Debbie Macomber: Alaska Skies

* * *

“Well?” Scott looked at Abbey expectantly when she walked into the house. “How’d the interview go?”

Abbey slipped off her pumps and curled her toes into the carpet. “Fine—I think.”

“Will you get the job?”

Abbey didn’t want to build up her son’s hopes. “I don’t know, honey. Where’s Missy?” Since she paid the teenage babysitter top dollar, she expected her to stay with Scott and Susan for the agreed-upon number of hours.

“Her mother wanted her to put a roast in the oven at four-thirty. Susan went with her. They’ll be back soon.”

Abbey collapsed into her favorite chair and dangled her arms over the sides. Her feet rested on the ottoman.

“Are you finished your homework?” she asked.

“I don’t have any. There’s only a couple more weeks left of school.”

“I know.”

Abbey dreaded the summer months. Every year, day camp and babysitting were more and more expensive. Scott was getting old enough to resent having a teenager stay with him. Not that Abbey blamed him. Before she knew it, her son would be thirteen himself.

“Would it be okay if I went over to Jason’s house?” he asked eagerly. “I’ll be home in time for dinner.”

Abbey nodded, but she knew it wasn’t the other boy he was interested in seeing. It was those puppies that’d captured his nine-year-old heart.

* * *

Sawyer walked into the long, narrow structure that sat next to the gravel-and-dirt runway. The mobile served as the office for Midnight Sons. Eventually they hoped to build a real office. That had been on the agenda for the past eight years—ever since they’d started the business. During those years, Charles and Sawyer had built their own homes. Sawyer’s was across the street from Christian’s place, which had been the O’Halloran family home. Charles’s house was one street over—not that there were paved streets in Hard Luck.

But they’d been too busy running Midnight Sons—flying cargo and passengers, hiring pilots, negotiating contracts and all the other myriad responsibilities that came with a business like theirs. Constructing an office building was just another one of those things they hadn’t gotten around to doing.

Exhausted, Sawyer threw himself down on the hard-backed swivel chair at Christian’s desk. Cleaning those old cabins was proving to be hard work. Much more of this, he thought ruefully, and he was going to end up with dishpan hands.

He’d been astonished—and impressed—by the willingness of their pilots to pitch in and make those old cabins livable. One thing was for sure; the log structures were solid. A few minor repairs, lots of soapy water and a little attention had done wonders. Not that a forty-year-old log cabin was going to impress a city girl. More than likely, the women Christian hired would take one look at those shacks and book the next flight south.

The phone pealed and Sawyer reached for it. As he did, he noticed the message light blinking.

“Midnight Sons.”

“Where have you been all day?” Christian grumbled. “I’ve left three messages. I’ve been sitting here waiting for you to call me back.”

“Sorry,” Sawyer muttered, biting back the temptation to offer to trade places. While Christian was gallivanting all over kingdom come securing airplane parts, talking to travel agents, meeting women and generally having a good time, Sawyer had been wielding a mop and pail. In Sawyer’s opinion, his younger brother had gotten the better end of this deal. As for himself, he’d seen enough cobwebs in the past week to last him a lifetime.

“You can tell Duke I found him a blonde,” Christian announced triumphantly. “Her name’s Allison Reynolds, and she’s going to be our secretary—well, maybe.”

Sawyer’s jaw tightened as he made an effort to hold back his irritation. “What’re her qualifications?”

“You mean other than being blonde?” Christian asked, then chuckled. “I’m telling you, Sawyer, I’ve never seen anything like this in my life. I placed the ad in the Seattle paper, and the answering service has been swamped. There are a lot of lonely women in this world.”

“Does our new secretary know she’ll be living in a log cabin without the comforts of home?”

“Naturally I told her about the cabin, but, uh, I didn’t have a chance to go into all the details.”

“Christian! That’s hardly a detail. She’ll be expecting to see modern plumbing, not a path to the outhouse. Women don’t like that kind of surprise.”

“I didn’t want to scare her off,” he argued.

“She deserves the truth.”

“I know, I know. Actually I offered her the position and she’s thinking it over. If she decides to accept the job, I’ll give her more information.”

“You mean to tell me that out of all the women who applied, you chose one who isn’t even sure she wants the job?” Sawyer didn’t often fly off the handle, but his brother was annoying him more than usual.

“Trust me, Allison wants the position,” Christian insisted. “She just needs to think about it. I would, too, in the circumstances.” He paused. “Our ad certainly attracted a lot of attention.”

Sawyer had carefully gone over the ad they’d submitted to the Seattle and Portland papers. He’d been concerned that they not inadvertently put in anything that might be misleading or violate the antidiscrimination laws. So there was nothing in the ad to suggest a man couldn’t apply. No one wanted to deal with a lawsuit a few weeks down the road.

“I must’ve talked to at least thirty women in the past couple of days,” Christian said, his voice ringing with enthusiasm. “And there were that many more phone inquiries.”

“What about a librarian? Has anyone applied for that?”

“A few, but not nearly as many as for the position of secretary. The minute I met Allison—”

“Does she type?”

“She must,” Christian answered. “She works in an office.”

“Didn’t you give her a test?” Sawyer asked, not bothering to conceal his disgust.

“What for? It isn’t like she’ll need a hundred words a minute, is it?”

Sawyer rubbed his face. “I can’t believe I’m hearing this.”

“Wait until you meet her, Sawyer,” Christian said happily. “She’s a knockout.”

“Oh, great.” He could picture it already. His crew would be hanging around the office, tongues hanging out over a dizzy blonde, instead of flying. Midnight Sons didn’t need this kind of trouble.

“Don’t worry about it,” his brother said. “I’ve made a lot of progress. You should be pleased.”

“It doesn’t sound like you’ve done much of anything.” Sawyer was fuming. He’d hoped—obviously a futile hope—that Christian would use a bit of common sense.

“Listen, I haven’t made up my mind which woman to hire for our librarian. There were a couple of excellent applicants.”

“Any blondes?” Sawyer asked sarcastically.

“Yeah, one, but she looked too fragile to last. I liked her, though. There’s another one who seemed to really want the job. It makes me wonder why she’d leave a cushy job here in Seattle for Hard Luck. It’s not like we’re offering great benefits.”

“But a house and twenty acres sounds like a lot,” Sawyer said from between clenched teeth.

“You think I should hire her?”

He sighed. “If she’s qualified and she wants the job, then by all means, hire her.”

“Okay. I’ll give her a call as soon as we’re finished and make the arrangements.”

“Just a minute.” Sawyer shoved one hand through his hair. “Is she pretty?” He was quickly losing faith in his brother’s judgment. Christian had already decided on a secretary, and he didn’t know if she could so much as file. Heaven help them all if he hired the rest of the applicants based on their looks rather than their qualifications.