Sharing Spaces (13 page)

“We'll be ready.”

He nodded and left, taking the jug of milk with him. It figured Wavey would have a kitten. Something fuzzy and adorable, something that cuddled and purred. Senna watched him stride down the dock, untie the cleat ropes, and climb into the plane. She felt Chilkat nudge her hand as she watched the plane take off and dropped her fingers to stroke the top of the old dog's head. “A kitten,” she said, disgusted, then returned to the kitchen to kindle a fire in the woodstove and start a pot of coffee.

The kitchen warmed up in jig time and she carried the first cup of coffee with her into the living room. Charlie was bundled in his sleeping bag on the couch sound asleep with Ula curled beside him, eyes open, watching her. She sat down at the admiral's desk and sipped her coffee, sorting through lodge construction invoices, unpaid electric and gas bills, charge slips from a lumber company in St. John's, an overdraft charge from the bank and a ledger that tracked hours worked but didn't specify who had worked them. Great.

She knew it was her savings account that was going to pay Wavey and Gordina, as well as all these outstanding bills…and there were a lot of them. She'd have to keep careful track of her expenses so that Jack could refund her what he owed. In the meantime, there was a pack of hungry sled dogs waiting to be fed. She'd pay these bills when she finished the dog chores, and, she hoped, everything would be in order by the time Jack returned.

Chilkat once again supervised her trip to the dog yard
and stood guard while she scooped out their morning meal. She was so preoccupied with a million and one lodge start-up conundrums that she forgot to be nervous about the huskies that jumped and whirled with excitement as she dished up breakfast. She even scolded one for trying to stuff its head in the bucket as she walked through its circle. Feeding done, she cleaned the entire dog yard, then made sure all the water buckets were topped off. She wasn't surprised that she had to break a skim of ice on many of them. Last night's rain had turned to snow before it tapered off, and this morning the black spruce were quite beautiful in the dawn, standing at attention like frosted soldiers in the early light.

Back at the lake house Senna called her mother and told her everything that had happened. “Your grandfather's business partner sounds like he has a lot of energy for an old man,” her mother commented when she'd related their activities of the past two days.

“Jack's probably somewhere in his mid-thirties.”

“My goodness. When you told me he was younger than you thought he'd be, I didn't realize he was
that
young. How did he and the admiral happen to go into business together?”

“Dad was his commanding officer. He accompanied Dad and the admiral on a fishing trip to Labrador, and, strange as it may seem, they struck up a friendship.”

“Will wonders never cease. So you're planning to help open the lodge?”

“Showing that it's a potentially profitable concern is the only way I'll ever be able to sell my half of the business. Anyway, I thought you'd want an update. We're flying back to the lodge this morning with our two new hires. God only knows how they'll work out.”

Her mother laughed. “All you can do is hope for the best and prepare for the worst.”

“Amen to that. Wish me luck, Mom. Love you.”

As soon as she'd hung up the phone, it surprised her by ringing. When she answered she was surprised even further to hear Tim's voice on the other end of the line. “I'm just calling to make sure you're okay,” he said as if in apology.

“I'm fine, Tim. Very busy,” Senna said with a pang of guilt. She hadn't thought about him at all in the past day, though he was still obviously upset about their recent separation.

“Listen, I know it might have been presumptuous of me, but I have some contacts in the insurance field and I sort of put out the word that you were trying to sell a fishing lodge in Labrador. Turns out one of my coworkers has an acquaintance who works in the real-estate division of Sotheby's in New York City. He wondered if you could take some digital pictures of the lodge and e-mail them back. There's a good chance he could find a buyer for your half of the business before the end of the summer.”

Senna was momentarily taken aback. “Wow. That's fast work.”

“I want to help. You know that. No matter what becomes of us, I'll always be your friend.”

“Thanks. I appreciate that. I'll try and get some pictures to you and a description of the property.”

There was a pause, then Tim spoke. “I know I shouldn't say this, but I really miss you.”

“Tim…”

“I know. I'm hanging up now. Just take care of yourself, okay?”

Senna hung up the phone and dropped her head into her hands with a moan.

 

J
ACK STAYED AT THE LODGE
just long enough to unload the two women, their bags, Wavey's frightened kitten and the jug of milk onto the dock, and then carry the heavy crate holding Goody's coopies up the steep ramp to the chicken shed behind the cook's cabin. He invited Wavey and Gordina to explore the lodge in his absence, instructed them to start doing the things that needed doing, which he thought should be obvious, and then immediately got the plane back into the air. Senna would have the coffee ready, and he was craving a hot, strong mug. He'd spent a sleepless night trying to forget all his problems, and in the end he'd wished he'd flown back to the lake house, just so he could worry in his own bed. Not that Senna would have appreciated his company. She'd been glad to get rid of him, no doubt, and had enjoyed a nice peaceful evening at the lake house, though he'd noticed when he got the milk out of the refrigerator that she hadn't eaten the steak and asparagus.

