Midnight Sons Volume 3 (24 page)

“Anything you want to discuss?” Ben asked, sounding eager. “It stays right here. Nothing you tell me goes any further.”

Scott hesitated, then decided to ask about Chrissie. Really, there wasn’t anyone else he
could
ask. Not Susan, who was guaranteed to run to her friend and repeat every word. Not the other pilots, either, or his uncles or aunts. No one in his extended family, that was for sure.

“Is Chrissie seeing anyone special?” he blurted out before he could stop to ponder the wisdom of showing his hand like this.

“Chrissie Harris?” Ben asked as if there were two Chrissies in Hard Luck. He averted his gaze. “As a matter of fact, she is.”

“I see.” So Chrissie
was
involved. It made sense that she would be. Ridiculous though it was, considering their history, he’d hoped she’d be as interested in renewing their relationship as he was.

“I’ve never met him, mind you,” Ben was saying.

“He’s in Fairbanks?”

“So I understand.”

“You hear anything else?”

“Some.” Ben was less forthcoming than usual.

Scott waited patiently.

“I don’t know who he is. I’m probably speaking out of turn by telling you anything.”

“I’d like to know,” Scott said. “I
need
to know,” he thought to himself.

“She visits Joel every second weekend. That’s all I know—Joel, Fairbanks, twice a month. Okay?”

“Does Joel have a last name?” Not that it mattered, but Scott was curious.

“Must have, but no one’s ever told me.”

There’d been a Joel Higgins a year behind him in school—a good athlete, well liked and well adjusted. Needless to say, Scott hadn’t cared for him and dismissed him as a male Goody Two-Shoes.

“Every other Saturday morning, Chrissie flies into Fairbanks and doesn’t return until Sunday afternoon. Generally she comes in here for a bite to eat before heading home. Once in a while she mentions Joel, but she’s pretty closemouthed about him. Let me add one more thing, though,” he said, and paused, frowning heavily. “By the time she steps off that plane, she’s really dragging.”

Scott didn’t need Ben to say another word; he got the picture. Chrissie spent weekends with Joel and arrived back in Hard Luck exhausted. He didn’t need to guess the reason, either. No wonder his sister hadn’t mentioned Chrissie’s involvement with someone else.

Sure as anything she knew, but she hadn’t so much as dropped a hint—because his finding out would ruin everything. Susan, the hopeless romantic, refused to let go of the idea that Scott and Chrissie belonged together.

“Ask her,” Ben advised.

“Ask
Chrissie?
You have to be kidding!”

“Why not?” Ben demanded. “Nothing works better than the direct approach. According to Mary, that’s what women want these days. None of this second-guessing stuff. That went out with the seventies. If nothing else, Chrissie will respect you for being forthright enough to ask.”

“I’ll think about it,” he said reluctantly.

Scott finished his coffee, but when he went to pay, Ben told him it was on the house. His old friend’s generosity hadn’t changed. In addition to a good cup of coffee, he’d given Scott something to think about.

T
HE NEXT FEW DAYS
passed quickly. School had begun again on Tuesday. Wednesday afternoon Scott had an appointment at the law office. He was in the waiting room when Chrissie walked into the reception area. She halted midstep the instant she saw him.

“Hello, Scott,” she said, her voice cool and even.

“Chrissie.” He nodded. Then, feeling the need to explain the purpose of his visit, he added, “I have an appointment with Tracy.”

“Yes, I know.” She held a folder in both hands and wore a slightly puzzled expression, as if she’d forgotten why she’d come out of her office. “I, uh, gather everything’s going very well for you at Midnight Sons.”

“I’m enjoying myself.”

“Everyone’s pleased to have you home.”

“Everyone?” he asked, wondering if she included herself.

“Your family, certainly.” This came after a slight hesitation.

“I had coffee at Ben’s the other day,” he said casually, hoping to ease into a more comfortable conversation. “I swear he hasn’t changed at all.”

“He’s wonderful. So is Mary.”

A short silence followed, which Chrissie broke. “I understand Matt and Karen rented you one of the renovated cabins.”

So she’d been checking up on him. That was encouraging. Maybe, just maybe, she still cared. That thought gave him the courage to ask her out. “I was thinking you and I might have a drink one afternoon,” he suggested.

Her eyes widened and her hands tightened on the folder.

“A drink,” she repeated slowly. “At Ben’s?”

He nodded. “Or dinner, if you prefer.”

She squared her shoulders and chewed her lower lip before answering. “I don’t think so.”

He shrugged, as if her refusal was of little consequence to him. “That’s too bad. I had a few things I wanted to discuss with you.”

Chrissie’s expressive eyes had always told him what was on her mind before she uttered a word.

“You had something you wanted to talk to me about?” she finally said.

