One
It had been one of those days. Abbey Sutherland made herself a cup of tea, then sat in the large overstuffed chair and propped her feet on the ottoman. She closed her eyes, soaking in the silence.
The morning had started badly when Scott overslept, which meant he and Susan had missed the school bus. Seven-year-old Susan had insisted on wearing her pink sweater, which was still in the dirty-clothes hamper, and she’d whined all the way to school. Abbey had driven them, catching every red light en route.
By the time she arrived at the library, she was ten minutes late. Mrs. Duffy gave her a look that could have curdled milk.
But those minor irritations faded after lunch. Abbey received notice that the library’s budget for the next fiscal year had been reduced and two positions would be cut—the positions held by the most recently hired employees. In other words, Abbey was going to lose her job in less than three months.
She finally got home at six o’clock, tired, short-tempered and depressed. That was when Mr. Erickson, the manager of the apartment complex, hand-delivered a note informing her the rents were being raised.
It was the kind of day even hot fudge couldn’t salvage.
Sensing her mood, the kids had acted up all evening. Abbey was exhausted, and she didn’t think reruns of Matlock were going to help.
Sipping her tea, she wondered what had happened to throw her life off course. She had a savings account, but there wasn’t enough in it to pay more than a month’s worth of bills. She refused to go to her parents for money. Not again. It had been too humiliating the first time, although they’d been eager to help. Not once had her mother or father said “I told you so,” when she filed for divorce, although they’d issued plenty of warnings when she’d announced her intention to marry Dick Sutherland. They’d been right. Five years and two children later, Abbey had returned to Seattle emotionally battered, brokenhearted and just plain broke.
Her parents had helped her back on her feet despite their limited income and lent her money to finish her education. Abbey had painstakingly repaid every penny, but it had taken her almost three years.
The newspaper, still rolled up, lay at her feet, and she picked it up. She might as well start reading through the want ads now, although she wasn’t likely to find another job as an assistant librarian. With cuts in local government spending, positions in libraries were becoming rare these days. But if she was willing to relocate...
“Mom.” Scott stood beside her chair.
“Yes?” She climbed out of her depression long enough to manage a smile for her nine-year-old son.
“Jason’s dog had her puppies.”
Abbey felt her chest tighten. Scott had been asking for a dog all year. “Honey, we’ve already been over this a hundred times. The apartment complex doesn’t allow pets.”
“I didn’t say I wanted one,” he said defensively. “All I said was that Jason’s dog had puppies. I know I can’t have a dog as long as we live here, but I was thinking that maybe with the rent increase we might move.”
“And if we do move,” Abbey said, “you want me to look for a place where we can have a dog.”
Her son grinned broadly. “Jason’s puppies are really, really cute, Mom. And they’re valuable, too! But you know what kind are my favorite?”
She did, but she played along. “Tell me.”
“Huskies.”
“Because the University of Washington mascot is a husky.”
“Yeah. They have cool eyes, don’t they? And I really like the way their tails loop up. I know they’re too big for me to have as a pet, but I still like them best.”
Abbey held out her arm to her son. He didn’t cuddle with her much anymore. That was kid stuff to a boy who was almost ten. But tonight he seemed willing to forget that.
He clambered into the chair next to her, rested his head against her shoulder and sighed. “I’m sorry I overslept this morning,” he whispered.
“I’m sorry I yelled at you.”
“That’s all right.” There was a pause. “I promise to get out of bed when you call from now on, okay?”
“Okay.” Abbey closed her eyes, breathing in the clean shampoo scent of his hair.
They sat together for a few more minutes, saying nothing.
“You’d better get back to bed,” Abbey said, although she was reluctant to see him go.
Scott climbed out of the chair. “Are we going to move?” he asked, looking at her with wide eyes.
“I guess we are,” she said and smiled.
“’Night, Mom.” Scott smiled, too, then walked down the hall to his bedroom.
Abbey’s heart felt a little lighter as she picked up the paper and peeled off the rubber band. She didn’t bother to look at the front page, but turned directly to the classifieds.