An hour later, Senna was pouring him a mug of coffee while Charlie loaded gear into the plane. He glanced into the living room. The admiral's desk was open and a considerable stack of envelopes was piled dead center. “Doing some paperwork?”

“Paying bills, some of which are way overdue.”

Jack avoided her accusing stare. “It seemed like everything came in over-budget….”

“That's usually how it is with new construction. I paid all the ones with the late notices. How does the mail
work around here? You don't exactly have a mailbox I can drop these into, and it's important that they go out as soon as possible, before we have a collection agency breathing down our necks.”

“We can post them where I gas the plane up.” He finished the last of the coffee. “I'll go feed the dogs.”

“Done,” Senna said. “Fed, watered, and cleaned.”

“Charlie…?”

She laughed. “Guess again. If he shows nearly as much ambition as a chore boy at the lodge, then you'll be doing his job, too.”

“Oh, Charlie's okay. He pulls his weight, you just have to know how to motivate him.”

“I'll just have to take your word for that. Are we ready to go?”

“Ready.”

“When do you plan to move the sled dogs to the lodge?”

“Chilkat can come with us now. I'll set the dog yard up today and ferry the rest of them in tomorrow. Should be able to do it in two trips.”

“Two trips?” Senna looked at him in disbelief. “All those big huskies in just two trips?”

“Sure. We can pack 'em in like sardines. They don't weigh much. They look big, but they're mostly just fur and fangs. Let's go, wedding planner. We're burning daylight.”

 

T
HE MARINA IN
N
ORTH
W
EST
R
IVER
carried aviation fuel, as most did in this neck of the woods. There was also a store that sold everything from chewing gum to pine tar and oakum, and they had a mail drop there, too.
Jack filled the wing tanks while Senna posted the bills. He hoped she'd take a while, because Gilbert Truvo was standing on the dock rubbing his chin and working himself up to say something bad. Unfortunately Senna arrived just in time to hear every single word.

“Look, this'll have to be the last time, Jack. I know you got a plane to fly, but I got a business to run. You haven't paid down your charges in almost two months now, and aviation fuel is damned expensive. I'm sure you understand. Business is business.”

Senna's expression never changed. She walked right up to Truvo, reached into her day pack and drew forth her wallet. “Do you take credit cards?” she asked.

Truvo shifted uncomfortably. “Yes, ma'am, we sure do.”

Truvo took the proffered credit card and shuffled off toward the store. Jack finished fueling, looking everywhere but in Senna's direction, and wondered how he was ever going to make this right. Things were already worse than bad and times were going to get even tighter before enough money came in to turn the tide…if the tide ever did turn. He'd been broke so long he'd gotten used to it, but having Senna around had immediately cast a different light on eating fish five times a week and cutting new holes in his leather belt as his waistline shrank.

Truvo returned with the itemized receipt of two months worth of charges, stamped Paid, and hesitated between handing it to Jack or Senna. Senna reached out her hand and he gave it over with an apologetic shrug directed at Jack. “Sorry, Jack, but business is business,” he repeated.

“Don't I know it.”

“I'll run you up a line of credit, like before, long as I know it'll get paid.”

“It will be, Mr. Truvo,” Senna said.

When they were both back in the cockpit strapping themselves in, Jack glanced across at her. “I'll pay back every cent,” he said.

“I'm not worried,” she replied, fiddling with her buckle. “I spoke with a friend this morning who has an acquaintance who works in the real-estate division of Sotheby's in New York. I'm going to take some digital pictures of the lodge and e-mail them back. He said there's a good chance they'll find a buyer for my half before the end of the summer.”

“Great,” Jack said without enthusiasm, feeling more like a loser by the moment. “What's this friend of yours do?”

“He sells big insurance policies to big companies.”

“Makes big bucks, too, no doubt.”

“Yes, as a matter of fact.” She turned in her seat and handed a brown paper bag to Charlie. “Candy bars and dog biscuits, just in case any of you gets a craving.”

Jack taxied the plane away from the marina, hoping she'd expound on this mysterious relationship a little further, but Senna just gazed out the window at the little harbor. “What's his name?” he finally asked, just before the plane lifted into the air.

“Tim Cromwell.”

