courtesy of Cam-Field. And with a smiling and charming and witty Emily mingling with them all.
He heard a rustle and looked down to see that his cousin Shay was standing beside him. She crossed her arms over her chest and didn’t say a word. They watched in silence for a few moments.
“Free beer?” Bering finally asked. “She’s giving away free beer?”
“No. Not free beer, Bering—free Grizzly Quake microbrew. You know how long the line was to get into Grizzly Quake Pub the last time I was in Glacier City?” She quickly answered her own question, “Three hours. And now here it is, right here in Rankins—and free no less. And bratwurst from Cowen and Co.—your choice of moose, caribou or good old-fashioned pork. They come already cooked but you can get them served with these cool metal roasting sticks—made by Kella Jakobs.”
Bering knew Kella Jakobs. She was a local artist who specialized in metal sculpture. Her work was in very high demand. He owned some of her pieces himself. He imagined that by the look of things, she was probably doing a booming business at her booth today.
Shay continued, “So you can crisp your dog if you want to—over the fire pit. The roasting sticks are for sale if you want to keep one, which everyone does, so they can roast their giant-size handmade marshmallows, too. That’s what’s in those bins over there.” She pointed toward yet another crowd off to one side.
Bering looked over but didn’t say a word.
“We’ve been beaten at our own game, Bering.”
“I see that, Shay.”
“How did they put this together so quickly?”
Bering had to hand it to Emily. He never would have believed she could counter this well and so quickly. Not only was she obviously resourceful, she was also extremely creative—and downright industrious. And he had to own the fact that it was due partly to his own mistake, too. He’d underestimated his opponent yet again and tipped his hand. He should never have sent her that invitation....But how could he possibly have imagined that she would throw this...this...neighborhood bonfire party in response?
Bering glanced down at Shay. “How are we doing with the fish-and-chips?”
“Pfft,” she scoffed. She pointed at the ground. “I’m standing here, aren’t I? I told two of the girls they could go home already. I caught Tag eating over here about an hour ago, and when I asked him what he thought he was doing, he said that he can have fish-and-chips anytime he wants at the Caribou, but Cowen’s moose brats he can only get in Glacier City.”
Bering shook his head, his appreciation for Emily’s ingenious scheme growing by the second. “Not to mention the Grizzly Quake...”
“Oh, yeah, the first one is free, then you have to pay. But you should see the cool souvenir pub glass it comes in. I was thinking of buying one myself.”
“What are people saying about Cam-Field?”
“They’re not saying anything, Bering. That’s the problem. What are we going to do?”
Bering’s gaze landed on Emily once again. She looked cold, he thought, as he watched her clench the collar of her jacket tightly together with one hand. She looked up then and their gazes collided. Hers held an unmistakable look of triumph. He tipped his head in acknowledgment and hoped his expression didn’t make him out to be a sore loser.
Then she held up a beer. Was that a toast or an invitation? He immediately decided to accept defeat gracefully and take it as the latter.
Bering shrugged a shoulder and answered Shay, “Go have a beer, I guess.”
* * *
IT WAS SOON CLEAR to Emily that Bering wasn’t going to let one defeat, no matter how crushing, decide the war. The Save Rankins Coalition countered with a rally, which Emily had to admit scored him a moderate victory. They marched from one end of town to the other with signs and banners. They handed out anti-Cam-Field literature. They picketed the mayor’s office, the homes of the town-council members and, for some reason she didn’t quite understand—Emily’s office.
She had hot chocolate and coffee from The Top Rock Café and bak
ed goods from the Donut Den delivered to the entire crowd. That quieted their chants of “Cam-Field can’t!” and “We don’t need your corporate greed!” only long enough for the crowd to scarf down a few maple bars and apple fritters.
Opposition calls, letters and emails came pouring in, although Emily had to laugh at the three who had added thank-you notes for the refreshments Cam-Field had provided during the rally. This town was something else, she thought, politeness and consideration even in the throes of combat.
Emily considered that little show of town devotion as a win on Bering’s part, and obviously he did, too, as the coalition scheduled another rally for the following Friday. But Emily had managed to make a few allies of her own and was alerted to the plan.