The square box with the large block printing attracted her attention immediately. “LONELY MEN IN HARD LUCK, ALASKA, OFFER JOBS, HOMES AND LAND.” Below in smaller print was a list of the positions open.
Abbey’s heart stopped when she saw “librarian.”
Hard Luck, Alaska. Jobs. A home with land. Twenty acres. Good grief, that was more than her grandfather had owned when he grew raspberries in Puyallup a generation earlier.
Dragging out an atlas, Abbey flipped through the pages until she found Alaska. Her finger ran down the list of town names until she came across Hard Luck. Population 150.
She swallowed. A small town generally meant a sense of community. That excited her. As a girl, she’d spent summers on her grandparents’ farm and loved it. She wanted to give her children the same opportunity. She was sure the three of them could adjust to life in a small town. In Alaska.
Using the atlas’s directions to locate the town, Abbey drew her finger across one side of the page and down the other.
Her excitement died. Hard Luck was above the Arctic Circle. Oh, dear. Maybe it wasn’t such a great idea, after all.
* * *
The following morning, Abbey reviewed her options.
She set out a box of cold cereal, along with a carton of milk. A still-sleepy Scott and Susan pulled out chairs and sat at the table.
“Kids,” she said, drawing a deep breath, “what would you say if I suggested we move to Alaska?”
“Alaska?” Scott perked up right away. “That’s where they have huskies!”
“Yes, I know.”
“It’s cold there, isn’t it?” Susan asked.
“Very cold. Colder than it’s ever been in Seattle.”
“Colder than Texas?”
“Lots colder,” Scott said in a superior older-brother tone. “It’s so cold you don’t even need refrigerators, isn’t that right, Mom?”
“Uh, I think they probably still use them.”
“But they wouldn’t need to if they didn’t have electricity. Right?”
“Right.”
“Could I have a dog there?”
Abbey weighed her answer carefully. “We’d have to find that out after we arrived.”
“Would Grandma and Grandpa come and visit?” Susan asked.
“I’m sure they would, and if they didn’t, we could visit them.”
Scott poured cereal into his bowl until it threatened to spill over.
“I read an ad in the paper last night. Hard Luck, Alaska, needs a librarian, and it looks like I’m going to need a new job soon.”
Scott and Susan didn’t comment.
“I didn’t think it would be fair to call and ask for an interview without discussing it with both of you first.”
“You should go for it,” Scott advised, but Abbey could see visions of huskies in her son’s bright blue eyes.
“It’ll mean a big change for all of us.”
“Is there snow all the time?” Susan wanted to know.
“I don’t think so, but I’ll ask.” Abbey hesitated, wondering exactly how much she should tell her children. “The ad said the job comes with a cabin and twenty acres of land.”
The spoon was poised in front of Scotty’s mouth. “To keep?”
Abbey nodded. “But we’d need to live there for a year. I imagine there won’t be many applicants, but then I don’t know. There doesn’t seem to be an abundance of jobs for assistant librarians, either.”
“I could live anywhere for a year. Go for it, Mom!”
“Susan?” Abbey suspected the decision would be more difficult for her daughter.
“Will there be girls my age?”
“Probably, but I can’t guarantee that. The town only has 150 people, and it would be very different from the life we have here in Seattle.”
“Come on, Susan,” Scott urged. “We could have our very own house.”
Susan’s small shoulders heaved in a great sigh. “Do you want to move, Mommy?”
Abbey stroked her daughter’s hair. Call her greedy. Call her materialistic. Call her a sucker, but she couldn’t stop thinking about those twenty acres and that cabin. No mortgage. Land. Security. And a job she loved. All in Hard Luck, Alaska.
She inhaled deeply, then nodded.
“Then I guess it would be all right.”
Scott let out a holler and leapt from his chair. He grabbed Abbey’s hands and they danced around the room.
“I haven’t got the job yet,” Abbey cried, breathless.
“But you’ll get it,” Scott said confidently.