“Yeah.”

She worried her lower lip further. “Maybe…” She hesitated, then seemed to regain her resolve. “I don’t think so, Scott,” she said again. “Thanks, anyway.” She turned away to enter her office.

“How long do you intend to avoid me?” he called after her.

At his question, she turned back. “Avoid you? Don’t flatter yourself. What I
intend
to do is live my life just the way I am now.”

“You obviously have every intention of avoiding me.”

“I have
every intention
of not seeking you out. That’s not the same thing.”

“I see.”

“Apparently you don’t,” she returned in her best lawyer voice. “You’re out of my life, Scott. That was your choice, not mine.”

“People change, Chrissie. They—”

“Oh, no, you don’t,” she interrupted, waving her finger at him. “You’re not going to do this to me. Not again.”

“I asked you out for a drink. I wasn’t proposing we move in together.”

“Oh, sure, a drink—for old times’ sake.”

“No,” he corrected. “A drink to clear the air. I deserve that much, don’t I?”

Her eyes flared with outrage. “What you deserve, Scott O’Halloran, is a slap across the face.” She raised her chin so high she threatened to put her neck out of joint. “All right,” she said abruptly. “Fine. As a matter of fairness I’ll have a drink with you.”

Scott felt a surge of hope. “When?”

“Friday night at the party.”

Scott frowned. “What party?”

“The party your parents are—” She bit off the rest of the sentence.

“Chrissie?”

Squeezing her eyes shut, she slowly exhaled. “Oh, darn, it’s supposed to be a surprise.”

T
HURSDAY MORNING
Karen Caldwell poured her husband a second cup of coffee, then joined him in the massive kitchen at the Hard Luck Lodge. Working as a team, they’d built the lodge into one of the most popular tourist destinations in the state. It’d taken fifteen years of blood, sweat and tears. They were equal partners, Karen and Matt, not only in business, but in life.

During those years they’d also had three children and managed to create a warm nurturing home for their family.

Clay, their eldest, had been the best surprise of their lives, conceived while they were divorced and living apart. The pregnancy was what had brought them back to their senses. Clay was in high school now. The girls, Jill and Emily, were nine and eleven respectively.

Clay was a lot like Karen—steady and capable. Jill and Emily were more like Matt—creative but a bit unfocused. The focus part would come in time, the way it had with their father, Karen believed.

“What are you thinking about?” Matt asked when Karen sat down across from him at the table. In a flurry of activity and near-panic, the girls had flown out the door for school. After the long summer break they were having trouble resuming the discipline of waking up early. Only a few minutes ago, Jill had been searching for her misplaced backpack. While her sister dashed frantically about, Emily had slapped together lunch for both of them. Now, with the girls gone, blessed silence enveloped the kitchen.

“It’s not what, it’s who,” she told him. “I’m thinking about Scott.”

“It’s good to see him again, isn’t it?”

Karen knew Matt was pleased about renting out one of the cabins on a long-term basis, especially to Scott, whom they both liked. “He’s still hung up on Chrissie, isn’t he?” Karen asked, knowing her husband had talked to Scott a number of times.

Matt shrugged, and Karen rolled her eyes. In her opinion, most men were hopeless when it came to romance; Matt was no exception. And Scott—well, as a kid he’d had delusions of romantic expertise.

“Don’t you remember what Scott told us just before Clay was born?” she asked her husband.

Matt chuckled. “That was a lot of years ago.”

Karen’s memory was good, and this particular incident had stayed with her. She smiled, recalling the day the young boy had stood resolutely before her. “He said he was responsible for bringing the two of us back together. In fact, he felt we owed our reconciliation to him.”

Matt burst out laughing. “Scott’s the one who said I should take you camping.”

“In order to wine and dine me, right?” Karen muttered. Scott’s idea of creating a romantic mood was that Matt should drag her and all the necessary and assorted gear to his favorite fishing place. Apparently Scott believed that sleeping on the ground, battling off mosquito attacks, plus catching, cleaning and cooking all their meals would rekindle their love. All this when Karen was several months pregnant with Clay. What a disaster
that
had been.

For one thing, fishing had never been her forte, and Matt had been furious when she’d nearly lost his favorite rod and pole. Then she’d fallen in the river and gotten drenched from head to toe. Matt had managed to catch fish after fish, and all she’d caught was a miserable cold, as if pregnancy hadn’t made her uncomfortable enough. By the time she returned to Hard Luck, it was a miracle they were even speaking to each other.

“Scott used to see himself as quite the matchmaker, didn’t he?”

They exchanged smiles across the table, smiles that quickly turned into laughter as the memories continued to surface.

“You know what I think?” Karen said, reaching for her coffee. She held the mug in front of her lips as she mulled over her idea. “Turnabout is fair play.”

