Midnight Sons Volume 1 (3 page)

Abbey took several calming breaths before walking up to the hotel desk and giving her name.

“Mr. O’Halloran’s taking interviews in the Snoqualmie Room on the second floor,” the clerk told her.

Abbey’s fingers tightened around her résumé as she headed for the escalator. Her heart pounded heavily, feeling like a lead weight in her chest.

Her decision to apply for this position had understandably received mixed reactions. Both Scott and Susan were excited about the prospect of a new life in Hard Luck, but Abbey’s parents were hesitant.

Marie Murray would miss spoiling her grandchildren. Abbey’s father, Wayne, was convinced she didn’t know what she’d be getting into moving to the frozen north. But he seemed to forget that she made her living in a library. Soon after placing the initial call, Abbey had checked out a number of excellent
books about life in Alaska. Her research had told her everything she wanted to know—and more.

Nevertheless, she’d already decided to accept the job if it was offered. No matter how cold the winters were, living in Hard Luck would be better than having to accept money from her parents.

Abbey found the Snoqualmie Room easily enough and glanced inside. A lean, rawboned man in his early thirties sat at a table reading intently. The hotel staff must have thought applicants would arrive thirsty, because they’d supplied a pitcher of ice water and at least two dozen glasses.

“Hello,” she said with a polite smile. “I’m Abbey Sutherland.”

“Abbey.” The man stood abruptly as if she’d caught him unawares. “I’m Christian O’Halloran. We spoke on the phone.” He motioned to the seat on the other side of the table. “Make yourself comfortable.”

She sat and handed him her résumé.

He barely looked at it before setting it aside. “Thank you. I’ll read this later.”

Abbey nervously folded her hands in her lap and waited.

“You’re applying for the position of librarian, right?”

“Yes. I’m working toward my degree in library science.”

“In other words, you’re not a full librarian.”

“That’s correct. In Washington state, a librarian is required to have a master’s degree in library science. For the last two years I’ve worked as an assistant librarian for King County.” She paused. Christian O’Halloran was difficult to read. “I answer reference questions, do quick information retrieval and cus
tomer service, and of course I have computer skills.” She hesitated, wondering if she should continue.

“That sounds perfect. Hard Luck doesn’t exactly have a library at the moment. We do have a building of sorts….”

“Books?”

“Oh, yes, hundreds of those. At least a thousand. They were a gift to the town, and we need someone who’s capable of handling every aspect of organizing a library.”

“I’d be fully capable of that.” She listed a number of responsibilities she’d handled in her job with the King County library system. Somehow, though, Abbey couldn’t shake the feeling that Christian O’Halloran wasn’t really interested in hearing about her qualifications.

He mentioned the pay, and although it wasn’t as much as she was earning with King County, she wouldn’t need to worry about rent.

A short silence followed, almost as if he wasn’t sure what else to ask.

“Could you tell me a little about the library building?” she ventured.

He nodded. “Actually it was a home at one time—my grandfather’s original homestead, in fact—but I don’t think you’d have much of a problem turning it into a library, would you?”

“Probably not.”

Already, Abbey’s mind was at work, dividing up the house. One of the bedrooms could be used for fiction, another for nonfiction. The dining room would be perfect for a reading room, or it could be set up as an area for children.

“You understand that life in Hard Luck isn’t going to be
anything like Seattle,” Christian commented, breaking into her thoughts.

Her father had said that very thing the day before. “I realize that.” She paused for a moment. “Could I ask you about the house and the land you’re offering?”

“Of course.”

“Well, uh, could you tell me about the house?”

She waited.

“It’s more of a cabin, and I’d describe it as…rustic.” He seemed to stumble on the word. “It definitely has a…rural feel. Don’t get me wrong, it’s comfortable, but it’s different from what you’re used to.”

“I’m sure it is. Tell me about Hard Luck.”

The man across from her relaxed. “It’s probably the most beautiful place on earth. You might think I’m prejudiced and I can’t very well deny it. I guess you’ll have to form your own opinion.

“In summer there’s sunlight nearly twenty-four hours a day. That’s when the wildflowers bloom. I swear every color under the sun bursts to life almost overnight. The forests and tundra turn scarlet and gold and burnt orange.”