Abbey hoped her son was right.
Two
Abbey took several calming breaths before walking up to the hotel desk and giving her name.
“Mr. O’Halloran’s taking interviews in the Snoqualmie Room on the second floor,” the clerk told her.
Abbey’s fingers tightened around her résumé as she headed for the escalator. Her heart pounded heavily, feeling like a lead weight in her chest.
Her decision to apply for this position had understandably received mixed reactions. Both Scott and Susan were excited about the prospect of a new life in Hard Luck, but Abbey’s parents were hesitant.
Marie Murray would miss spoiling her grandchildren. Abbey’s father, Wayne, was convinced she didn’t know what she’d be getting into moving to the frozen north. But he seemed to forget that she made her living in a library. Soon after placing the initial call, Abbey had checked out a number of excellent books about life in Alaska. Her research had told her everything she wanted to know—and more.
Nevertheless, she’d already decided to accept the job if it was offered. No matter how cold the winters were, living in Hard Luck would be better than having to accept money from her parents.
Abbey found the Snoqualmie Room easily enough and glanced inside. A lean, rawboned man in his early thirties sat at a table reading intently. The hotel staff must have thought applicants would arrive thirsty, because they’d supplied a pitcher of ice water and at least two dozen glasses.
“Hello,” she said with a polite smile. “I’m Abbey Sutherland.”
“Abbey.” The man stood abruptly as if she’d caught him unawares. “I’m Christian O’Halloran. We spoke on the phone.” He motioned to the seat on the other side of the table. “Make yourself comfortable.”
She sat and handed him her résumé.
He barely looked at it before setting it aside. “Thank you. I’ll read this later.”
Abbey nervously folded her hands in her lap and waited.
“You’re applying for the position of librarian, right?”
“Yes. I’m working toward my degree in library science.”
“In other words, you’re not a full librarian.”
“That’s correct. In Washington state, a librarian is required to have a master’s degree in library science. For the last two years I’ve worked as an assistant librarian for King County.” She paused. Christian O’Halloran was difficult to read. “I answer reference questions, do quick information retrieval and customer service, and of course I have computer skills.” She hesitated, wondering if she should continue.
“That sounds perfect. Hard Luck doesn’t exactly have a library at the moment. We do have a building of sorts....”
“Books?”
“Oh, yes, hundreds of those. At least a thousand. They were a gift to the town, and we need someone who’s capable of handling every aspect of organizing a library.”
“I’d be fully capable of that.” She listed a number of responsibilities she’d handled in her job with the King County library system. Somehow, though, Abbey couldn’t shake the feeling that Christian O’Halloran wasn’t really interested in hearing about her qualifications.
He mentioned the pay, and although it wasn’t as much as she was earning with King County, she wouldn’t need to worry about rent.
A short silence followed, almost as if he wasn’t sure what else to ask.
“Could you tell me a little about the library building?” she ventured.
He nodded. “Actually it was a home at one time—my grandfather’s original homestead, in fact—but I don’t think you’d have much of a problem turning it into a library, would you?”
“Probably not.”
Already, Abbey’s mind was at work, dividing up the house. One of the bedrooms could be used for fiction, another for nonfiction. The dining room would be perfect for a reading room, or it could be set up as an area for children.
“You understand that life in Hard Luck isn’t going to be anything like Seattle,” Christian commented, breaking into her thoughts.
Her father had said that very thing the day before. “I realize that.” She paused for a moment. “Could I ask you about the house and the land you’re offering?”
“Of course.”
“Well, uh, could you tell me about the house?”
She waited.
“It’s more of a cabin, and I’d describe it as...rustic.” He seemed to stumble on the word. “It definitely has a...rural feel. Don’t get me wrong, it’s comfortable, but it’s different from what you’re used to.”
“I’m sure it is. Tell me about Hard Luck.”
The man across from her relaxed. “It’s probably the most beautiful place on earth. You might think I’m prejudiced and I can’t very well deny it. I guess you’ll have to form your own opinion.