Matt stared at her. “Oh, I don’t know about that…. Anyway, this is none of our business. They—”

Karen went on as though he hadn’t spoken. “We could arrange for Scott to take Chrissie someplace he once considered wildly romantic…like, I don’t know, the garbage dump? Didn’t he suggest we go out there and watch the bears?”

Matt chuckled. “
Scott
will think that’s fun, but I’m not so sure about Chrissie.”

“True,” Karen agreed. “Hmm. All we need to do is figure how to get the two of them alone. Given a little time, I bet they’d work everything out.”

“At the garbage dump?”

Karen rolled her eyes again. “Someplace else.
You
come up with a spot. You’re the creative one in the family.”

“Karen, be sensible. First of all, you don’t have any real evidence that Chrissie still feels the same way about Scott.”

“She does,” Karen said. “I’m positive.”

“Okay, so they went together for a while, but that was ages ago.”

“Chrissie’s loved Scott from the time she was a kid.”

Matt seemed to require a moment to think about that. “All right, Chrissie loves Scott. But how will Mitch feel about all this? I didn’t get the impression he’s too thrilled to have Scott back in town.”

Her husband had a point. Mitch Harris was Chrissie’s father and represented the law in Hard Luck. Scott wasn’t a bad kid, but he and Mitch had clashed a number of times when Scott was in his teens. Not that the boy’s misdemeanors were anything new in Hard Luck; other teens were guilty of similar behavior. The difference was Chrissie’s relationship with him. Father and daughter had argued over Scott more than once. Mitch had refused to make allowances for his daughter’s boyfriend, regardless of her desperate pleas. Karen knew Mitch had breathed a sigh of relief when Scott left Hard Luck, despite Chrissie’s broken heart.

“Mitch never disliked Scott,” Matt said. “If anything, he was doing him a favor by making him accountable for his actions.”

“I know, but…”

Studying her, Matt set his mug aside. “What’s gotten into you? I’ve never known you to meddle in anyone’s love life before. Why now?”

Karen sighed and realized her husband was right; this wasn’t
her usual style. Still, what had happened between Scott and Chrissie bothered her for some reason, bothered her a lot, and she felt a mother’s urge to fix things. Maybe she was being fanciful, but Karen saw in Chrissie the same kind of pain she herself had once felt.

“If Scott and Chrissie are meant to be together,” Matt said, relaxing in his chair, “then it’ll happen without any interference from us.”

“Don’t be so sure,” she murmured.

“Karen!”

“I can’t help myself,” she protested. “I’ve seen the look on Chrissie’s face when anyone mentions Scott’s name. And the same is true of Scott. I know what it’s like to love someone so much that the hurt only seems to get worse. When we got divorced, it just about killed me.”

“Me, too,” Matt said quietly, his gaze sobering.

“We were both stubborn and afraid and in pain.” Those weren’t times Karen ever wanted to relive. Pregnant and alone in California, afraid to tell Matt about the baby, afraid not to.

“And both of us in love.”

“Not that it helped us communicate any better.” They’d been defensive and bitter. In those days it’d been impossible to talk without their discussions erupting into arguments.

Matt reached across the table and squeezed her hand. “The part about me loving you hasn’t changed. All these years together proves it.”

On rare occasions, her husband could actually be romantic. And it was more meaningful because Karen knew it was genuine and heart-deep, never a mere gesture.

“So you want to help Scott get back together with Chrissie?” he asked, sounding resigned.

“If we can,” she said. “But we can’t tell anyone.” Whatever they did would have to be on the sly. Maybe a private conversation between Matt and Scott? Or a little confidential “girls’ talk”? They’d have to figure out the best approach.

“It’ll be our secret,” Matt agreed.

They emptied their leftover coffee in the sink and then, with a quick kiss, went about their busy days.

C
HRISSIE ARRIVED
at Scott’s “surprise party” early Friday evening. His mother opened the door, and Chrissie instantly lowered her gaze, feeling dreadful that she’d been the one to spoil the surprise. Immediately following her second run-in with Scott, Chrissie had called Abbey and confessed her faux pas. As always, Abbey had been gracious and forgiven her mistake.

“Chrissie, would you stop?” Abbey said now, leading her into the large family home. “A surprise party was a ridiculous idea, anyway. I’m glad Scott knows, because it took away the pressure. Come inside and make yourself comfortable.”

Chrissie didn’t think that was possible. If not for Susan, she’d have found a convenient excuse to miss this event. Susan, however, wouldn’t have let her live it down.

Neither would Scott.

She’d say one thing about Scott O’Halloran—he was determined. That morning, when she got to work, she’d found a lovely bouquet of roses. Not just any roses, but red ones—a dozen perfectly formed buds. The card had read simply
Scott.