“Friday night,” Emily said to Amanda as she hung up the phone. “That was Piper Davidson from the newspaper.”
“Why is Piper on our side?”
“That girl has got aspirations.” Emily pointed at herself and added, “She’s making connections, and wisely so.”
“And it’s not just a rally—he’s got a guest speaker. Evan Cobb. He’s scheduled to give a speech at the high-school gym and then they’re going to rally afterward, by candlelight down on the waterfront, to remind everyone of the incredible view of Rankins without Cam-Field’s oil platform desecrating the horizon—or some nonsense like that.”
“Evan Cobb?” Amanda looked alarmed. They knew Evan Cobb very well. He was a renowned environmentalist and Cam-Field protestor.
“Mmm.”
“By candlelight?” she asked.
“Yep, they’ve got, like, a thousand biodegradable floating-candle things. They’re going to float them out into the bay or something. Ugh.”
“Yikes.”
“He’s not even a real scientist,” Emily said with annoyance.
“But he’s an amazing speaker,” Amanda countered. “And we both know that how you say it is almost as important as what you say. And imagine how beautiful all those candles floating out into the bay will be....”
Emily felt the apprehension sink into her along with the silence. She allowed it to take hold—welcomed it. She did some of her best thinking this way—keyed up, wheels spinning...
“We can’t let this happen,” Amanda finally said.
Emily tapped a finger to her pursed lips in thought. “I know, but we can’t counterpicket, because we don’t have the numbers. And even a lot of the people who are with us secretly wouldn’t support us publicly at this point. And how pathetic would we look down there while they had their pretty candle moment? We can’t compete with that.”
“Too bad we couldn’t call in a snowstorm,” Amanda joked. “It would keep Cobb from getting up here and it would smother all those candles.”
Emily’s eyes darted up to meet hers. “Amanda, that’s a great idea.”
“Emily, I have the utmost faith in you, but even you have no pull with Mother Nature. You do know that, right?”
* * *
“SHAY, CALM DOWN,” Bering said into the phone. “She did what?”
“She booked Rushing Tide to perform on Friday at the Cozy Caribou.”
“Clark and Ezra Mayfield’s band?”
“Yep, and at the Caribou. Why would Tess say yes to that?”
In spite of his annoyance, Bering was impressed. Clark and Ezra Mayfield were Rankins’s two most famous hometown-boys-done-well. He had gone to school with the brothers and considered them friends even though they had moved away right after high school to pursue their music careers. They were wildly popular in Alaska, and growing more so around the rest of the country every day. Short of booking two NFL teams to skirmish at the Rankins High School stadium, he couldn’t think of anything better to draw attention away from his rally.
“Tess probably didn’t know who was behind it. Emily Hollings obviously has connections that reach beyond the oil industry.”
“There’s no way to counter this one, Bering. We’re going to have to call off the rally.”
“Yep, that’s okay, Shay. We’ll reschedule.”
“But not with Evan Cobb. That’s the only date he had available for months. We only got him by absolute luck—and even then I had to practically promise my firstborn.”
“We’ll schedule something else. She can’t book a band every night for the next month.”
“Are you sure about that, Bering? This woman is clearly a force to be reckoned with.”
Bering was quickly realizing just how accurate that assessment was. “I’ll figure something out,” he said, secretly glad to have another opportunity to spend some time with her....
* * *
EMILY TOLD HERSELF that her attendance at the concert had nothing to do with the fact that Bering would be there. Laurel, who had alerted her to the fact that the Mayfield boys were going to be in town, had also informed her that they were friends and classmates of hers—and Bering’s.
She decided to go, briefly, just to make sure that it was going smoothly. She knew it wouldn’t be the best venue for campaigning—not only would people not be in the mood to discuss business, but it would be extremely difficult to do so in the noisy atmosphere anyway.