“Tim?” Queasy, Jack thought, a guy named Tim who sold insurance policies. Well, that was probably a perfect match for someone who sold weddings to gullible couples. He shoved the throttle forward with an irra
tional surge of anger, and he was still in a surly mood when he put the plane down on the Wolf River an hour later. “Tie Ula up,” he growled to Charlie as the boy stood in the rear passenger compartment. “We don't need her running off again.” He glared at Senna. “You'll need to show Wavey how to clean the guest rooms and run the laundry equipment. I thought maybe she could get the linens on the beds, set up the bathrooms…”

“I do know a little bit about back-of-the-house operations, Jack,” Senna returned, equally testy, as she unbuckled herself from the safety harness.

“Wavey's willing, but inexperienced.”

“About
some
things, I'm sure.” Acid dripped from Senna's words. She pushed out of her seat, grabbing her day pack, and prepared to disembark.

“What's that supposed to mean?”

Senna paused. “I'm just wondering if she's going to make a suitable housekeeper,” she said.

“You think I can't hire good help?”

“I think you probably hire what suits you.”

“I hired what we needed to get this lodge up and running,” he shot back.

“What
you
needed, maybe, but I highly doubt that girl will benefit this lodge in any way, shape or form. Come on, Chilkat.” She dropped down onto the dock and climbed the ramp without a backward glance, the old dog at her side.

Jack scrambled out of the plane, tripping over Wavey's empty kitty carrier and stumbling to his knees with a curse. “I know how to hire good help!” he bellowed after her as he struggled to his feet, but she never
acknowledged him. He stood watching her stalk up the ramp, her back rigid with anger.

What the hell did she have against Wavey? She hadn't even met the girl yet. Damn, but that woman made him mad!

S
ENNA WAS FUMING AS SHE CHARGED
up the ramp. Did he think she was blind? She knew the real reason Wavey was here.

By the time she reached the lodge she was convinced that the only thing for her to do was throw this whole sorry mess of an estate into Granville's lap and return to Maine. She entered the living room and looked around, boiling with frustration that nothing had changed. Foolishly, on the flight in, she'd imagined that all the stickers would have been scraped from the windows, the glass would be sparkling, the heaps of boxes and crates would have been unpacked, the sawdust and cobwebs swept up and dusted away, the floors scrubbed and buffed. Instead, she was upset to see that everything looked exactly the same as when they'd left yesterday afternoon. Jack's two new hires had been given three whole hours to get a jump on the work, yet nothing whatsoever had been done. Not one thing.

Why was she so surprised? Wavey was nothing more than a very young sex kitten with a crush on Jack, and Gordina was a complete unknown, though it stood to reason that she was probably just as young and gorgeous as Granville's granddaughter. The two of them had no doubt been purring and slinking about while all this
work remained to be done. And where was Charlie, the chore boy?

“Wavey! Gordina?”

She got no answer. Then Jack burst into the room, out of breath from having chased her up the ramp. He skidded to a stop and looked around the untouched room the same way she had. “Looks like both of your new hires have been kidnapped,” Senna said, planting her hands on her hips.

Before Jack could respond Chilkat uttered a growl deep in his chest and lunged toward a stack of boxes in the center of the room, hitting them squarely with his shoulder and sending them toppling as a very small kitten leapt from the midst of the chaos, let out a terrified yowl, and in one frantic bound managed to ascend the tallest pinnacle in the room, which just happened to be Jack. Senna stared wide-eyed as he reached up and deliberately pried the terrified kitten off his head, dangling it high above a transfixed Chilkat.

“Wavey!”
he bellowed at the top of his lungs as several deep scratches on his forehead began to ooze blood.

There was a sound from the direction of the kitchen, and then Wavey rushed out, her hands raised to the sides of her pretty face at the sight of her kitten squirming in Jack's grasp above Chilkat's slavering jaws. “My kitten!” she cried out.

“Where's Gordina?” Jack said, lifting the kitten higher as both Wavey and Chilkat lunged for it.

“Give me my kitten!” Wavey wailed. “You're hurting her!”

“What have the two of you accomplished while I was gone?” Jack thundered.

“We were hungry. We didn't have breakfast, so me and Gordina fixed something to eat….”

“It shouldn't take three hours to eat breakfast.”

Senna stepped between them, her fingers curling through Chilkat's collar. “Wavey, take the kitten to your cabin and then come back immediately. There's a lot of work to be done around here and little time left to do it.”

Wavey focused on Senna for the first time and blinked startled eyes. “You must be the wedding planner,” she said.

