“That’s quite a gift. Must be a special guy.”
“He is. But it’s not what you think. It’s a thank-you from a fisherman who had a heart attack two hundred miles from the nearest hospital. We were in the middle of a series of nasty storms that made picking him up a little dicey, and I was the only one willing to try. He’s convinced I saved his life. His wife sent me the earrings a week after he got home.”
“Obviously he lived.”
“Surprisingly. He was in pretty bad shape. But he’s a stubborn old goat—who just happens to own half the high-rise buildings in Toronto.”
“Other than you demonstrating a complete lack of regard for your own life, how’s the flying business going?”
Angie took a long drink of tea before answering. “Unbelievable. We’re about to open a satellite office in Fairbanks. I stuck my neck out—way out—to take advantage of a deal someone offered me on three cargo planes, which are scheduled to be delivered by the end of the month. We already have five new pilots hired and contracts for hauling that will take us through the winter. Now we just need to get the office set up and operating and we’ll be good to go.
“As far as the operation in Anchorage, the flightseeing and fishing-lodge businesses have grown twenty percent in the past four years. Seems the people who could afford to come north before the recession still can. Only now they’re bringing friends.”
“Wait a minute,” Carrie said. “Did I hear you right when you said ‘we’?”
Angie shook her head. “I should have known you’d pick up on that.”
“So spill.”
“If I tell you now, you’re just going to have to hear it all over again when we get to the house. Tell me about Chicago. Still love living in the Windy City?”
“I can’t imagine being anywhere else. Dealing with the snow gets to be a little much around March, but then spring arrives and all is forgiven.”
“I’ve decided I’m going to try to talk all of you into coming to Anchorage for our next reunion. I want to show you why I fell in love with Alaska.”
“All those mosquitoes and outhouses—no thanks. If I’m going on a vacation, I want it to be someplace with a beach and beautiful, sexy waiters.”
“I don’t want to step all over your stereotypes, but I happen to have indoor plumbing. And I have triple-pane windows that look out to see beluga whales in Turnagain Arm. On the opposite side of the house, I get to wave good-morning to my resident moose and her baby.”
“What about the grizzly bears?”
“Brown bears,” Angie said. “When you come north, it’s important that you sound like a local.”
“Have you ever had a ‘brown’ bear try to break in through your triple-panes?”
Angie swirled the remaining tea in her cup, looked at Carrie, and grinned. “Personally, I think they’re a lot less dangerous than the men who hand out beach towels at resorts.”
Carrie glanced at the clock over the arrival board. “Time to go.” She stood and shouldered her computer bag, then gave in to the spontaneous urge to hug Angie again. “Why is it I have no idea how much I miss you until I see you?”
Angie’s eyes lit up as she returned the hug. “I know. Me too.”
Bridget and Danielle and Angie were the sisters Carrie had never had but desperately wanted when she was growing up. They’d stood by her through heartbreak, without knowing how or why or who had caused the pain, and through bosses who expected more than she was willing to give. They gave advice when she asked and never had their feelings hurt when she didn’t listen.
She’d been the one who had made it impossible for them to get together the year before, putting up roadblocks for every solution. They were forgiving and understanding. She was going to need every ounce of both now that she’d finally decided it was time to tell them the real reason she had been such a pain in the ass about so many things for such a long time.
Chapter 3
Danielle searched the drawers for a corkscrew in the surprisingly state-of-the-art kitchen. When they’d arrived at the beach house, she’d been instantly charmed by everything from the rustic appearance on the outside to the attention to detail on the inside. She especially loved the English gardens filled to overflowing with a rainbow of blooms. The walkways through the garden and around the house were moss-covered brick, the garden gate a whimsical wrought-iron creation more art than function.
The house was bright and comfortable, with orchids in every room. The furniture, something between modern and antique, featured an overstuffed sofa and armchairs that encouraged lounging. The ocean view through the sliding-glass door provided the perfect background. Danielle could easily imagine herself curled up with her thoughts and a cup of coffee with the accompanying music of gulls singing soprano and the waves a steady baritone.
