Debbie Macomber - Alaska Home

“A baby,” Ben repeated, grinning broadly. “How does Mitch feel about this?”

“When I first told him, he was floored, but it didn’t take him long to adjust. The baby’s due in the spring. We told Chrissie this evening, and she’s thrilled. I can tell she’s going to be a wonderful big sister.”

“Have you told your mother and father?”

“Oh, yes. They’re thrilled.”

“I’m thrilled for you, too, sweetheart.”

“It still takes some getting used to. I’m just becoming accustomed to being a wife and stepmom, and now I’m about to be a mother.”

Ben chuckled. “Try finding out that you’re a father at my age—that’s what I call a bombshell. As for your little one, personally, I think of the baby as a delightful surprise.”

Bethany smiled, relaxing against the cushions. “What’s this wild rumor I’ve been hearing about your taking on an assistant?”

“It’s true,” Ben said. “Mariah Douglas is coming to work with me.”

“But... I thought she was the secretary for the O’Hallorans.”

“She is—was. What I understand, she’s already handed in her notice. Sawyer’s annoyed with me, but it’s not my fault—Mariah approached me. The way I figure it, she already had her heart set on leaving Midnight Sons. I tried to convince her to stay with the O’Hallorans, but she wouldn’t hear of it.”

“You’d think Christian would be pleased. He’s been looking for a way to be rid of her from the moment I met him,” Bethany recalled.

“Apparently he’s had a change of heart.”

“Isn’t that just a like a man?” Bethany muttered, shaking her head. “They don’t know what they want.”

* * *

Christian had never been this eager to get back to Hard Luck. In the past several days he’d talked to Sawyer half-a-dozen times. And every time, he’d hung up frustrated—and confused.

As far as he could grasp, Sawyer had released Mariah from serving out her full two-week notice, and the woman his brother had referred to as “the best secretary they’d ever had” was gone.

Scott and Susan were just as eager to be home. Christian had collected them from his mother’s, and Ralph Ferris flew into Fairbanks to meet their commercial flight. The short hop between Fairbanks and Hard Luck felt longer than the flight from Vancouver to Anchorage.

By the time the plane touched down in Hard Luck, Christian had his conversation with Mariah all figured out.

Sawyer and Abbey were at the airfield waiting for Scott and Susan. The kids leaped out of the plane and raced toward their parents, full of talk about their visit with Grandma Ellen and Grandpa Robert.

Christian waited impatiently for a moment alone with Sawyer. “Where is she?” he asked abruptly.

Sawyer blinked at him, wearing a baffled expression. “Oh, you mean Mariah.”

Who else would he have been referring to? “Yes, I mean Mariah.”

“Ben’s, I’d guess. She spends every day there, now that she no longer works for us.” Judging by the edge in Sawyer’s voice, he still seemed to place the blame squarely on Christian’s shoulders. He’d settle the issue with his brother later, Christian decided.

“Who’s minding the office?” Surely Sawyer wasn’t so irresponsible as to leave it unattended. The flight service had grown by thirty percent in the past year, thanks partly to the boom in population. An answering machine no longer met their needs, and Sawyer knew that.

“Lanni’s agreed to step in for now, but she’s got her own work, you know. I told her it wouldn’t take you long to find Mariah’s replacement.”

“Me?” he exploded. He’d left for a few measly days, and meanwhile his brother let all hell break loose, then calmly announced it was his responsibility to set everything right.

“Yeah, you,” Sawyer returned, eyes snapping. “If you’ll recall, you spent the better part of a month interviewing job applicants. I don’t even know where you filed the résumés.”

“I didn’t file them. Mariah did.”

“Ask her, then. All I can say is we need to hire someone and quick. It isn’t fair to Lanni to keep her tied up at the office. She’s got better things to do with her time than answer our phones.”

“You might have discussed it with me first,” he argued.

“I would’ve if you’d been here,” Sawyer said in a disgusted voice.

Christian didn’t deign to respond. It was clear that he wasn’t going to get anywhere with Sawyer when his brother was in this cantankerous frame of mind. Sawyer unfairly blamed him for Mariah’s sudden need to become a waitress. Well, he wasn’t going to accept the blame!

As soon as Christian had dropped off his suitcase at home, he headed over to the Hard Luck Café. First thing he noticed when he walked in the door were the tablecloths—not plastic, either. A vase of wildflowers on each table added a touch of color and warmth. On the chalkboard, where Ben wrote the daily dinner special, someone had drawn yellow daisies.

Ralph Ferris sat at one of the tables, reading the menu, which also looked new. They acknowledged each other with a brief nod.

Christian stepped up to the counter the way he always did and pulled out a stool. He nearly slid onto the floor—the stools had been newly padded and recovered in shiny black vinyl.

It certainly hadn’t taken Mariah long to leave her mark on the café.

She was busy making coffee, and apparently didn’t hear him come in.

“Did you want coffee?” she called to Ralph over her shoulder.

“Please,” Ralph called back.

Mariah turned with a full pot in her hand—and saw Christian sitting at the counter. She gave a start, and the glass carafe slipped from her fingers. It shattered, and hot coffee splashed across the polished floor.

“Oh, no!” Luckily Mariah had jumped back in time to avoid getting burned.

It took a determined effort on Christian’s part not to call attention to the accident. He merely shook his head. Poor Ben. He didn’t have a clue what he was letting himself in for when he’d hired Mariah.

“What happened?” Ben stuck his head out from the kitchen.

“I—I broke the coffeepot.”

Christian waited for the cook to start bellowing. Ben wasn’t known for his patience, and if ever a woman was born to try men’s souls, it was Mariah Douglas.

He’d give Ben a week; then he’d be begging Christian and Sawyer to take her off his hands.

“Don’t worry about it,” Ben said, reaching for the mop. “I’ve got plenty of pots. You weren’t burned, were you?”

“No. I’m fine.” Her eyes flew to Christian, narrowing as if she blamed him for the accident. He hadn’t done a thing, yet everyone in Hard Luck was ready to go for his jugular.

“Your coffee’ll be just a minute,” Mariah told Ralph.

“No problem,” the bush pilot assured her. He unfolded the Fairbanks newspaper and disappeared behind it.

“I’ll take a cup when you get around to it,” Christian said, righting the ceramic mug in front of him. He might be risking his life asking her to pour it for him, but it was a risk he’d have to take.

Mariah refilled another glass pot from the large percolator. He noted that her hand shook slightly as she filled his mug. “When did you get back?” she asked conversationally. Christian wasn’t fooled; she’d been the one to arrange his itinerary. She knew his travel schedule as well as he did.

“This afternoon.”

Mariah pulled an order pad from her apron pocket. “What can I get you?”

“I’ll have a piece of apple pie.”

Mariah called back the order to Ben, who appeared a couple of minutes later with a large slice of pie. He set it in front of Christian and eyed him warily, as if anticipating a confrontation.