“I'm Senna McCallum, the admiral's granddaughter,” Senna snapped, sick to death of being referred to as the wedding planner. “Go on and lock that kitten up in a safe place before Chilkat has an early lunch.”

After Wavey had departed with the kitten Senna looked at Jack, who was dabbing the blood off his forehead, and shook her head with a short laugh. “I have to hand it to you, Jack. You sure know how to pick 'em.”

“If you think you can do better, be my guest,” he said, turning on his heel and departing the lodge.

By noon Charlie and Ula had predictably gone missing. Wavey was washing windows in the living room, her every movement the embodiment of graceful lethargy. Had any living human being ever moved so slowly? Jack was down on the dock, still unloading the plane, while Gordina prepared lunch for them. Senna was scraping the dreaded decals off the living-room windows with a razor blade and counting down the moments until she could escape this awful predicament and return to Maine. Chilkat had planted himself in the open doorway, apparently sleeping but not really, for every time Senna glanced at her grandfather's old dog,
he was looking right back at her with that steady, fixed gaze as if he was waiting for her to do something.

But what?

Well, she
could
scream in frustration. A long, loud horrible scream would give Chilkat something to sit up and take notice of, and it just might make Senna feel better. She could scream at Wavey to hurry up because at the rate that girl was washing windows, it would take her two weeks just to finish the living room. And then there was Gordina, a woman who could quite easily have wed Count Dracula. A fifty-four-year-old bloodless, gaunt and unsmiling woman with a close-fitting cap of straight, slate-gray hair. Definitely not another sex goddess for Jack to toy with, for which Senna was grateful, but the woman smoked, and when Senna had laid down the law about smoking inside the building, Gordina had given her a malevolent look that made Senna's skin crawl. The woman was definitely frightening, but if she could cook, all would be forgiven…except smoking inside.

Senna paused, eyes narrowing. Even with the windows and doors open in the living room, she was sure she'd just caught a whiff of cigarette smoke. She laid down the razor blade and walked quietly toward the kitchen. She peeked just to make sure, and yes, there Gordina was, standing at the work island, lit cigarette clenched between pursed lips, shredding a head of cabbage as if it had done her severe bodily harm in the past but never would again.

“Gordina.” Senna stepped into the kitchen. “I asked you not to smoke inside the building.”

Gordina paused, still clutching the big knife and the remains of the head of cabbage. Her eyes narrowed de
fiantly. Even as Senna stared in anger, a long section of ash fell from the end of her cigarette and landed in the mound of shredded cabbage. Senna spun around and stalked back into the living room and out the front door. She could see Jack down by the plane, going through a tool box on the dock. She was so furious she didn't recall her feet touching the ramp on her way down. “Gordina has got to go,” she snapped as she drew up in front of him. “Right now!”

Jack had straightened at the sound of her approach. He was wearing a baseball cap with some flying logo on it and he tugged the brim down over a gathering frown. “You mean, before lunch?”

“Right now,” Senna repeated. “I told her not to smoke inside and she's smoking in the kitchen. She's not only smoking while she fixes lunch, but the ashes of her cigarette are falling into the food.”

“Queasy.”

“
Fire her.
I'd have done it myself but she was holding a very big knife. Fire her, and fly her back to Goose Bay.
Right now.
”

Jack dropped a brass fitting back into the tool box. “Okay.” He took off his hat, whipped it against his pant leg a couple of times, pulled it back on and started up the ramp. He paused a few steps beyond her and turned around. “Are you sure about this? What if I can't find us another cook?”

Senna put her hands on her hips and glared. Jack sighed and continued on his mission while Senna returned to the living room and went back to scraping windows that faced the dock so she could have the pleasure of watching Gordina leave. Minutes passed, and there was still no sign of them descending to the plane. Half
an hour later Jack walked into the living room. “Wavey, better go check on your kitten,” he said to the girl, who was gazing out the window with a rag in her hand as she daydreamed her way slowly through the afternoon.

Senna waited until Wavey had disappeared before challenging Jack. “Well? What's the hold up?”

Jack shoved his hands into his jeans pockets and drew a deep breath, blowing it out with a grimace of pain. “The thing is, yesterday I begged Gordina to quit her job and come to work for us because we needed her desperately. She says her boss won't take her back, and she has this sister who went bonkers when her husband ran out on her, and her sister lives in this special home now because she needs care and is on several medications, all of which costs Gordina a lot of money, and—”

“Did you fire her?” Senna interrupted.

He straightened and squared his shoulders. “She promised she wouldn't smoke inside again.”

“Jack!”

“She promised.” He shrugged helplessly. “Besides, where the hell are we going to find another cook at this late stage of the game?”

