Chapter 5
S adie
Sadie stabbed at her pancakes with unforgiving force, drowning each bite in syrup before shoveling it in. Since she wasn’t going anywhere for a while, she’d wallow in misery and maple syrup.
“Coffee, Lucky?” Jessie lifted the pot, ready to pour.
He winked at her. “Only if it comes with a kiss, my golden-haired goddess of the griddle.”
“In your dreams, flyboy.” Jessie gave him a dubious look and handed him a mug of coffee.
Sadie admired the way these people got along. The pancakes were delicious, and the coffee was strong. She begrudgingly noted Kreston looked good, with snowflakes melting into his sandy brown hair and blue eyes catching hers. He’d pushed up his sweater sleeves despite the cold, and yes, okay—Aloha had a point about those arms.
Stop, she told herself. Absolutely not. Forbidden fruit.
No more evaluating Kreston’s forearms. Or his eyes. Or the way he’d helped her in last night’s storm without making her feel like she couldn’t handle it. She definitely would not think about any of that.
“Mind if I sit?” asked Kreston, his hand on the back of the chair next to hers. His lips parted in a dazzling display of straight, white teeth .
“Sure. Take a load off.” She found herself not wanting him to think less of her from yesterday’s debacle.
I’m not a bitch. Only stuck in an impossible situation out of my control.
Kreston removed his coat and arranged it on the back of the chair, like he was attending a business meeting.
“How did you sleep?” he asked Sadie, as Jessie supplied him with a mug of coffee.
“Surprisingly well. The shower was a bit of a brown surprise, however,” she said wryly.
“Have to let it run a spell for it to clear. The earthquake a while back shook the sediment loose inside the pipes.” Tucker waved his hand back and forth.
“Meant to tell you about letting the water run a while.” Kreston poured a heaping spoonful of white sugar and a generous glob of thick cream into his coffee.
Sadie hadn’t seen anyone shovel mountains of real sugar and cream into their coffee since her dad did when she was little. Back then, no one blinked.
Kreston gave her a side-eye. “Something wrong?”
“I hope you know that’s the kiss of death.” She grimaced. “Haven’t seen anyone avalanche a shit ton of sugar and heart-attack cream into coffee since the last century.”
“You’re that old, huh?” Kreston looked over his coffee as he sipped. “They no longer have sugar and cream in Seattle, the coffee mecca of the Pacific Northwest?”
This place really was a decade or two behind everywhere else.
Yep, I’ve landed in a time warp .
“Of course we do,” sniffed Sadie. “But in this new millennium, we mostly use imitation sugar and nonfat creamer.” She glanced around the table. “So, tell me, what does everyone do around here when it snows like this?”
“Right now, we’re preparing for the holidays,” explained Kreston. “Lucky and the boys plan to hang Christmas wreaths and cut trees for those who can’t cut their own.”
“In this wild-assed snowstorm?” Sadie’s voice rose a notch. “You cut trees? You don’t use artificial ones to conserve resources?”
Everyone at the table laughed. Kreston didn’t answer. Instead, he sat there with a corner of his mouth lifted, running his finger around the rim of his coffee mug.
“What?” she quipped, piercing everyone with a stare. “What’s so funny?”
“First, if we wait for the weather to clear in Alaska, nothing gets done,” explained Lucky. “Second, have you seen how many trees we have in Alaska? Forests so dense the animals can barely squeeze their antlers and hineys between the spruce and birch.”
“That’s right,” intoned Jessie, appearing at the table with one hand on her hip and the other lifting the pot of magical caffeine, fixer of the world. “It costs a fortune to ship a fake tree up here to the boonies. Besides, the state and feds like it when we thin the forest every year because cutting spruce reduces fuel for wildfires.”
“How the heck do you haul the trees to town, then?” persisted Sadie.
Jessie smiled. “That’s why God invented snowmachines.”
Sadie held up her mug for a refill. “Why make fake snow when you have the real thing?”
Everyone chuckled and exchanged more knowing glances.
“Now what?” This was irritating, and Sadie was losing patience.
“Everyone Outside calls them snowmobiles.” Kreston made a funny face and shivered. “Jeez, it slays me to say that evil word in Alaska. Feels like profanity.”
The table burst out laughing. Everyone except Sadie, who didn’t know whether to be mystified or annoyed. “Outside? Like out there?” She pointed to the window with her empty coffee mug.