She loved Denver—the mountains, the plains, the skiing, the Broncos, the Nuggets. But she could easily be seduced into a summer affair with this place. The coast drive that she and Bridget had taken before heading for the airport to pick up Carrie and Angie had been beautiful.
Carrie, looking as stylish in shorts and T-shirt as she had in her Chicago business suit, held up an Ah-So cork puller. “Is this what you’re looking for?”
“Well, no,” Danielle said. “But it will do.” Struggling with the tines, she added, “We open bottles the old-fashioned way in Denver.”
“Let me,” Carrie said, reaching for the bottle. “I had two and a half dates a while back with someone who was a self-proclaimed wine expert. Supposedly this is the only way anyone who knows anything about wine would take out a cork.”
She slipped the two thin metal prongs between the cork and the neck of the bottle, gave the handle a twist, and brought out the intact cork. “And there you have it,” she said.
Danielle lined up four large-bowled wineglasses while Angie added crackers to the cheese and fruit plate. When Danielle started to pour, Angie held up her hand, “None for me.”
Danielle stopped and studied her for several long seconds, her eyes narrowed in thought. Finally, she announced, “You’re pregnant?”
Angie let out an exasperated sigh. “That gave me away?”
An immediate chorus of shouts and laughter, gasps and whoops filled the kitchen.
“How did you really know?” Angie asked.
Danielle hugged her a second time while her emotions ricocheted between joy and jealousy. “The only time I’ve seen you turn down a glass of wine was when you were driving, and you’re not going anywhere tonight. Hell, I’ve seen you drink wine in the shower. That leaves only one other thing that could get you to turn down a bottle of”—she held the bottle to read the label—“Kapcsandy Grand Vin Cabernet Sauvignon.”
“There’s always cirrhosis,” Angie suggested, grinning as she tugged on an earring.
“Not for another decade. And now, maybe never.” Danielle put the bottle on the counter and stepped out of the way for Bridget to give Angie another hug.
“That’s fantastic news.” Bridget leaned back and looked at her. “It is, isn’t it?”
Angie laughed. “Yes.”
Carrie put her hands on Bridget’s shoulders and gently moved her out of the way. “My turn.”
She held Angie tight, rocking her back and forth. “I’m so, so happy for you.” Then she held her at arm’s length and stared deeply into her eyes. “I’m assuming this wasn’t an immaculate conception? Do we get to hear about the father?”
“Was he the one who gave you those ostentatious rocks on your earlobes?” asked Danielle.
“Time for that later,” Bridget said, the tail of her new blue-and-yellow Hermes scarf artfully draped across her shoulder. She came forward and kissed Angie on one cheek and then the other. Soon they were all crying tears of joy.
“Thank you,” Bridget said, wiping her tears with her hands and then her hands on her too-big shorts.
“For what?” Angie answered, honestly confused.
“For making us aunts. I’
ve always wanted to be an aunt, but it’s really hard when you don’t have any brothers or sisters.”
The tears turned to laughter again. And then another group hug. The hug didn’t end until Danielle said she had to either break free to get a tissue or wipe her nose on Carrie’s sleeve.
Chapter 4
“No gossiping without me,” Carrie yelled from the back bedroom, where she’d gone to get a sweater.
Danielle added warmed Brie to the platter, then topped it with a mound of fig jam. “It took us a year to get Miss Chicago out here, and now look at her. She’s acting like a mother hen tucking her chicks under her wing.”
“Have you ever noticed how many of us wound up in cities that start with the first letter of our names?” Angie took plates out of the cupboard and added napkins from a tray on the counter.
“I can’t say that’s something I’ve spent a lot of time thinking about,” Danielle said.
“It’s just kinda strange, don’t you think? I’m from Anchorage, Carrie is from Chicago, you’re from Denver . . .”
