Chapter 2 #2
“Good morning,” Tisha said, her voice steady as she approached Ethan. He looked up from his phone, his expression unreadable.
“I’m Tisha.” She extended her hand, and his eyes flicked to her palm before shaking it.
“Ethan.”
“What can I get you?”
“Just coffee.” He returned to scanning his screen. “Black.”
“Just coffee? Nothing else? I hear Owen makes a mean omelet.”
“I already ate.”
“How about some pie?”
Frowning, he hesitated, then scrolled some more. “It’s literally nine thirty.”
“Oh, come on.” She tilted her head toward the glass case. “One slice. Live a little.”
“All right. Pie it is, then. Just a small slice, please.”
“Perfect.” She wrote down coffee and pie. “I’ll be right back with your coffee.”
“No worries. I’m on it.” Charlie appeared behind her with a mug and a carafe. “Hey, Ethan.”
“Hi, Charlie.” He gave her a firm nod as she filled the mug and set it down.
Tisha stood in front of the glass bakery case at the end of the counter. “These pies look sad,” she said, her heart sinking a little at the sight.
“Well, that’s because they’re brought in frozen. We plate and serve them.” Charlie stopped in front of the service window and clipped a new order into the turnstile. “There you go, Owen. Over easy on those eggs, please.”
Owen nodded. “Got it.”
Tisha opened the door, then pressed up on tiptoes to get a closer look. “This isn’t right.”
“That’s why you’re here. To overhaul our pie game, remember?” Charlie opened a cabinet under the counter and handed over a small plate and pie server.
“What are my options?”
“Um, chocolate cream, banana cream. I think there might be some pumpkin.” Charlie frowned. “Everything else is still frozen, sorry.”
“Okay, well…” She lowered her voice. “A guy that grumpy needs some banana-cream pie in his life.”
Charlie bit her lip, shaking her head slightly. “Girl, you don’t even know.”
Tisha plated a slice of banana cream, and after Charlie showed her where the forks were kept, she carried the pie out to Ethan.
“Here you go,” she said, giving Ethan her best smile as she set the plate next to his coffee.
He studied her, his brow furrowed. Oh, wow.
Warmth heated her skin. His piercing green eyes and ruddy cheeks were quite attractive.
Or maybe he just had that whole strong, independent Alaskan-male thing going on.
“Have we met? Before today, I mean?”
She hesitated, clicking the end of her pen. “Rumor has it we have some mutual connections.”
He used the side of his fork to separate a sliver of pie. “Who?”
“I used to be married to your brother Luke’s best friend.”
Ethan paused, his fork halfway to his mouth. Something she couldn’t quite identify flashed in his expression. “Chase Binford.”
She nodded. “He passed away unexpectedly. Two years ago. I’m sure Luke told you all about it.”
“I’m sorry for your loss,” he said, his tone softer now.
“Thank you.” Tisha drew a deep breath, then leaned her elbows on the counter. “So, how do you like the pie?”
He took a bite, chewed thoughtfully, his expression masking any hint of pleasure. “It’s okay.”
She straightened. “Just okay?”
“Yeah, not a fan of pie.”
“Really? Not at all?”
“Not a fan of bananas either.”
“Seriously? Who doesn’t like bananas?”
He picked up his coffee and shot her a look over the rim of the mug. “People who’ve lived in places with better options.”
“Huh. Noted.” She tore his bill from her new pad, then tucked it between the salt and pepper shakers in front of him.
“Tisha?” Charlie stood at the cash register. “Let me show you how to use our system.”
“Be right there.” Tisha gave Ethan a polite smile. “I’m going to figure out what kind of pie you like.”
“Good luck.”
Wow. Okay, then. “Challenge accepted.”
The rest of the day moved quickly. Lunch brought a flurry of soup orders, a café full of chatty customers, and an overwhelming amount of onboarding info from Charlie. By two fifteen, her back ached and her feet throbbed in protest. Note to self: Invest in more supportive shoes.
The ladies in the front office at the elementary school had explained how to drop off Sadie and pick her up, plus she’d reviewed the instructions posted on the school’s website.
By three o’clock, she sat in line, listening to her favorite country-music playlist while sipping a hazelnut latte from the Copper Kettle.
When she rolled to the front of the line, the passenger door opened, and Miss Johnson stood on the other side.
“Good to see you, Mrs. Binford. Sadie had a great day. We’ll see you tomorrow.”
“Thanks.” Tisha waved, then waited while Sadie climbed in and hurled her backpack into the back seat. “Hey, pumpkin, how was your day?”
“It was fine.” Sadie sniffed, tears streaming down her cheeks.
“Oh no.” Tisha reached over, smoothing Sadie’s pigtails. “What happened?”
