High Impact (10 page)

Instead, the waitress, Geneva, stood armed with a tray holding a carafe, mug, cream, and sugar packets. “Hey, Emery. I’m not actually working tonight, but I heard Grizz say you wanted some coffee, so I volunteered.” She smiled coyly as she slipped past Emery and set the tray on the bed.

Before Geneva could turn back around, Emery shot back into the bathroom and closed the door. “Be right out,” she hollered as she hurriedly redressed in her discarded clothes. Modesty, per se, didn’t propel her to avoid having Geneva see her half-dressed; quite possibly they might become intimate, and she always wanted to prepare her lovers. Her many scars had shocked and distracted those she hadn’t, particularly the large rose-shaped knot at the base of her throat where the Bulgarian medic had performed a hasty tracheotomy.

When she emerged in her wrinkled turtleneck and jeans, her hair still wet, she found Geneva perched on the edge of the bed.

“I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable.” Geneva frowned apologetically. “Shouldn’t have just invited myself in.”

“It’s fine.” Emery sat on the bed, too, the tray between them, and poured herself a mug of coffee. “Don’t misinterpret—I’m not incredibly shy. I just…well, I’ll tell you about it some other time, all right?”

“Sure.” Geneva got to her feet, obviously interpreting Emery’s lack of explanation as a signal to leave. “I didn’t mean to disturb you. Just wanted to make sure you’ll join us for dinner. I ran into Bryson downstairs.”

“You didn’t disturb me, Geneva. Really.” Emery studied the dark-haired waitress. She’d already noted that Geneva had a beautiful face and well-proportioned curves, but they’d spent so few seconds together last night and she’d been so tired she remembered little else. Now she could let Geneva know she was interested, so she assessed her openly and appreciatively. The natural sunlight streaming through the window put amber highlights in Geneva’s long, dark hair and played off her smoky-gray eyes and olive skin. She knew how to showcase her natural beauty and killer smile with minimal makeup and jewelry.

Grinning, Emery said, “And yes. I’m looking forward to it. Maybe afterward, you and I can have that drink together or take a walk or something.”

“Or something?” Geneva smiled slyly. “I like the sound of that. I was afraid I came on too strong last night.”

“No, not at all. I was just beat from all the traveling. I’d love to get to know you better.”

“Great. Me, too. I’ll let you finish getting ready and meet you downstairs?”

“See you in a few. Save me a seat.”

“Right next to me.”

After she’d gone, Emery pondered if she hesitated to pursue Geneva because of what Bryson had said.

Emery intended to let Geneva know up front, as she always did with women, that she was just passing through and wanted only some mutual fun and good company. But from what Bryson had said, Geneva fell in love quickly and had been hurt more than once. She didn’t want it happening again, even if Geneva agreed to a brief, no-strings affair. And she didn’t want to risk alienating Bryson just as they began to become friends. Perhaps she should rethink the situation.

She hoped tonight would give her some answers, not only concerning Geneva, but also about the woman at the office—Pasha—and the weird way she’d acted.

Emery changed her clothes and dried her hair, marveling again at the surprises lurking at every turn. Checking her reflection a final time, she absentmindedly brushed the hair out of her eyes. Her bangs needed cutting, but she kept forgetting and hadn’t seen a salon or barbershop in town. Maybe she could hitch a ride with Bryson the next time she headed to Fairbanks.

Filled with optimism about the evening ahead, she took the stairs down to the restaurant two at a time.

Bryson, Geneva, and three of the other women who’d been there the night before waited for Emery at the corner booth. Pasha wasn’t among them. Emery pushed away her unexpected pang of disappointment. A lot of women ran late, and potential new friends sat right in front of her.

Bryson spotted her the instant she hit the doorway and half stood, waving her over. The others all watched her intently, too, and she was glad she’d given some thought to her clothes. She’d left her coat in her room and wore her usual black jeans, her boots, and a thick, black turtleneck sweater that hugged her. Various women had commented favorably on the ensemble, though she didn’t entirely understand the appeal. She crossed the room, grateful the Percocet had kicked in and she had no trace of a limp.

