by Ross, Carol
EMILY WAS FEELING like her old self as she stepped into the meeting room where she was going to be giving her presentation to the Chamber of Commerce. It was her first official opportunity to try to turn the tide in Cam-Field’s favor. Amanda was right, she could do this. She just needed to get her head in the game. Just because she’d never been to Alaska didn’t mean that it was going to be that much different than any of the other scores of places she had worked before.
Her sketches did look good and she was glad she had done them. Her computer was still down and she had yet to hear from Jeremy, aside from some weird texts that had come through on her phone telling her how much he missed her, followed by a question about who her favorite employee was in the graphics department. Whatever. He could jump off a cliff for all she cared. She was starting to feel more like herself—much more confident and definitely more in control.
In addition to resting, eating the healthy food Bering had suggested she buy and sketching, she’d spent a great number of hours over the past few days on the telephone, which had miraculously started working to an adequate degree (although she still couldn’t put anyone on hold) trying to get to know some of the townspeople. She had purposely arrived several minutes early today so she could mingle and introduce herself in person.
She walked up to a handsome, athletic-looking man wearing dark blue jeans and a long-sleeved flannel shirt. It looked almost crisp and Emily got a kick out of the fact that it appeared to have been pressed. Perhaps, she thought wryly, an iron is what distinguishs everyday-wear flannel from the more professional for-the-office flannel. She extended a hand toward him and noticed that his thick black hair contained only touches of gray and, along with his trim physique, made him look much younger than he probably was. She’d noticed that wasn’t an uncommon trait among the men here.
“Mayor Calder? Emily Hollings. It is so nice to meet you finally. I’ve so enjoyed our phone conversations....”
* * *
BERING WATCHED THE INTERPLAY between Emily and the mayor and was relieved. She really had bounced back. She looked great—stunning, actually—and she seemed well on her way to recovery. There were some smart, tough and stubborn men and women who belonged to the Chamber and he hadn’t been looking forward to seeing her get eaten alive. Now, however, that he could see her in full swing, a new kind of concern was creeping up on him. She was good at this, much better, in fact, than he had anticipated.
Which was a relief on one hand, because he could quit worrying about her, but on the other hand, he was beginning to speculate about what kind of fight he was really in for. He might have his work cut out for him after all. And to think, because of his apparently misguided concern, he’d already solved one problem for her....
Bering hadn’t thought she was being paranoid about her office sabotage. He’d had a pretty good idea who was behind it all. He was well acquainted with the Bradbury family. Buster Bradbury’s son, Brodie, often helped out Oden Franks by taking care of property matters locally, including his own father’s rental properties. He was also a well-known amateur computer hacker. And it was no secret which side of the issue the Bradbury family was on.
Brodie and his wife ran the hardware store, which also carried the bulk of the town’s office supplies. He’d inherited the business from Buster, and they were all terrified that Cam-Field’s development of Rankins would bring in one of those big-box stores and drive them out of business. Bering had quickly discovered that Brodie had taken it upon himself to do his part to prevent that from happening. Bering had convinced Brodie that those kinds of tactics could very well get him into trouble and really wouldn’t make a difference in the final outcome anyway.
Though the sensible part of him said that an uncomfortable Emily shouldn’t make any difference to him, could maybe even give him an edge, this level playing field somehow made him feel better about the battle he now felt certain was commencing. He absolutely wanted to win—he had to win. The alternative was unthinkable. This town, this valley, was his lifeblood. His living depended on the pristine wilderness—clean, pure water where the fish thrived and the unspoiled country where wildlife teemed. Sure, he guided fishermen to the best fishing of their lives and he helped hunters pursue their dream trophies, but he was careful to do it in a way that respected the ecosystem.
He’d gone away to college in Anchorage and majored in environmental science and business, and he had done so with every intention of coming back to Rankins. He knew how fragile the balance between nature and man could be. In addition to volunteering for environmental cleanups, he also contracted with the Department of Fish and Game for the surveying of big game and predator numbers and the reporting of any threat to them that might arise. Bering was convinced that he’d never seen a greater threat than Cam-Field.
His father and his grandfather before him had made their livings by fishing commercially, but Bering had possessed a different vision from a very young age. He had rebelled against everyone who had told him he could never make a go of a guiding and outfitter business in this remote of a location. But he’d worked hard and he’d done it. And in the process, the business that he’d created continually generated new business for the town. His customers shopped at the local grocery store, they bought gear at Les Hartley’s sporting-goods store, they ate at the restaurants, they bought art from local artisans to take back home and on it went. And when they returned to their own unique corners of the world, they talked about James Guide and Outfitter Service, and they talked about the hospitality and the accommodations they enjoyed in Rankins.
Bering had no trouble with outsiders—tourists were his bread and butter. But the kind of people he wanted to come to Rankins weren’t the ones who worked for Cam-Field Oil & Mineral.
Now he watched Emily working the room and felt his concern shift solidly back to where it belonged—to Rankins.
Emily—eaten alive? Yeah, right.
