Flights, Fights & Christmas Lights (Christmas Kisses and Calamities)

Chapter 1

S adie

The commuter plane bumped to a landing on the snowy Talkeetna Airstrip. Sadie Foster gripped her phone, willing herself to relax. She’d flown to Alaska two days ahead of her fiancé to indulge in the Denali Roadhouse Lodge’s famous spa, especially their Nordic hot tubs where guests could choose their perfect temperature.

She climbed out of her seat, excited to hear the flight attendant’s cheerful announcement: “Welcome to Talkeetna!” The frigid air hit her face as she descended the stairs to the snowy airstrip, carrying with it the scent of winter and aviation fuel. Her designer boots, chosen for their style rather than practicality, slipped on the icy tarmac.

Sadie followed the rest of the passengers to a small building to collect her bags. It took a while for both her bags to appear on the petite conveyor belt. When they did, she piled them onto a pushcart and headed over to the ground transportation desk.

As she was about to contact the car she’d booked with Uber, her phone buzzed. She glanced down to see a text from Clayton. She smiled. He must be getting ready to fly up here tomorrow.

Sadie tapped the text .

Hey, beautiful! Loved spending the night before last with you. Been thinking about that thing you do with your tongue. Hope your husband doesn’t suspect anything. I’m free tonight before I fly up to Alaska tomorrow. Drive over to my place. XOXO Clayton.

Sadie blinked. She read the text three times, her stomach growing icier with each pass. Ever since Thanksgiving, Clayton had to work late and went out of town on weekends, but she’d not given it a second thought. Never in her wildest imagination did she think he was cheating.

This certainly was a bolt out of the blue. Especially when they’d been planning for weeks to spend the Christmas holiday in a cozy Alaskan cabin.

She froze, debating how to respond to her fiancé’s message intended for someone else. Sadie wondered who it was, then she recalled an overly friendly blonde who’d shown up at Clayton’s office party a few weeks ago. Sadie had shrugged it off, assuming they worked together. Apparently, they did a heck of a lot more than that.

After pondering the situation, Sadie typed out what she considered a thoughtful response:

This is your ex-fiancée. Wrong number , asshole! Don’t bother flying up to Alaska unless you want moose turds thrown in your face. P.S. I’m selling your diamond ring. (smiley face)

She topped it off with a gif of a woman repeatedly flipping the bird.

Sadie switched off her phone before he could reply and stood in the middle of the building. She didn’t bother hiding her forlorn expression as she pondered what to do next. She absolutely had to get back on that airplane! She watched in dismay as the last passengers boarded the flight back to Anchorage. Then the ramp lifted, and the door closed.

“No!” she hollered. Every head turned toward her as she flew out the door, waving her arms. “Wait! I need to get back on!”

The propellors were already spinning, drowning out her voice. She watched helplessly as the aircraft taxied away, leaving her stranded in this tiny Alaska town with her shattered dreams and impractical footwear.

Disappointed, she shuffled back inside the one-horse air terminal to ask about the next flight to Anchorage.

A perky young woman glanced up from her computer. “Next flight to Anchorage isn’t until the day after tomorrow. They run every other day. There’s a storm on the way, anyway.”

“Not today? Not tomorrow?” Sadie’s voice cracked. “What is this, the boonies? There must be an earlier flight.”

“I can get you there,” a voice piped up behind her.

Sadie turned to find a stout, smiling man in a worn pilot’s cap, ear flaps hanging down. He extended a leather-gloved hand. “Lucky O’Hara. Preparing to fly to Anchorage as we speak.” His voice dripped Irish like an overfilled pint of Guinness.

Sadie hesitated, then shook his hand. “Sadie Foster. You’re sure about the weather?” She peeked out the window at a small red plane with two white stripes running along the fuselage.

“Been flying these routes for twenty years.” His Irish lilt carried a note of pride. “I’ll get us above the worst of it with my DeHavilland Beaver.”

Twenty minutes later, Sadie white-knuckled the passenger seat of Lucky’s red ski plane as they ascended into the swirling snowstorm. The aircraft seemed solid enough, but having only one propellor made her heart skip a beat. Especially in this whiteout, where she couldn’t get her bearings.

“Might get a wee bit bouncy, but don’t worry, The Beave can handle it!” Lucky shouted over the engine noise, banking hard to the right. “Storm’s moving fast and taller than expected.”

Sadie’s stomach lurched as they hit a deep air pocket. Outside her window, white peaks pierced the clouds like jagged teeth waiting to devour them. The aircraft shuddered violently as the pilot wrangled the insistent snow for a good fifteen minutes.

“Can’t get above her.” He flicked the altimeter with his forefinger, but the jiggling was too intense for Sadie to get a read on the numbers. The single-engine dipped hard to the left and her stomach flopped over to the port side along with it.

“Change of plans, Miss Sadie,” Lucky announced cheerfully. “Got to set down in Polar Creek to wait this out.”

“Polar what?” Sadie’s question ended in a shriek as the DeHavilland Beaver plummeted again. She frantically searched for anything to lock onto besides the thick curtain of snowflakes.

He gave her a sideways glance. “Don’t worry, I got her under control.” His voice jiggled as the bush plane shuddered.

“Where’s this Polar place?” She pressed her forehead to the glass in the passenger seat. She saw nothing.

“You’ll see it any second now—there!” The bush pilot dipped his head to the side.

Through the relentless blizzard, Sadie glimpsed a cluster of buildings, their windows glowing like warm jewels in the gathering dusk. Like a mirage, everything disappeared when the plane bucked again, her feet lifting off the floor.

“Quite the crosswind!” Lucky’s voice remained impossibly upbeat as they descended. “Hold tight. Might be a rough landing.”

Everything was a flat white, and Sadie couldn’t see anything resembling a town. She couldn’t tell where the ground was, so she squeezed her eyes shut, mentally composing her own epitaph: “Here lies Sadie, who died in a flying tin can with a crazy Irishman in the Alaskan wilderness because her cheating fiancé couldn’t keep his texts straight.”

The wheeled skis hit the snow with a bone-jarring thud, and Sadie bit her tongue. The aircraft bounced once, twice, then skidded sideways. She braced herself, expecting this DeHavilland Beaver to roll over when it finally skidded to a stop. Her heart still raced, even after the propellor fell silent.

“Welcome to Polar Creek!” Lucky announced, the howling wind lifting the wings, still jostling them around. “Population one hundred and twelve. Thirteen now, counting you.”

Nursing her sore tongue, Sadie’s response was a sound between a laugh and a sob. Outside, the storm howled its triumph, and the heavy flakes picked up speed, threatening to bury them alive as they sat in the ski plane. All she saw was white.

Everywhere.

Fantastic. Not only had her fiancé cheated on her, she’d landed inside of a mother freaking snow globe that some joker had shaken.

To make matters worse, her cell phone displayed zero bars.