“And Bridget is from Sacramento.”
“But my middle name is Sarah,” Bridget said. “That should count for something. Did I ever tell you what Miles called us?”
“I’m not sure I want to hear this,” Danielle said.
“The Alphabet Girls.”
The statement was met with loud groans.
Bridget laughed. “Don’t worry, it wasn’t said with affection.”
Danielle balanced the two cheese trays with one hand, utensils and napkins with the other, and headed outside. Not knowing Angie was pregnant, they’d bought a large wheel of Brie at the gourmet grocery store where they picked up supplies that morning. Angie said she couldn’t eat it, but as long as they kept the cheeses separate, it wouldn’t be a problem.
The sun had slipped behind a low-lying cloud, changing it from ivory to a deep orange and creating rays of yellow and pink that escaped into the sapphire blue sky. For the first time in almost three years Danielle felt a sense of peace. And hope.
They settled into the cushioned patio chairs, Danielle and Carrie insisting Angie and Bridget take the ones with footstools.
“I’m pregnant, not an invalid,” Angie said. “Look at me.” She patted her stomach. “You can’t tell whether this is a baby bump or one too many pizzas.”
“Well, I’m going to take advantage of any pampering you want to send my way,” Bridget said. “When my mother came out to take care of me, she had it in her head that if I didn’t do as much as I could for myself I’d give up.”
“How did you discover the lump?” Angie asked, her hand still resting on her belly.
“I didn’t. I went in for a mammogram after my sister discovered she had the BRCA2 genetic mutation. Interestingly enough, I didn’t have the mutation, just the cancer.”
Danielle cut a wedge of Brie and put it on a wheat cracker, adding a drop of fig jam. “Why did your sister decide to get tested?”
“She read an article about families with a high incidence of premenopausal breast and ovarian cancer that said it could be tied to two inherited gene mutations. There’s a lot of controversy about being tested if you don’t have a high incidence of early cancer in your family, but my mom’s cancer was enough for my sister, and once she found out she had the gene mutations, she opted for a double mastectomy. When you’re married to a doctor, and that doctor is as paranoid as you are, it opens doors.”
“What kind did your mom have?” Angie asked.
“Ovarian—in her late thirties. She was incredibly lucky that it was discovered as early as it was.”
Carrie reached for a piece of smoked Gouda that she broke in half, skipping the cracker. She chewed slowly, as if counting every up-and-down movement of her jaw. Despite going to the gym three times a week and running on the other four days, it took a lot more effort to remain a size 0 now than it had five years ago. And in the work world she inhabited, there was an unspoken but recognized credo that success and appearance went hand in hand. The glass ceiling was for those who believed hard work alone was the road to power. She shuddered to think what she’d have to do to maintain this size when she turned fifty. “And you’re okay now?” she asked Bridget.
“I should be.”
As if able to satisfy her growing hunger vicariously, Carrie put three different cheeses and a variety of crackers and fruit on a plate and handed it to Bridget. “What do you mean should be?”
“Like everything else, there are no guarantees.” Bridget tried to sound lighthearted, but with tears pooling in her eyes and the constriction in her throat from trying to hold them back, she couldn’t pull it off.
“Is it really just a fluke that you got this, or is it possible there’s something going on that’s tied to that genetic thing?” Danielle was still standing, though at six feet tall, she might have been more accurately described as looming.
“That’s the double Jeopardy question in the ‘Mysterious Medical Facts’ category,” Bridget said. “I’ve seen more shrugs over that than any other part of my treatment.”
Danielle moved her chair and sat down to face her friends rather than the van Gogh sky. “How do you function with that hanging over your head? Are you going to any support groups?”
Bridget looked around at her three best friends. “I have the best support group I could ever have right here with me now.”
Angie unfolded her napkin and wiped her eyes. “We’ve been together less than half a day and I’m already dehydrated from all the crying.”