Chrissie suspected he’d purchased them in Fairbanks the day before. Not that she was about to let a few beautiful roses sway her decision—although they must have cost a fortune.

It would take more than flowers. A lot more! As soon as
the thought went through her mind, Chrissie tensed. No. She refused to even
consider
any kind of reconciliation. She refused to give Scott the power—or the opportunity—to hurt her again. He wasn’t going to find himself back in her good graces. No way! She’d be civil, but that was it. He was part of her past, not her future.

With a quick detour to exchange hugs with Christian and Mariah O’Halloran, Chrissie headed straight for Susan, who was in the kitchen fussing with a variety of hors d’oeuvres. She slid them, hot from the oven, onto large ceramic platters. “Chrissie!” she cried when she saw her. “I
knew
you’d come.”

Grumbling, Chrissie reached for a green olive and munched on that, rather than argue. There was no point in explaining that she was here only under protest.

“Have you seen Scott?” Susan asked.

“No.” As much as possible, Chrissie planned to spend the night avoiding him—which was exactly what he’d accused her of. Too bad, she told herself firmly. She had no choice. Anyway, his opinion of her behavior was irrelevant.

“He is the guest of honor, you know.”

Chrissie sent her friend a dirty look and Susan laughed good-naturedly. Susan was pregnant and although the apron barely fit around her extended belly, she looked beautiful and healthy—and very happy. Ron was in the family room, chatting with friends. Chrissie caught a glimpse of him as he glanced at his wife. A pang of envy shot through her at the love, the adoration, she saw in his eyes.

“Let me take those mushrooms out for you,” Chrissie said, and Susan handed her the oven mitts. Keeping busy was the key, she decided. Standing around making idle chatter, wondering where Scott was—and how to stay out of his vicinity—
would quickly drive her insane. She had to ignore the fact that he was somewhere in this crowded room…and probably watching her.

Picking up the large platter required two hands. A moment later, she was walking into the family room, balancing it carefully, when without warning Scott appeared directly in front of her.

Chrissie couldn’t think of a thing to say. Not a single thing. She stood there, doing an excellent imitation of an ice sculpture—cold and unmoving.

“Did you like the roses?” he asked.

“They were very nice.” She kept her voice expressionless.

“Thoughtful, too, don’t you agree?” He turned toward his sister and winked.

Obviously the flowers had been Susan’s idea. Chrissie should’ve known her friend had put him up to this.

She purposely hardened her heart and stared at him, her composure intact. “I’m afraid you wasted your money.” Then she sidestepped him and marched into the other room, her tray of mushrooms aloft.

This wasn’t the first time Scott had sought her out at a party; the last occasion had been after her college graduation. He’d pulled her aside and told her a batch of lies about how much he’d missed her and wanted her back in his life. She’d been so crazy in love with him she’d believed every word. The memory chilled her blood. She’d been gullible and naive, but she wasn’t anymore.

The O’Halloran home was crowded, and Chrissie wove her way in and out, smiling, chatting, offering hors d’oeuvres to the guests while Abbey welcomed late arrivals. These included Chrissie’s dad, Mitch Harris, and her stepmother, Bethany. She paused, still holding her tray, and kissed both of them in
greeting. She and Bethany chatted for a few minutes as Mitch moved toward Sawyer, then Chrissie resumed her duties. It might’ve been her imagination, but she sensed that everyone was watching her. She had the definite suspicion that all the interest she was generating had nothing to do with crab-stuffed mushroom caps.

She was about to return to the kitchen when Scott sneaked up behind her. “We were going to have a talk, remember?”

“No, I don’t remember! I didn’t agree to that,” she informed him stiffly. “As far as I’m concerned, there’s nothing to discuss.”

“I want to clear the air,” Scott persisted.

“The air’s as clear as it’s going to get.” She edged away.

Scott followed. “Not from where I’m standing.”

He was making this awfully hard. Chrissie could feel herself weakening; she couldn’t allow that to happen.

“Could I have everyone’s attention?” Sawyer called as he stepped into the center of the room. He held a bottle of champagne in one hand and a flute glass in the other. Abbey, Mariah and several other people appeared with champagne bottles and trays of glasses, pouring drinks for all the guests.

“We’ll continue this discussion later,” Scott said in a low voice.

“I told you before—there’s nothing to discuss,” Chrissie insisted, her voice carrying farther than she would’ve liked. A number of people turned to look in their direction.

“Our son is home to stay,” Abbey said, tears of happiness brightening her eyes.

Sawyer slipped his arm around Abbey’s waist. “And he’s now a full partner in Midnight Sons.” He raised his champagne glass. “I’d like to propose a toast. To Scott. Welcome home, son.”