“It sounds lovely.” And it did. “What about the winters?”

“Oh, yes. Well, again, it’s beautiful, but the beauty is kind of…stark. Pristine’s a good word. I don’t think anyone’s really lived until they’ve seen our light show.”

“The aurora borealis.”

Christian smiled approvingly. “I’m not going to lie to you,” he continued. “It gets mighty cold. In winter it isn’t uncommon for the temperature to drop to forty or fifty below.”

“My goodness.” Although Abbey knew this, hearing him say it reinforced the reality.

“On those days, almost everything closes down. We don’t generally fly when it’s that cold. It’s too hard on the planes, and even harder on the pilots.”

Abbey nodded; he’d told her about Midnight Sons, the O’Halloran brothers’ air charter service, during their phone conversation.

“What about everything else?” she asked. “Like the school. Does it close down, too?” He’d also explained in their previous conversation that Hard Luck had a school that went from kindergarten to twelfth grade.

“Life in town comes to a standstill, and we all sort of snuggle together. There’s nothing to do in weather that cold but wait it out. Most days, we manage to keep the school open, though.” He shrugged. “We rely on one another in Hard Luck. We have to.”

“What about food?”

“We’ve got a grocery store. It’s not a supermarket, mind you, but it carries the essentials. Everyone in town stocks up on supplies once a year. But if you run out of anything, there’s always the grocery. If Pete Livengood—he’s the guy who owns it—if he doesn’t have what you need, one of the pilots can pick it up for you. Midnight Sons makes daily flights into Fairbanks, so it isn’t like you’re stuck there.”

“What about driving to Fairbanks? When I looked up Hard Luck, I couldn’t make out any roads. There is one, isn’t there?”

“Sure there is—in a manner of speaking,” Christian said proudly. “We got ourselves a haul road a few years back.”

Abbey was relieved. If she did get the job, she’d have to have her furniture and other household effects delivered; without a road, that would obviously have been a problem. Flying them was sure to be prohibitively expensive.

“Do you have any more questions for me?” she asked.

“None.” Christian looked at his watch. “Would you mind filling out the application form while you’re here? I’ll be holding interviews for the next day or so. I’ll call you tomorrow afternoon, if that’s all right.”

Abbey stood. “That’d be fine.”

Christian gave her the one-page application, which she completed quickly and gave back to him.

He rose from behind the table and extended his hand. “It was a pleasure to meet you.”

“You, too.” Even before she’d come in for the interview, she’d known she’d accept the position if it was offered to her. She needed a job, needed to support her family. If that meant traveling to the ends of the earth, she’d do it. But as she turned to walk away, Abbey realized she not only needed this position, she
wanted
it. Badly.

She loved the idea of creating her own library. But it wasn’t just the challenge of the job that excited her. She’d watched this man’s eyes light up as he talked about his home. When he said Hard Luck was beautiful, he’d said it with sincerity, with passion. When he told her about the tundra and the forest, she could imagine their beauty. She’d seen plenty of photographs and even a
National Geographic
documentary, but it was his words that truly convinced her. More than that,
excited
her.

“Mr. O’Halloran?” she said, surprising herself.

He was already seated, leafing intently through a sheaf of papers. He glanced up. “Yes?”

“If you decide to hire me, I promise I’ll do a good job for you and the people in Hard Luck.”

He nodded. “And I promise I’ll phone you soon.”

“Well?” Scott looked at Abbey expectantly when she walked into the house. “How’d the interview go?”

Abbey slipped off her pumps and curled her toes into the carpet. “Fine—I think.”

“Will you get the job?”

Abbey didn’t want to build up her son’s hopes. “I don’t know, honey. Where’s Missy?” Since she paid the teenage babysitter top dollar, she expected her to stay with Scott and Susan for the agreed-upon number of hours.

“Her mother wanted her to put a roast in the oven at four-thirty. Susan went with her. They’ll be back soon.”

Abbey collapsed into her favorite chair and dangled her arms over the sides. Her feet rested on the ottoman.

“Are you finished your homework?” she asked.

“I don’t have any. There’s only a couple more weeks left of school.”