More laughing at her expense. All right, this was officially getting old.
“Outside, meaning everywhere Outside of the state of Alaska.”
“Oh.” This weird place even had its own jargon. Well, so did Seattle: The Village, The Hill, The Market, and The Ave.
Jessie refilled Sadie’s raised coffee mug. “Good girl. You know how to wake up with caffeine while it’s still dark.”
“Since I’m stuck here, I may as well overdose on caffeine.” Sadie meant it as a joke, but it came out sounding like an insult.
Kreston set down his mug, and Sadie noticed him staring at her engagement ring.
“Don’t worry, you won’t be stuck for long. But you’re welcome here just the same.” He scooted out of his chair and swung his coat on. “If you’ll excuse me, I have mail to deliver from yesterday’s flight.” He disappeared out of the Crooked Spoon, with Lucky on his heels.
“More pancakes, honey?” Jessie asked with a knowing smile. She lowered her reading glasses. “Hard not to notice the rock on your finger. ”
“Yes, to the pancakes. No, to the rock,” Sadie tried to pull it off, but after drinking so much coffee, her finger had swelled. “Can’t remove this stupid ring.”
Jessie took the seat next to Tucker, who stayed quiet, meticulously sketching on a napkin. “Trouble down in paradise, I assume. Care to talk about it?”
“Nothing to say other than my ex-fiancé sent me a text intended for his mistress, or lover, or whatever you call a breaker-upper since we weren’t married yet. We had plans to spend Christmas together at a resort in Talkeetna.”
Jessie let out a long, descending whistle. “And now you’re stuck here. Tough blow.”
“Tell me about it,” muttered Sadie, squirming in her chair. “I’ll go crazy just sitting around. Without reliable internet or cell phone service, I can’t work with my Seattle clients. I do public relations work.”
Jessie rested her hand on Sadie’s. “Tell you what. If you want to stay busy, you can help me out here at the restaurant. My server went to Fairbanks for the holidays. You could work off your hotel stay. I’ll arrange it with Kreston if you’re up for it.”
“Kreston? Oh yeah, he’s also the hotel manager.” Sadie gave her a wary look. “I haven’t waited tables since high school.”
“Like riding a bike, easy peasy. We also serve breakfast all day here,” said Jessie. “Also, I noticed our mayor couldn’t take his eyes off you just now.”
Tucker glanced up. “I’ll second that.”
Sadie shook her head in firm denial. “Why does everyone in this town play matchmaker for your mayor?”
Jessie shrugged. “Kreston has done a lot for people here. We just want him to be happy.”
The way she said it tugged Sadie’s heart, but she wasn’t about to fall for the bachelor-in-paradise shtick. “I’m not the mail-order bride type. Just saying.”
“Okay. So I imagined you checking out our mayor’s fine physique. Got to get back to work. Let me know if you’re up for helping.” Jessie patted Sadie’s hand, then stood. “You might want to get that ring off.” She hurried off to the kitchen.
Sadie glanced at Tucker, still absorbed with his sketching. “I didn’t mean to be rude about my remark about being stuck here.” Her cheeks heated as she pushed bits of pancake around her plate. “What I meant to say was...” Her thoughts jumbled as she trailed off.
“No matter,” Tucker slid his napkin toward her with a sketch of Sadie looking out the window. “Alaska has a way of giving people what they need, not what they think they want. Like sourdough pancakes. Or unexpected snowstorms.”
His sketch was remarkably detailed. “Oh my gosh, this is superb, Tucker! You’re a fantastic artist,” gushed Sadie.
“Thank you, young lady. We know you don’t want to be here, but we’re proud of our little berg. I hope you can make mimosas out of orange juice.” Tucker pushed himself to stand.
“Don’t you mean make lemonade out of lemons?”
“Nope. We’re into mimosas around here. A healthier beverage, by any standard.” He winked, then shuffled out of the restaurant.
Sadie sat staring after him. Despite everything—despite Clayton and the storm and her ruined Christmas plans and being inconvenienced—she appreciated Tucker’s act of kindness.
She studied the sketch he’d given her. He’d captured her disappointed expression. He’s right—she should make the best of it. Maybe being stuck here wasn’t the worst thing that could have happened.
Maybe it was only the second worst thing.