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.
“I’ll be with you in a minute, Allison,” Christian said.
“Excuse me?”
“My dinner date just arrived,” he told her. “As I explained, my brother will meet you in Fairbanks. I’ll have the travel agency call you to make the arrangements for your ticket.”
“You’re paying my airfare?”
“Of course. And don’t worry about packing for the winter. You can buy what you need once you arrive.”
“But—”
“I wish I had more time to answer your questions,” he said distractedly. “Sawyer’s really the one who can tell you what you need to know.”
“Mr. O’Halloran—”
“Good luck, Abbey.”
“Thank you.” She gave up trying. He’d learn about Scott and Susan when he returned. As far as she was concerned, the town was getting a great librarian—plus a bonus!
* * *
“You sure you don’t want me to fly in and meet the new librarian this afternoon?” John Henderson asked, straddling the chair across from Sawyer. His hair had been dampened and combed down, and it looked as if he was wearing a new shirt.
“Be my guest.” You’d think the Queen of England was flying in judging by the way folks in Hard Luck were behaving. Duke had arrived at Ben’s this morning clean-shaven and spiffed up, smelling pungently of aftershave. Sawyer hid a grin. The next woman would follow in a few days, and he wondered how long it would take for everyone to get tired of these welcoming parties.
“You’ll let John pick up the new librarian over my dead body,” Duke barked. “We all know what happened the last time he flew a woman into Hard Luck.”
“I keep telling you that wasn’t my fault.”
“Forget it! I’ll pick her up.” Sawyer looked away from his squabbling pilots in disgust and happened to notice the blackboard where Ben wrote out the daily lunch and dinner specials.
“Beef Wellington?” he asked.
“You got a problem with Beef Wellington?” Ben muttered belligerently. “I’m just trying to show our new librarian that we’re a civilized bunch.”
In Sawyer’s opinion, this whole project didn’t show a lot of promise. He’d bet none of these women would last the winter. The bad feeling he’d experienced when they first discussed the idea had returned tenfold.
“You talk to that Seattle paper yet?” Ben asked, setting a plate of scrambled eggs and toast in front of him.
“No.” Sawyer frowned. The press was becoming a problem. It wasn’t surprising that the media had gotten hold of the situation and wanted to do stories on it. They’d been hounding Sawyer for interviews all week—thanks to Christian, who’d given out his name. He was damn near ready to throttle his younger brother. And he was sorely tempted to have the phone disconnected; if it wasn’t vital for business, he swore he would’ve done it already.
Now that the first woman was actually arriving, Sawyer regretted not discussing The Plan with their oldest brother. Although Charles was a full partner in the flight service, he was employed as a surveyor for Alaska Oil and was often away from Hard Luck for weeks on end. Like right now.
When he did get home, Charles would probably think they’d all lost their minds. Sawyer wouldn’t blame him, either.
“Well, the cabin’s ready, anyway,” Duke said with satisfaction.
After they’d scrubbed down the walls and floors, Sawyer and a few of the men had opened up the storeroom in the lodge and dug out some of the old furniture. Sawyer had expressed doubts about sleeping on mattresses that had been tucked away for so many years, but Pearl and various other women—including several who were wives of pipeline maintenance workers—had aired everything out. They’d assured him that aside from some lingering mustiness, there was nothing to worry about. Everything had been well wrapped in plastic.
As much as Sawyer hated to