Bering stood back and half listened as Wally Crumrind, the town’s pharmacist, raved about his new snow machine. He watched from the corner of his eye as Emily approached a small group of Chamber members, a couple of whom also happened to serve on the town council. He thought about going over and smoothly weaving his side into the discussion, but before he could extricate himself from the conversation he was having, he realized that she’d beaten him to it. In fact, he soon saw, they were all talking and laughing as though they were old friends. What was going on?
As the event continued to unfold, Bering felt his concern solidify into something even more ominous. Emily had called it, but he’d been too blinded by something—concern, curiosity, his own confidence—to see it. He was scared. Gone was the inattentive and scatterbrained woman he’d first met a few days ago, gone was the vulnerable and lost girl from the hospital, and gone was the questionably capable business executive with the understated sexiness that he’d come to know in the past few days.
In her place was a charming and professional, confident and articulate executive from Cam-Field Oil & Mineral. And it struck him right then and there that he’d vastly underestimated Emily Hollings on the professional front. If he didn’t know better, he would think he’d been good and thoroughly snowed. Bering felt a shift in his entire being; a knot formed in his stomach as Tag’s words of warning came back to him. For the first time since meeting her, he wondered if he really might be in trouble after all.
As she wrapped up the last of her speech, which had come off like more of a fireside chat, Bering knew without a doubt that Emily was a great deal more than good at her job. He was watching men and women he’d known all his life eating out of her hand like ponies at the petting zoo. She was charming and witty and, worst of all, full of statistics and dollar signs and promises of high-paying jobs and “community improvements.” And she’d pulled the hospital card. Rankins was in desperate need of updated medical facilities, and she’d basically just promised a few million of Cam-Fi
eld’s pocket change to the cause if the permitting process was successful.
And while Bering was relieved and, he grudgingly admitted to himself, impressed, he was also terrified. It was as if he’d been deluged by a bucket of ice-cold water. What was wrong with him? What had he been thinking?
Tag was right—Emily was Cam-Field in the flesh, and in spite of whatever personal concerns he may have had for her as a woman, the executive was going to have to be stopped. Cam-Field still had to be stopped. As the crowd began dispersing, Bering stood up and slipped silently from the room.
He looked from one end of the empty hallway to the other and quickly walked to the receptionist’s station, which currently stood empty. He plucked the telephone off the desk and rapidly tapped out a long-distance call.
“Jack? Hey, it’s me, Bering. Listen, I’m calling about the situation here in Rankins.... Uh-huh, yeah, I think we may have vastly underestimated the, uh, threat here....”
CHAPTER FIVE
THE MEETING WITH the Chamber of Commerce had gone unbelievably well. It had resulted in several appointments with community members and invitations to numerous social events. She’d scored an invitation from the mayor himself to attend the Rotary Club fund-raiser, which she’d learned was unequivocally the social event of the year in Rankins.
Even as she stood shivering on the sidewalk the next morning, Emily realized that for the first time since arriving in Rankins, she felt heartened. She could do this job. Amanda was right—it wasn’t going to be any more difficult than any other of the numerous challenges they’d faced. She was going to get it done however she needed to do it.
But exactly how did one go about securing posts in the frozen ground? The sign she’d requested from the graphics department had been delivered that morning (cementing the fact that it really was Jeremy who was the problem at home). They’d done an amazing job of conveying her ideas for the community center onto a large sign. She wanted to hang it right next to the sidewalk in front of her building so people walking by or coming in to meet with her would see it. She’d purchased a shovel and two wooden posts from the building-supply store and now she just needed to figure out how to get the thing put up in this frozen ground....
After what seemed like hours, she was still ineffectually chipping away at the snow with a shovel when the sound of a motor revving caught her attention. She turned and saw that Bering had pulled up next to the curb in his black pickup. He shut off the engine and got out.
“Need a hand?”
“No, I’m just hanging up a sign.” This was exactly what she needed right now, she thought with a surge of frustration, Bering happening upon her in another weak moment.
“Well, I drove by earlier and thought that might be what you were doing. How’s it going?” He placed a hand on one hip and peered down at the pitiful indentation she’d managed to carve in the snow.
“I’m getting there.”
“Really?” he asked doubtfully, not bothering to mask his amusement.
“Really, what?” she snapped. She was cold and yet sweaty underneath her jacket and winded from hacking at the icy snow and getting nowhere. She was irritable and in no mood for him to poke fun at her some more.
He looked at the sign leaning against the side of the building. “Well, isn’t this just the niftiest thing?”
“Yeah, I think it turned out well. The center’s going to be a great addition to your town.”
“Really? How so?”
She stared at him, wondering if he was toying with her again. How could anyone not see the benefit of something like this? “Well, for starters...it will give people a place to get together.”
He snorted ungracefully. “We have those places already.”
She looked around. “You do? Where?”
“Around here we call them homes and churches. And of course we have the VFW hall, the school, the inn, two restaurants, the café—”
“But there will be things to do here.”