“I don’t want to tell you,” Sadie whispered.
Tisha glanced through the window toward Miss Johnson, but she’d already moved on to help another student get in his car. “Can you tell me one good thing that happened? What was your favorite part of the day?”
“Leaving.”
Oh dear. Tisha sighed. “Come on, let’s go home. Grandma and Grandpa need some better pies at their café. You can help me make some.”
“Okay. Can I choose the flavor?”
“Sure.” Tisha gestured toward the sound system. “You want to put on some of your favorite songs?”
“Yes, please.”
Sadie grabbed Tisha’s phone from the console, swiping through a soundtrack from one of her favorite animated movies, filling the car with a cheerful hit they’d heard a hundred times. A few minutes later, they pulled up in front of the Binfords’, parked, and got out.
“Grandma and Grandpa are still at the café. Let’s go fix some hot cocoa and you can tell me what happened.”
Inside, Sadie dropped her backpack by the door, yanked off her boots, and let her coat slide to the floor. “Can you get the fire going again?”
Tisha pointed to the pegs. “Remember, backpack and coat and boots here?”
Sadie nodded, her cheeks still flushed. Poor girl.
While Sadie put her stuff away and carried her lunchbox into the kitchen, Tisha stoked the fire. A few minutes later, golden flames licked the logs, casting a warm glow around their cozy cabin.
“Let’s see what we have here in the cabin that we can make into a pie while you tell me about your first day of school.” Tisha found two mugs and a container of hot-cocoa mix in the cupboard. “What made you so upset?”
“Some dumb boy called me Daisy.” Sadie pooched out her lower lip, her eyes glistening with unshed tears.
“Oh, that’s not so bad. Why did he call you Daisy?” Tisha plugged in the electric kettle to heat the water. “Maybe he thinks you’re as pretty as a flower.”
“No, he’s dumb. That’s why.”
“Oh, I don’t think that’s true. Did you know that daisies are my favorite flower? Your daddy used to pick bouquets from the field and bring them to me.”
“He did?”
“He sure did.” Tisha bent down, grabbed Sadie’s hands in hers, then met her daughter’s gaze. Wow, her eyes were so much like Chase’s. “So I happen to think daisies are lovely.”
“Daddy was nice.” Sadie’s voice turned pitiful.
Tisha’s heart pinched. Please, no more tears. She directed Sadie toward the sink. “Let’s wash our hands. Maybe you can help me roll out the pie dough. I’m sorry to hear that this boy is bugging you. I had a difficult customer today too. He didn’t like pie.”
Sadie squirted soap onto her hands. “Everybody likes pie.”
“Of course they do.” Tisha floured the counter and got out a ball of dough, handing Sadie the rolling pin. “Can you put some flour on that, please? Just a little bit.”
Sniffling, Sadie dried her hands, then pushed up her sleeves and sprinkled flour on the rolling pin like Tisha had taught her.
“You’re good at this, sweetie.” Tisha patted Sadie’s back. “Do you want me to go in and talk to Miss Johnson about this boy?”
“No, what I want you to do is take me back to North Carolina!” Sadie dropped the rolling pin on the counter, then ran to her room and slammed the door.
Oh boy. Tisha pressed the back of her hand to her forehead.
Was her mother right after all? Had she made a terrible choice, bringing her daughter here?
For all her talk about how life was an adventure, and she’d certainly had plenty of adventures in Alaska over the years, she couldn’t shake the nagging feeling that she was really going to mess this kid up.
Airport-shuttle run and online research about recent plane crashes—not the most exciting to-do list for a Wednesday morning, but he’d vowed to do his part to help with the resort. And figure out what happened to Trevor.
“Have a great trip home.” Ethan stood outside the small airport in Redemption, shaking hands with the guys he’d flown up into the mountains the day before.
“Thanks, man! That was epic. We’ll definitely be back.” The taller one grinned, his sunburned cheeks crinkling as he adjusted his reflective sunglasses.
“Glad you enjoyed it.” Ethan waved them off as they shouldered their packs and disappeared through the airport doors.
The exhaust from a nearby diesel truck idling at the curb wafted toward him.
Turning back to the late-model Suburban that doubled as the resort’s shuttle, he slammed the hatch closed.
Then he hurried around to the driver’s side, climbed in, and rubbed his gloved hands together for warmth before cranking up the heat.
He’d been stationed in cold climates early in his career, but after twelve years at warm southeastern air stations, this chill was a shock. It was as if he’d forgotten that Alaska was anything other than frigid and snowy. At least this time of year.
The sun crested the snowcapped mountains, casting a bluish hue across the landscape. Snow crunched under his tires as he navigated through the crowded parking lot.