The music was in full swing when she slipped into the crowd at the Cozy Caribou. She was impressed by the turnout and by the Caribou’s transformation. The wall that normally separated the restaurant from the bar had been removed. A stage was set up in the back and tables were scattered around an opening in the middle, which was serving as a dance floor. Twinkle lights had been strategically strung around. It almost looked like a real club one might find in any city, albeit with much more casually attired patrons.
She knew Amanda was already in the middle somewhere with Tag. She spotted Laurel, who had told her she would meet her, near one side of the bar.
“Hey, you made it,” Laurel said as she finally managed to wend her way through the crowd.
Emily gestured around her. “This is fantastic.”
Laurel nodded knowingly and said, “Tess knows how to throw a party. She owned a nightclub in Seattle years ago. She sold it and moved up here like fifteen years ago. She transforms it like this for special events like parties, or even an occasional wedding.”
Emily pointed at the stage. “And these guys are great.”
“They are. They are going to be famous someday. I’m sure of it. They are the nicest guys, too—haven’t lost that hometown decency that I love about most of our guys.”
Someone grabbed Laurel’s attention, so Emily turned toward the bar to order a drink and found herself face to chest with Bering.
“Hey,” he said.
“Hi.” She grinned up at him. “I’m surprised to see you here. Aren’t you supposed to be swimming in the bay tonight or something like that?”
He was clearly trying not to smile, though doing a poor job of it. “Our rally was canceled.”
“Really? That’s too bad. Why?”
“You are something else, do you know that?”
She grinned at him warmly and didn’t know what to think. There were sparks of attraction—maybe—in his eyes. “What does that mean?”
“You, I have discovered, are downright clever. And...” His voice trailed off as he folded his arms over his chest and thrummed the fingers of one hand against his biceps.
“Thank you—I think.”
“I’m not finished. You might not thank me when I’m done.”
“Uh-oh.”
“You are also sneaky and sly and underhanded, and clearly you are getting help from one or more traitorous townsfolk.”
“I like sneaky and sly. They both imply intelligence and ingenuity.”
“Both of which you obviously possess—in excess.”
His look was appreciative and Emily felt herself warm at the compliment, even though she still wasn’t sure if it was supposed to be such. “As to underhanded, how is this different than what you did to me—or attempted to do to me—at the winter festival?”
“Well...I h
ave righteousness on my side.”
She scoffed. “I have economic growth on my side.”
“Which is fine in and of itself, but at what cost?”
He suddenly looked way too serious and Emily didn’t want to spoil the mood by engaging in a fruitless conversation. She skirted the subject. “You obviously have spies, too.”
“Emily, the whole town is on my side. This place is full of spies. Look around you.”
She did, but she didn’t see anything that hinted at overt surveillance. “Looks like everyone is having a really good time to me.”
“That they are—thanks to you.”
She cocked her head and looked up at him. “Even you?”
He bent his head until his lips were nearly even with her ear. Emily inhaled sharply as his warm breath caused a shiver to erupt along her skin.
“Yes, Emily, especially me...”
* * *
THE NEXT WEEK was more of the same. The Save Rankins Coalition held a meeting on Tuesday, which they opened to the public, and signed up new members. The rally was rescheduled and held on Wednesday evening, but it didn’t pack the same punch without the prominent guest speaker. And they took a double hit as the candle thing didn’t work out, either, because as Amanda had initially wished for, an unexpected snow flurry blew in. Bering told Emily that his cousin Shay had accused her of paying for some kind of a satellite snow machine to ruin the event. She told Bering to tell his cousin to be careful about giving her ideas....
Shay held a cheese-and-wine tasting at the Faraway Inn on Thursday, where, according to Piper Davidson, Bering, several other local businessmen, prominent citizens and a state representative mingled with the crowd and bashed Cam-Field’s environmental record.
But Emily packed her schedule even tighter than the Save Rankins Coalition. She did a presentation for the Women’s Club on Monday, one at the VFW meeting on Tuesday and a Q-and-A at the electric co-op on Wednesday. She and Amanda went around town dropping off stacks of new informational brochures on Thursday. And in between them all, she had appointments with citizens, lunch with the mayor and the planning commissioners, and dinner with the president of the Chamber of Commerce and two board members from the local Building Contractors Association.