“Hey, Emery. Glad you could join us.” Bryson motioned for her to sit at the end next to Geneva.

“Emery.” Geneva smiled as she slid into the spacious booth, which could seat seven easily, eight in a squeeze. But Geneva stayed put, so their thighs would touch throughout the meal.

“Hi, Bryson. Geneva,” Emery said.

“I’d like you to meet my partner Karla. Karla Edwards.”

Karla extended her hand across the table and smiled warmly. They both had to reach a bit to touch. “Really happy to meet you. Bryson’s been talking about you since she got back.” Emery noted Karla’s short, light-brown hair, hazel eyes, and fair complexion.

“I could feel my ears burning. I’m glad to meet you, too, Karla. Bryson told me a lot about you, as well.”

“Next up is Chaz Herrick.” Bryson indicated the athletic brunette next to Karla with a nod. “She’ll be one of your guides. And her wife, Megan Maxwell. She’s a TV field producer for World News Central.”

“Freelance, now,” Megan said as she and Chaz also extended a hand. “Nice to meet you.”

“I’ll be one of your guides next week on the photography trip,” Chaz said. “Bryson says you know your way around the out of doors.”

“I’ve done some primitive camping. Backpacking, kayaking, and such.”

“Always great when you have someone with previous experience along,” Chaz said. “Though that’ll be most important on the kayak trips, which are my specialty. You going on any of those?”

“Yes, the ten-day one in August.”

“Feel comfortable in a kayak?”

“Up to class four. I know how to roll.”

“Good to know. If we get a lot of newbies, I may have you help watch some of them.”

“Be happy to.”

Grizz materialized at Emery’s elbow with a handful of menus. “What can I get ya, Emery?”

The rest of the table, she noted, drank beer out of a now nearly empty pitcher, except for Megan, who had white wine. “Another pitcher of that and a glass?”

“Coming right up.”

She scanned the menu, though she’d nearly memorized it during breakfast. It offered an enormous and unusual array of dishes for such a remote establishment and played up local resources. To start, every table got a basket of freshly baked sourdough bread, served with butter and homemade aioli. Because of the size of their party, or maybe because they all knew Grizz, they’d gotten a whole loaf. The specialties for dinner included reindeer stew, caribou or elk steaks, cod and king crab, and smoked salmon tacos. And for dessert, the Den recommended their baked Alaska or Ellie’s wild salmonberry crisp with home-churned vanilla ice cream.

“Anything there is good,” Geneva told her. “Usually people order the reindeer stew, the caribou steaks, and the king crab.”

Most of the other women never opened their menus, no doubt because they, too, knew every item.

Grizz returned with their beer and poured Emery a glass, then topped off the others’. “What’ll it be?”

Megan and Chaz both ordered seafood, Bryson got a caribou steak, and Geneva and Karla got the tacos. The dinners all came with salads, and the women selected several different dressings, but Grizz didn’t bother to write down anything. She ordered the crab and asked for ranch dressing before reaching for her beer. She sampled local brews everywhere she traveled, and this one had an orangey-coriander finish, unlike anything she’d tried. “This is very good. What is it?”

A couple of the women giggled, and all of them smiled as Geneva replied. “Panty Peeler.”

“You’re kidding, right?”

More laughs. “No, I’m not,” Geneva said. “It’s a microbrew from a place in Anchorage. The Midnight Sun Brewing Company.”

Bryson raised her glass. “Here’s to welcoming Emery to Bettles and into our little group.”

“Hear, hear” and “Welcome!” and “To Emery!” followed as they all touched glasses across the table.

“So, I’ve met Geneva and Bryson…” Emery said, making brief eye contact with them before turning to Bryson’s partner. “Now, I know Karla’s a nurse…Bryson flew me over your cabin today, by the way. I can imagine how beautiful the view is.”

Karla nodded. “Different every morning, depending on the weather.”

“And Bryson said you worked in an ER in Atlanta. How long have you been here?” Emery asked.

“Two years. I came looking for my long-lost sister, whom I’d never met—Maggie Rasmussen. I found her, and love, too.” Karla stroked Bryson’s arm, and Bryson kissed Karla’s forehead.

