at his desk in the Midnight Sons office. Determined to make some headway in replacing Mariah, he reached for the file folder that held the pertinent applications.
Leaning back in his chair, he read over a number of résumés. Several applicants were vastly overqualified. Others had little or no relevant experience, just an eagerness for adventure. Christian decided they wouldn’t work out, either. Neither he nor Sawyer had time to train a replacement.
Discouraged, he set the file aside and promised himself he’d read through it again later, when he was ready to deal with the problem. What he wanted of course, what he hoped would happen, was that Mariah would realize she wasn’t cut out for the restaurant business and return to Midnight Sons. Now that she knew Allison Reynolds wouldn’t be coming, there was no reason to be stubborn.
Sawyer arrived half an hour after Christian, clearly surprised to find his brother at the office so early.
“I’ve been working on finding a replacement for Mariah,” Christian told Sawyer. What he failed to mention was that he hadn’t found a résumé or application that suited him yet. Nor did he think it was a good idea to admit he was holding out, hoping Mariah would have a change of heart.
Sawyer nodded.
“You want to give me some help here?” He supposed they might as well go through the motions. “Perhaps we should try for an older woman this time, someone mature,” he suggested.
“Sure.” Sawyer didn’t sound as if he particularly cared.
“Someone methodical,” Christian said next. “I don’t care how fast she types, as long as she’s accurate.” He wrote that down on the pad.
“Okay with me,” Sawyer murmured while preparing a pot of coffee.
The coffee had always been made before they arrived at the office—by Mariah. Not that they weren’t capable of making coffee themselves. But it was generous of her to do it without being asked. Christian hadn’t given the matter more than a passing thought until just that moment. In fact, Mariah had willingly taken on a number of small tasks that made their lives easier.
“She should have a good attitude,” Christian went on.
“I agree,” Sawyer said with conviction. “I don’t want someone to come in here asking what we can do for her. I’m much more interested in what she can do for us, especially since we’re the ones paying her wages.”
Christian added “good attitude” to the list, and with Sawyer’s help came up with several other qualities. They found it vital that the new secretary be prompt and professional. Loyal and responsible. Because they did so much of their business over the phone, a pleasant phone manner was essential.
As Christian read over the qualifications for Mariah’s replacement, it became obvious that—except for the “older” part—they’d described Mariah herself.
Christian felt suddenly troubled. How could he have been so...so misguided? The perfect candidate had been there all along, and it had taken him all this time to see it. For twelve months he’d been hoping she’d leave; now that she was gone, he wanted her back. Something was definitely wrong, and he had the feeling that whatever was askew had to do with him.
“Have you got someone yet?” Sawyer asked ten minutes later.
“No!” Christian snapped. “How could I?”
“Well, read through those applications, would you? The sooner we get someone here, the better. We can’t expect Lanni to fill in for long.”
“I understand that,” Christian returned impatiently.
“Charles was against Lanni coming to work for us in the first place,” Sawyer went on, “but she insisted—said a few days away from her writing wouldn’t matter. She’ll be in this afternoon.”
Christian didn’t understand why Sawyer was in such an all-fired hurry. He’d already gone through the file a second time and hadn’t found a suitable applicant. Nor did he share his brother’s sense of urgency. This wasn’t something that needed to be done right that very minute.
Brother worked amicably with brother for the remainder of the morning. Their staff of pilots wandered in and out of the office, as was their habit, before heading out to the hangar to complete their assignments for the day.
“Who’s going to make up the flight schedule?” Sawyer asked.
In the past Mariah had seen to it.
“You do it this week and I’ll do it next,” Christian suggested in what he felt was a fair compromise.
“Oh, so you’ll do it next week,” Sawyer muttered sarcastically. “You’d better have hired a replacement long before then.”
Before next week! Sawyer didn’t actually expect someone to drop her entire life because of a phone call, did he? Christian doubted he’d find a replacement willing to move to the Arctic just like that. These things took time, lots of time.
Duke Porter was the last pilot to drop by the office that morning. He walked in, glared at Christian and announced, “Mariah’s working at Ben’s.”
“Yes, I know.” Christian studied the pilot. Although Mariah had assured him there was nothing between her and Duke, Christian couldn’t help wondering.
“Why?” Duke was still glaring at him.
“You’ll have to ask her.” Christian wouldn’t mind having the answer to that himself.
“I’m asking you,” Duke said in a way that laid the blame squarely on Christian’s shoulders.
“I don’t know why she quit,” he mumbled, and realized that wasn’t completely true. “I have my suspicions, but none I’d care to discuss.”
“It isn’t the same around here without Mariah,” Duke complained, setting aside his clipboard. “A man becomes accustomed to things being done a certain way.”
“What do you mean?” Sawyer asked. “It’s still the same office, same business.”
“Well, it’s too quiet in here. A man could get, I don’t know, bored.”
“Bored,” Sawyer repeated.
“Bored,” Duke said again, with more certainty this time. “Before, it was fun to watch Mariah tiptoe around Christian. She used to make these hilarious faces at him behind his back.”
“She did what?” Christian was outraged, then amused. That sounded like something she’d do, and in retrospect he didn’t hold it against her. He had been kind of a jerk.
“Who could blame her?” Duke asked. “For making faces or leaving. Christian was always on her case for one reason or another, but she was a good sport about it.” He turned to Christian. “Everyone knew you were looking for an excuse to fire her. But without Mariah around, it’s...it’s like someone dimmed the lights in here.”
Christian was inclined to argue, but realized Duke was right. In more ways than one.
“Do you?” Duke pressed. “Blame her for leaving?”
“I guess I can’t,” Christian admitted in a grudging voice.
The pilot seemed surprised that Christian had agreed so readily. “You going to get her back?”
Christian desperately hoped so, but he couldn’t guarantee it. With luck, Mariah would figure out that waitressing wasn’t for her. She had all kinds of abilities that were wasted at the café, although he had to concede she baked a fine apple pie.
Duke left after a few more admonitions, and Christian started thinking about what the bush pilot had said. He wasn’t going to plead with her to come back, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t willing to make a few subtle suggestions.
“Will you be all right if I drop in at Ben’s for a few minutes?” he asked