“In summer there’s sunlight nearly twenty-four hours a day. That’s when the wildflowers bloom. I swear every color under the sun bursts to life almost overnight. The forests and tundra turn scarlet and gold and burnt orange.”
“It sounds lovely.” And it did. “What about the winters?”
“Oh, yes. Well, again, it’s beautiful, but the beauty is kind of...stark. Pristine’s a good word. I don’t think anyone’s really lived until they’ve seen our light show.”
“The aurora borealis.”
Christian smiled approvingly. “I’m not going to lie to you,” he continued. “It gets mighty cold. In winter it isn’t uncommon for the temperature to drop to forty or fifty below.”
“My goodness.” Although Abbey knew this, hearing him say it reinforced the reality.
“On those days, almost everything closes down. We don’t generally fly when it’s that cold. It’s too hard on the planes, and even harder on the pilots.”
Abbey nodded; he’d told her about Midnight Sons, the O’Halloran brothers’ air charter service, during their phone conversation.
“What about everything else?” she asked. “Like the school. Does it close down, too?” He’d also explained in their previous conversation that Hard Luck had a school that went from kindergarten to twelfth grade.
“Life in town comes to a standstill, and we all sort of snuggle together. There’s nothing to do in weather that cold but wait it out. Most days, we manage to keep the school open, though.” He shrugged. “We rely on one another in Hard Luck. We have to.”
“What about food?”
“We’ve got a grocery store. It’s not a supermarket, mind you, but it carries the essentials. Everyone in town stocks up on supplies once a year. But if you run out of anything, there’s always the grocery. If Pete Livengood—he’s the guy who owns it—if he doesn’t have what you need, one of the pilots can pick it up for you. Midnight Sons makes daily flights into Fairbanks, so it isn’t like you’re stuck there.”
“What about driving to Fairbanks? When I looked up Hard Luck, I couldn’t make out any roads. There is one, isn’t there?”
“Sure there is—in a manner of speaking,” Christian said proudly. “We got ourselves a haul road a few years back.”
Abbey was relieved. If she did get the job, she’d have to have her furniture and other household effects delivered; without a road, that would obviously have been a problem. Flying them was sure to be prohibitively expensive.
“Do you have any more questions for me?” she asked.
“None.” Christian looked at his watch. “Would you mind filling out the application form while you’re here? I’ll be holding interviews for the next day or so. I’ll call you tomorrow afternoon, if that’s all right.”
Abbey stood. “That’d be fine.”
Christian gave her the one-page application, which she completed quickly and gave back to him.
He rose from behind the table and extended his hand. “It was a pleasure to meet you.”
“You, too.” Even before she’d come in for the interview, she’d known she’d accept the position if it was offered to her. She needed a job, needed to support her family. If that meant traveling to the ends of the earth, she’d do it. But as she turned to walk away, Abbey realized she not only needed this position, she wanted it. Badly.
She loved the idea of creating her own library. But it wasn’t just the challenge of the job that excited her. She’d watched this man’s eyes light up as he talked about his home. When he said Hard Luck was beautiful, he’d said it with sincerity, with passion. When he told her about the tundra and the forest, she could imagine their beauty. She’d seen plenty of photographs and even a National Geographic documentary, but it was his words that truly convinced her. More than that, excited her.
“Mr. O’Halloran?” she said, surprising herself.
He was already seated, leafing intently through a sheaf of papers. He glanced up. “Yes?”
“If you decide to hire me, I promise I’ll do a good job for you and the people in Hard Luck.”
He nodded. “And I promise I’ll phone you soon.”
* * *
“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.
Christian hesitated. “I suppose you could say the librarian’s pretty, but she isn’t going to bowl you over the way Allison will. She’s just sort of regular pretty. Brown hair and eyes, average height. Cute upturned nose.
“Now with Allison, well, there’s no comparison. We’re talking sexy here. Wait until John gets a look at her...front,” Christian said, and chuckled. “She’s swimsuit-issue material.”
“Hire her!” Sawyer snapped.