“We flew over their cabin, too. Not very near, to be your nearest neighbors,” Emery said.

“Seven miles,” Bryson replied with a sly grin. “Ask Karla to tell you sometime about the first time she tried to do the distance in a boat.”

Karla rolled her eyes. “We laugh about it now, but at the time it wasn’t pretty. Let’s just say newbies should never tackle the wilderness alone. Period. Nearly got my feet frozen off, till Bryson rescued me.”

“Have you had difficulty adjusting to the move?” Emery asked. “I mean, Atlanta is sure polar opposite Bettles in almost every way.”

“Well, when you’re head over heels in love,” Karla said, glancing over again at Bryson with a look of pure adoration, “you kind of don’t notice the isolation or lack of some of the things you once had.” She returned her attention to Emery. “Oh, sure, once in a while I hate that I can’t get an immediate fix for a sushi craving, or that I’ve missed some hot new TV series that everyone who passes through is raving about. And the winters…well, I’m still getting used to seeing the thermometer bottom out at minus fifty. But all in all…I wouldn’t do a thing differently. It’s home, now.”

“Are you both native Alaskans?” Emery asked Chaz and Megan.

“Nearly so, for me,” Chaz said. “My family moved here when I was ten, from a commune in Oregon.”

“I’m a more recent arrival,” Megan replied. “I lived in Chicago and worked as a VP for World News Central. Some friends convinced me to come along on a kayak trip five years ago. Chaz was the guide, and the rest, as they say, is history. We live in Fairbanks during the school year—Chaz is a professor at the University of Alaska.”

“What courses do you teach?” Emery asked.

“I’m in the Biology and Wildlife Department,” Chaz said. “This fall, I’ll have animal behavior and wildlife-population-management classes for undergrads, and foraging ecology for the graduate program.”

“I can understand why you make a good guide.”

“Guess you’ll see for yourself next week. Pasha will be the other,” Chaz told her.

Emery glanced up at the clock over Megan’s head, which read nearly twenty past six. “I sort of met her earlier today. She isn’t joining us?”

“With Dita gone, paperwork swamped her,” Bryson relayed. “Told her to come by when she’s done for a drink, but that stack was pretty impressive. No idea if she’ll make it.”

Before she could say anything else, Grizz emerged from the kitchen juggling plates and headed toward them. Emery marveled at the size of her king-crab legs, so big they hung over the edges of her oversized dinner plate, and the choices set before the others looked equally inviting. By the time they all had their food and had happily chowed down, the moment to ask more about Pasha had passed.

“So you’ve got the 4-11 on all of us.” Megan cracked open one of her crab legs and dipped the delicate meat into her tea-candle butter warmer. “Tell us about you. Bryson says you’re a woman on the move.”

Emery chuckled. “That’s a good way to put it, I guess. Yes, I’m on an extended trip around the world. Using the gazillion frequent-flier miles I logged as a courier and living off my savings, to see and do things I’ve dreamed of all my life.”

“How long have you been traveling?” Megan asked.

“A little over four months. I came here from Europe and go on from here to Asia.”

“Highlights so far?” Megan asked all the questions; no doubt she felt the most comfortable grilling Emery because of her journalism background. But the others all listened keenly to her answers.

“That’s a tough question, because I’ve had a lot. The canals of Venice, the Vatican. Catching and eating fresh seafood on a boat in the Aegean.” Snapshots of her travels until now flashed through her memory. “Hot-air ballooning beside the Pyrenees, bobsledding in Innsbruck, snorkeling off Corsica.”

“Bryson said you struck her as an adrenaline junkie,” Karla said. “She sure wasn’t kidding.”

“I believe you’ve got to live life to the absolute fullest while you can,” Emery said. “And you don’t know what you’re capable of until you push your boundaries.”

“Good attitude in Alaska,” Bryson remarked. “Think you’ll really enjoy your stay.”

“In light of my first twenty-four hours here, I’d say that’s definitely guaranteed. I’m having an amazing time, and it’s such a great bonus to find all of you.”