“It’s the pregnancy,” Carrie said. “My cousin was on an emotional roller coaster the entire time. Up one day, down the next. Almost drove her husband nuts.”
Bridget pulled the scarf off her head and ran her hands over her scalp. “This itching is going to drive me nuts.”
“Let me,” Danielle said, getting up to stand behind Bridget. She made a show of preparing, cracking her knuckles and then stretching before she ran her hands over what looked like a teenage boy’s face a year before he required a razor. “Hmmm . . . this is kinda sexy. I think I’m getting turned on.”
Bridget laughed. She didn’t seem aware when the laughter turned to tears. “I’ve missed all of you so much.” She reached up to take one of Danielle’s hands. “Thank you for being my friends.”
“Friends who will stop speaking to you if you ever keep something like this a secret again,” Danielle said.
“I’m hoping there is no ‘like this’ again. But I do promise—no more secrets.”
Danielle was trying to hide her own guilt when she saw Carrie cringe. For just a second. There was no doubt something in the exchange had made her uncomfortable. “And no more cancer.”
Bridget wiped her tears. “I’ll do my best.” She looked down and saw broken bits of crackers scattered across her denim shirt and started picking them off one by one, gathering them in the palm of her other hand and then tossing the whole into the bushes. “I’m tired of talking about me. I want to hear all about this baby you’re having, Angie. So tell.”
“She, or he, is predicted to make an appearance outside the womb sometime between six and seven months from now. I have a feeling my doctor refuses to pin it down any closer than that because he thinks I’ll be all over him if the baby shows up early or late.” She grinned. “He’s a good friend and knows me too well for me to get away with bullying him. He also knows I have a lot to do to get the business ready, including finding another pilot to cover for me for the two months I won’t be flying.”
“Two?” Carrie and Danielle said in unison.
“I’ll fly until my belly gets in the way, and then when the baby is born, Darren and I will switch off child care with his mother and sister, who will fly in from Kodiak Island. That’s where they live. I have a feeling his dad and brothers will be involved in the hands-on care too. They’re that kind of family, and this is going to be the first grandchild.”
“Darren?” a chorus of voices repeated.
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br /> She blushed. “Okay, so you got it out of me.”
“And it was damn hard to do too,” Carrie said, laughing. “Like sticking a pin in a balloon.”
“We want to know everything,” Bridget insisted. “This is a very big deal, and you’re not allowed to leave out any details. No matter how small.”
Angie tucked her hair behind her ears. The instant her index finger brushed against one of the diamonds, she fluffed her hair out again. “His full name is Darren Francis Langley Jr. He’s a pilot—and the baby’s father. We’ve known each other for a couple of years but didn’t start dating until a couple of months ago. He’s as excited about the baby as I am and keeps trying to talk me into getting married before she or he is born, but I’m—” She shrugged. “I don’t know. I’m just not as sure it’s the best thing to do right now.”
“What’s he like?” Bridget said. “Remember, I have to get my romance secondhand these days, so don’t skimp on details.”
“He’s tall, has really thick, wavy black hair—and the most incredible blue eyes. He was born and raised on an isolated inlet on Kodiak Island and has four younger brothers and one sister. They’re beside themselves that their big brother is going to be a daddy, especially his little sister. She and her mother have already started a baby quilt.”
“Awww. . . .” Bridget sighed. “I like them already.”
“What about Darren’s dad?” Danielle asked. “Is he as enthusiastic?”
Angie laughed. “I’d been around him all of two hours when he told me that if Darren didn’t get a ring on my finger before the baby was born, he and Darren’s mom were going to make arrangements to adopt me.”
“Wow,” Carrie said. “Those Alaska people don’t hold back.”
“No, they don’t. It’s one of the things I love about being there.”
“Back to the romance,” Bridget insisted, tying her scarf around her head to ward off the cool breeze coming in with the tide.
“We didn’t hit it off at first. Darren insists I was standoffish and totally oblivious to his charms. My version is that he came across as cocky and full of himself.”
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