“I know.”

Abbey dreaded the summer months. Every year, day camp and babysitting were more and more expensive. Scott was getting old enough to resent having a teenager stay with him. Not that Abbey blamed him. Before she knew it, her son would be thirteen himself.

“Would it be okay if I went over to Jason’s house?” he asked eagerly. “I’ll be home in time for dinner.”

Abbey nodded, but she knew it wasn’t the other boy he was interested in seeing. It was those puppies that’d captured his nine-year-old heart.

Sawyer walked into the long, narrow structure that sat next to the gravel-and-dirt runway. The mobile served as the office for Midnight Sons. Eventually they hoped to build a real office. That had been on the agenda for the past eight years—ever since they’d started the business. During those years, Charles and Sawyer had built their own homes. Sawyer’s was across the street from Christian’s place, which had been the O’Halloran family home. Charles’s house was one street over—not that there were paved streets in Hard Luck.

But they’d been too busy running Midnight Sons—flying cargo and passengers, hiring pilots, negotiating contracts and all the other myriad responsibilities that came with a business like theirs. Constructing an office building was just another one of those things they hadn’t gotten around to doing.

Exhausted, Sawyer threw himself down on the hard-backed swivel chair at Christian’s desk. Cleaning those old cabins was proving to be hard work. Much more of this, he thought ruefully, and he was going to end up with dishpan hands.

He’d been astonished—and impressed—by the willingness of their pilots to pitch in and make those old cabins livable. One thing was for sure; the log structures were solid. A few minor repairs, lots of soapy water and a little attention had done wonders. Not that a forty-year-old log cabin was going to
impress a city girl. More than likely, the women Christian hired would take one look at those shacks and book the next flight south.

The phone pealed and Sawyer reached for it. As he did, he noticed the message light blinking.

“Midnight Sons.”

“Where have you been all day?” Christian grumbled. “I’ve left three messages. I’ve been sitting here waiting for you to call me back.”

“Sorry,” Sawyer muttered, biting back the temptation to offer to trade places. While Christian was gallivanting all over kingdom come securing airplane parts, talking to travel agents,
meeting women
and generally having a good time, Sawyer had been wielding a mop and pail. In Sawyer’s opinion, his younger brother had gotten the better end of this deal. As for himself, he’d seen enough cobwebs in the past week to last him a lifetime.

“You can tell Duke I found him a blonde,” Christian announced triumphantly. “Her name’s Allison Reynolds, and she’s going to be our secretary—well, maybe.”

Sawyer’s jaw tightened as he made an effort to hold back his irritation. “What’re her qualifications?”

“You mean other than being blond?” Christian asked, then chuckled. “I’m telling you, Sawyer, I’ve never seen anything like this in my life. I placed the ad in the Seattle paper, and the answering service has been swamped. There are a lot of lonely women in this world.”

“Does our new secretary know she’ll be living in a log cabin
without
the comforts of home?”

“Naturally I told her about the cabin, but, uh, I didn’t have a chance to go into all the details.”

“Christian! That’s hardly a detail. She’ll be expecting to see modern plumbing, not a path to the outhouse. Women don’t like that kind of surprise.”

“I didn’t want to scare her off,” he argued.

“She deserves the truth.”

“I know, I know. Actually I offered her the position and she’s thinking it over. If she decides to accept the job, I’ll give her more information.”

“You mean to tell me that out of all the women who applied, you chose one who isn’t even sure she wants the job?” Sawyer didn’t often fly off the handle, but his brother was annoying him more than usual.

“Trust me, Allison wants the position,” Christian insisted. “She just needs to think about it. I would, too, in the circumstances.” He paused. “Our ad certainly attracted a lot of attention.”

Sawyer had carefully gone over the ad they’d submitted to the Seattle and Portland papers. He’d been concerned that they not inadvertently put in anything that might be misleading or violate the antidiscrimination laws. So there was nothing in the ad to suggest a man couldn’t apply. No one wanted to deal with a lawsuit a few weeks down the road.

“I must’ve talked to at least thirty women in the past couple of days,” Christian said, his voice ringing with enthusiasm. “And there were that many more phone inquiries.”