 

S
ENNA OPENED HER EYES
with a moan and lay motionless on the bed, hoping she was wrong, hoping the murky gray light infusing the room didn't really signify the coming of yet another dawn. Hoping the gray mane of the Labrador morning was still hours away because she'd never been quite so sore in all her life. Any movement at all was sheer torture. Even her hair hurt. She counted on her fingers the days that she'd been here. Time had passed so swiftly that she had to count twice
to be sure. Seven. Seven days of non-stop work had just about done her in, and she had one more week to go. One more week before the lodge opened and she could head home. Seven more days 'til she could immerse herself in a big bathtub full of hot water for at least twenty-four hours.

The burning question was, would she survive them? Maybe, if she took them one moment at a time. One catastrophe, one set-back, one contingency at a time. Hope for the best and prepare for the worst….

She heard the faint howling of the sled dogs from behind the guides' cabin. Normally she would have thrilled to the sound, so like a pack of wolves, but today she closed her eyes and moaned again. If the dogs were howling, it really was morning.

A laugh came from out of nowhere and cramped her aching stomach muscles as she remembered the trip to fetch the huskies in Jack's plane. It was funny now, but it hadn't been then. To keep to his original plan of making only two trips, he'd crammed ten dogs into the passenger compartment, stuffing them in one after the other, loose. Senna had watched this loading procedure with a dubious frown. “Is it really wise, taking so many all at once?”

“They carry this many dogs all the time in smaller planes during the Iditarod,” he'd reassured her. “I've seen pictures.”

“Maybe so, but those sled dogs were probably tired after running a thousand miles,” Senna pointed out, “whereas your dogs are pretty rested up and lively.”

“These guys'll be fine. They're trained to behave, and besides, they've already sorted out their pecking order. There's no reason for them to fight, and if there's so
much as a growl I'll push the yoke over and give them a couple of seconds of weightlessness. Guaranteed, that'll settle them down. Quit worrying.” Half an hour later they were airborne with ten dogs in back, heading for the lodge. The flight went smoothly for about twenty minutes, when, without any advance warning, all hell broke loose. One moment it was just the throaty roar of the plane's engine droning steadily along, and the next it was combined with the horrific bedlam of ten big sled dogs all at each other's throats.

Senna cast one look over her shoulder and knew they were in deep trouble. All she could see were slashing fangs and flying fur. “Take the yoke!” Jack bellowed after two seconds of weightless flight only served to intensify the fight. He unbuckled his safety harness and hurled himself into the maelstrom. Senna didn't even have a chance to refuse the task of flying the plane because quite suddenly she was the pilot. Fortunately there were no tall mountains in the area because it seemed to take a very long time for Jack to beat the dogs apart, and even then half of them were still going at it when he wormed back into the pilot's seat, reached for the controls and aimed for the nearest landing place, which happened to be a little blip of a pond dead ahead, barely big enough to handle the plane.

The landing was rough, the engine cut out, and the plane drifted of its own momentum toward the shore. Jack jumped out onto the pontoon, hauling dog after dog out of plane and hurling each, one at a time, into the water. “Get out, grab those tethers, wade ashore and tie the bastards up to trees as you catch 'em!” he shouted as he grabbed another dog and tossed it overboard. “If
they start to fight again, let 'em kill each other. Don't get between them.”

Fifteen minutes later, wet, muddy and covered with blood and gore, mostly belonging to the dogs, she was helping Jack tend his lacerated hand using the plane's first aid kit. His temper was still up and he was swearing like a lumberjack, especially when Senna doused the wounds with hydrogen peroxide. “Goddammit, woman, are you trying to kill me?”

He held up his hand when she was finished and examined the bloodstained bandaging, then glared at the equally bloodied sled dogs tied far apart to spindly black spruce trees along the pond's edge. They stared back, pieces of ear missing here and there, cuts on muzzles oozing, clumps of fur hanging off in saliva-soaked tatters. Their tongues were lolling and they looked absolutely content.

“Well, you were right about those dogs,” Senna couldn't resist saying. “They're all fur and fangs.” And then she couldn't help but add, “Did any of those Iditarod pictures you saw look like this?”

After the emergency landing they'd divided the dogs into two groups, this time tethering them inside the plane and flying five at a time to the lodge. It took the remainder of the day to transport the rest of the team from the lake house, but there were no more fights. Jack's hand had swelled to twice its normal size by the end of the day but for the past few days he'd functioned at full capacity, stubbornly refusing to go to the hospital in Goose Bay for X-rays and antibiotics, dulling the pain with handfuls of aspirin.