energy, a trait he’d noticed that, in spite of there being no common DNA between them, Emily shared.
Jeremy crafted his face into a look of bafflement. “She hasn’t received them yet? I asked Kim to email them,” he lied smoothly. How did his uncle figure this stuff out all the time? Did he have spies everywhere in this place? Cameras? Bugs? Access to email accounts? What? “Maybe they didn’t go through. The internet has been a little unreliable up there, too, from what I understand. I’ll be sure to check on that again today.”
The truth was the photos hadn’t even been put together yet. He’d asked someone in the graphics department to compile them, but no one seemed to know what it was he was asking for. These people were idiots. Not for the first time he wondered how Emily managed to get any work out of them at all, much less the abundance that she did.
“How is the job going up there anyway?” Jeremy asked, changing the subject and hoping that Franklin would say terribly, but knowing that Emily was handling it like she did everything—perfectly. The woman had always made him feel inadequate, and now that she was gone, instead of making it better as he’d hoped, it was worse—much, much worse. He hadn’t realized how difficult this job was going to be without her.
“Fine, just fine,” Franklin responded flatly, but Jeremy could sense the pride behind his tone.
“Wonderful! ” Jeremy said and nodded happily as if delighted by the news.
He caught a glimpse of something in his uncle’s eyes. Something, Jeremy thought, like confusion or skepticism. It dawned on him then that he shouldn’t have asked how Emily was doing in Alaska; he should have already known. Was that why his uncle was sitting there silently staring him down? What was the old man thinking? It was impossible to tell. Jeremy swallowed nervously as Franklin continued with his wordless scrutiny.
He finally shifted in his seat and his features seemed to soften slightly. Then he spoke. “You must miss her terribly.”
“Yes, yes, I do,” Jeremy replied soberly. You have absolutely no idea, old man....
“You’re sure she’s going to say yes?”
Jeremy smiled smoothly even as his stomach twisted and knotted painfully. His nerves seemed to have a direct link to his intestines lately. “Absolutely.” Another lie—they hadn’t ever talked about it, but he couldn’t imagine that Emily wouldn’t say yes. She had to say yes. He’d already assured his uncle that it was going to happen. And it would. As soon as he could get her back here...
His uncle’s tone was suddenly sharp as he asked, “You’ve got the projections ready for the meeting with Argot tomorrow, I assume?”
Jeremy shifted nervously. “Nearly there. Very close.”
“No problem generating the graphics, then?”
Jeremy nearly groaned aloud. Graphics? He hadn’t even managed to get the final numbers together yet. He had delegated most of it to two accounting people, but they obviously hadn’t communicated with each other, because what they’d given him seemed to be from two entirely different sets of data. And in total it appeared to him to be nothing more than a tidy summation of gibberish. Now he was going to have to find someone to stay late to do the graphics? He hadn’t been able to get the graphics department to do anything beyond making a new sign for his office door, which now read Jermy Struthorn. He figured that said it all.
* * *
EMILY WAS FEELING like her old self as she stepped into the meeting room where she was going to be giving her presentation to the Chamber of Commerce. It was her first official opportunity to try to turn the tide in Cam-Field’s favor. Amanda was right, she could do this. She just needed to get her head in the game. Just because she’d never been to Alaska didn’t mean that it was going to be that much different than any of the other scores of places she had worked before.
Her sketches did look good and she was glad she had done them. Her computer was still down and she had yet to hear from Jeremy, aside from some weird texts that had come through on her phone telling her how much he missed her, followed by a question about who her favorite employee was in the graphics department. Whatever. He could jump off a cliff for all she cared. She was starting to feel more like herself—much more confident and definitely more in control.
In addition to resting, eating the healthy food Bering had suggested she buy and sketching, she’d spent a great number of hours over the past few days on the telephone, which had miraculously started working to an adequate degree (although she still couldn’t put anyone on hold) trying to get to know some of the townspeople. She had purposely arrived several minutes early today so she could mingle and introduce herself in person.
She walked up to a handsome, athletic-looking man wearing dark blue jeans and a long-sleeved flannel shirt. It looked almost crisp and Emily got a kick out of the fact that it appeared to have been pressed. Perhaps, she thought wryly, an iron is what distinguishs everyday-wear flannel from the more professional for-the-office flannel. She extended a hand toward him and noticed that his thick black hair contained only touches of gray and, along with his trim physique, made him look much younger than he probably was. She’d noticed that wasn’t an uncommon trait among the men here.
“Mayor Calder? Emily Hollings. It is so nice to meet you finally. I’ve so enjoyed our phone conversations....”
* * *
BERING WATCHED THE INTERPLAY between Emily and the mayor and was relieved. She really had bounced back. She looked great—stunning, actually—and she seemed well on her way to recovery. There were some smart, tough and stubborn men and women who belonged to the Chamber and he hadn’t been looking forward to seeing her get eaten alive. Now, however, that he could see her in full swing, a new kind of concern was creeping up on him. She was good at this, much better, in fact, than he had anticipated.
Which was a relief on one hand, because he could quit worrying about her, but on the other hand, he was beginning to speculate about what kind of fight he was really in for. He might have his work cut out for him after all. And to think, because of his apparently misguided concern, he’d already solved one problem for her....
Bering hadn’t thought she was being paranoid about her office sabotage. He’d had a pretty good idea who was behind it all. He was well acquainted with the Bradbury family. Buster Bradbury’s son, Brodie, often helped out Oden Franks by taking care of property matters locally, including his own father’s rental properties. He was also a well-known amateur computer hacker. And it was no secret which side of the issue the Bradbury family was on.
Brodie and his wife ran the hardware store, which also carried the bulk of the town’s office supplies. He’d inherited the business from Buster, and they were all terrified that Cam-Field’s development of Rankins would bring in one of those big-box stores and drive them out of business. Bering had quickly discovered that Brodie had taken it upon himself to do his part to prevent that from happening. Bering had convinced Brodie that those kinds of tactics could very well get him into trouble and really wouldn’t make a difference in the final outcome anyway.
Though the sensible part of him said that an uncomfortable Emily shouldn’t make any difference to him, could maybe even give him an edge, this level playing field somehow made him feel better about the battle he now felt certain was commencing. He absolutely wanted to win—he had to win. The alternative was unthinkable. This town, this valley, was his lifeblood. His living depended on the pristine wilderness—clean, pure water where the fish thrived and the unspoiled country where wildlife teemed. Sure, he guided fishermen to the best fishing of their lives and he helped hunters pursue their dream trophies, but he was careful to do it in a way that respected the ecosystem.
He’d gone away to college in Anchorage and majored in environmental science and business, and he had done so with every intention of coming back to Rankins. He knew how fragile the balance between nature and man could be. In addition to volunteering for environmental cleanups, he also contracted with the Department of Fish and Game for the surveying of big game and predator numbers and the reporting of any threat to them that might arise. Bering was convinced that he’d