“Allison? I already have, but she wants twenty-four hours to think it over. I told you that.”
“I meant the librarian.”
“Oh, all right, if you think I should.”
Sawyer propped his elbows on the desk and shook his head. “Anything else you called to tell me about?”
“Not much. I’m not doing any more interviews for now. Allison and the librarian, plus the new teacher, that’s three—enough to start with. Let’s see how things work out. I’ve collected a couple of dozen résumés, and I’ll save them for future reference. Unless I find a cook for Ben or—”
“Don’t hire any more,” Sawyer insisted. He was well aware that he sounded short-tempered, but frankly he was and he didn’t care if his brother knew it.
“Oh, yeah, I meant to tell you. If Allison does take the job, she won’t be able to start right away. Apparently she’s booked a vacation with a friend. I told her that’s okay. We’ve waited this long. Another couple of weeks won’t matter.”
“Why don’t you ask her if next year would be convenient?”
“Very funny. What’s wrong with you? I get the feeling you’re envious—not that I blame you. I wish we’d thought of this a long time ago. Meeting and talking to all these women is a lot of fun. See you.”
The phone went dead in Sawyer’s hand.
* * *
Abbey’s spirits were low. Dragging-in-the-gutter low. She hadn’t got the job. O’Halloran would’ve phoned by now if he’d decided to hire her.
Scott and Susan, ever sensitive to her moods, pushed their dinner around their plates. No one seemed to have much of an appetite.
“It doesn’t look like I got the job in Alaska,” she told them. There wasn’t any reason to keep her children’s hopes alive. “Mr. O’Halloran, the man who interviewed me, was supposed to call this afternoon if he’d chosen me.”
“That’s all right, Mom,” Scott said with a brave smile. “You’ll find something else.”
“I wanted to go to Alaska,” Susan said, her lower lip trembling. “I told everyone at school we were moving.”
“We are.” Abbey knew this was of little comfort, but she threw it in, anyway. “It just so happens that we won’t be moving to Alaska.”
“Can we visit there someday?” Scott asked. “I liked what we read in those books you brought home. It seems like a great place.”
“Someday.” Someday, Abbey realized, could be a magical word, filled with the promise of a brighter tomorrow. At the moment, though, it just sounded bleak.
The phone rang, and both Susan and Scott twisted around, looking eagerly at the kitchen wall. Neither of them moved. Abbey didn’t allow the dinner hour to be interrupted by phone calls.
“The machine will pick up the message,” she told them unnecessarily.
After the fourth ring, the answering machine automatically clicked on. Everyone went still, straining to hear who’d phoned.
“This is Christian O’Halloran.”
“Mom!” Scott cried excitedly.
Abbey flew across the kitchen, ripping the phone off the hook. “Mr. O’Halloran,” she said breathlessly, “hello.”
“Hello,” Christian responded. “I’m glad I caught you.”
“I’m glad you caught me, too. Have you made your decision?” She hated to sound so eager, but she couldn’t stop herself.
“You’ve got the job, if you still want it.”
“I do,” Abbey said, giving Scott and Susan a thumbs-up. Her son and daughter stabbed triumphant fists in the air.
“When can you start?”
Abbey was certain the library would let her leave with minimal notice. “Whenever it’s convenient for you.”
“How about next week?” Christian asked. “I won’t return from my business trip until the end of the month, but I’ll arrange for my brother Sawyer to meet you in Fairbanks.”
“Next week?”
“Is that too soon?”
“No, no,” she said quickly, fearing he might change his mind. She could take the kids out of school a week early, and she wouldn’t need much time to pack their belongings. Her mother would help, and whatever they didn’t take with them on the plane—like their furniture—she could have shipped later.
“I’ll see you in Hard Luck, then.”
“Thank you. I can’t tell you how pleased I am,” she said. “Oh, before I hang up...” she began, thinking she should probably mention the fact that she’d be bringing Scott and Susan. Despite the provision of housing, there was nothing on the application asking about children or family.