“What kinds of things?”
“There will be a gym, with tennis and racquetball courts and a rock-climbing wall. You know, things for kids to do...”
“Look around you, Emily.”
She did. Then she looked at him and shrugged. “What are you—”
“Emily, we don’t need those things.” His tone sounded overly patient, patronizing. “We have things for kids to do. We have things for everyone to do. We have nature. We have ice hockey, skating, fishing, snowshoeing, snow-machining and skiing. We have hiking, biking, hunting and just your general scenery-gazing. For Pete’s sake, we don’t need a rock-climbing wall—we have actual rocks for people to climb on.”
“Bering, Cam-Field doesn’t want to take those things away. We want to add to them—”
He barked out a laugh that held no humor. “Emily, just...save it. I don’t want to hear your...propaganda.”
She bristled and faced him head-on. “Propaganda? Well, by all means, don’t let me keep you, then. What are you doing here anyway? Don’t you have a job?”
He exhaled slowly and Emily thought he might be trying to gather his patience. “I’m sorry. All I meant was that you don’t have to waste your time by trying to convince me—it’s never going to happen. But look, I got the impression from watching you scratch away at this snow that maybe you could use a hand. So I went home and grabbed a few tools. And yes, I have a job. I own a guide service.”
She remembered that, but she didn’t know exactly what such an enterprise entailed. “What do you guide?”
“People.”
She tipped her chin down and raised her eyes up toward his. “People—that’s clever. What types of outings do you guide these people on?”
He grinned and said, “Fishing trips, hunting trips, rafting, wildlife viewings and glacier excursions up the coast—things like that.”
“What kind of wildlife?”
“All kinds—moose, caribou, bear, wolves...”
“Grizzly bears?”
“They seem to be the most popular critter that people want to see.”
“Huh.”
“Huh, what?”
She shook her head. “I just can’t imagine what kind of life that must be....”
“It’s a great life. I’m happy for the most part—or I was anyway, until very, very recently when I discovered it was all in serious danger of being taken from me.”
She dismissed the insinuation. “You actually choose to go out and muck around in this snow-covered nightmare?”
Bering was staring at her as if she’d suddenly sprouted some kind of strange growth on her brow. His voice was incredulous when he asked, “You don’t think it’s beautiful here?”
The tone actually caused Emily to break into laughter. “Beautiful?” She thought about the fact that Sally had used the same word to describe the town. She ignored that—and the fact that she had drawn a postcard pretty version of it herself. Because that was just it—it was a picture. It didn’t reflect the reality—not really. “Bering, are you kidding me? This is the most godforsaken, desolate and bleak, not to mention cold and unfriendly, place that I’ve ever had the misfortune to encounter. And I’ve traveled to many, many parts of this country, but you know what my first thought was when I stepped off the plane here?” She answered without bothering to give him time to respond, “That I’d died and been sent to hell, which had quite literally frozen over along the way. I honestly don’t know, and cannot even imagine, how you people survive.”
His eyes bored into hers as he said, “Okay, first of all, it’s not always covered with snow. And second, we like the remoteness that you so disparagingly refer to as ‘desolation,’ which is exactly the point. We survive on what we have—and happily. We don’t need help. We don’t need Cam-Field or any other company coming here and exploiting us or
our resources. We’re fine just the way we are.”
He turned and strode over to his pickup. He removed some tools and went to work. In a matter of minutes he had the sign up. He returned the tools to his pickup and walked back to her.
“Thank you,” she said a bit grudgingly. “You didn’t have to do this when I know how you feel about me—about Cam-Field.”
“Emily, I’ve told you this doesn’t have to be personal. My dislike for Cam-Field doesn’t automatically extend to you. And besides, you would have figured out a way—eventually. I have the tools. I have the skills. And I find I rather enjoy helping a certain lady when she’s in distress....” He shrugged, an arrogant grin splashed across his face; it was a gesture that Emily was already familiar with. It rankled her and she suspected that he was doing it on purpose.
“Do you think it’s possible that you overestimate the value of your skills where said lady is concerned? You just said yourself I would have found a way eventually.”
“Nah, it doesn’t matter if I do. I know you secretly like the help.”
She rolled her eyes. “You are conceited, do you know that?”
“No, I’m not. I just have a realistic grasp of my value and importance. Now I have to go. I’m late for breakfast with your new pal, Mayor Calder.”
“Breakfast?”
“Yes, it’s the traditional morning meal.”
“Strategy discussion, huh? Tell the mayor I said hi.”
He raised his brows but didn’t respond to that comment. “Nice job last night, by the way,” he said.
“Thank you. You kind of disappeared after the meeting. I have to admit, I didn’t expect you to be so...silent.” Truth be known, it had made Emily nervous. She’d expected a fierce and direct rebuttal to her presentation, but instead she’d encountered nothing but his looming and scowling presence on the fringe, and immediately after the meeting he’d disappeared. It was nice, of course, as it had made her job that much easier, but it only made her curious about what he was up to.
