My attention veers toward the two faces surrounded by the gilded frame.
Toby shakes his head. “Let’s just say she sometimes bites off more than she can chew, not that she’d ever admit to it.”
“I guess I’m her latest project?”
“Guess so.” He pauses a beat. “She’s definitely bitten off too much there.”
“Funny guy!” I grab a coaster and throw it at him.
He smoothly catches it. “Our family has been here for over a hundred years, and she thinks it’s up to her to make it feel like a real community. It’s why she’s the chairman of the town council and has her hands in almost every committee there is to sign up for. It’s why we have nights like these, to draw people out. It’s hard, when the winters are long and half the population is seasonal, and the residents have to leave town to shop and work. Anyway, she doesn’t think you’re an idiot, Calla. She was impressed with how hard you worked out there. Said you never complained once.”
“Not out loud.” Again, I’m shocked by my own interpretation of Muriel’s frowns and comments compared to what her son is telling me. “It’s important to her to see that garden go on, isn’t it?”
He nods. “She’s loyal to a fault, and Colette was a good friend to her. One of the few people willing to call her on her bullshit.” His watches his parents for a moment. “Plus, she’s convinced you and Jonah are going to starve to death before the winter’s through.”
I laugh. “Because there aren’t any grocery stores around here?”
“Exactly.” He chuckles. “She’s got her way of doing things, and she won’t back down until she’s convinced you that her way is right, but …” He shrugs. “Her heart’s in the right place.”
“I know it is.” Which is probably why I’m tolerating her more than I thought I’d be capable. I observe Muriel for a moment, her broad smile infectious as she ladles from the pot marked #2 and hands a paper cup sample to a woman, before her gaze seeks the next recipient. I’ll bet she knows every name and address in here and, if she doesn’t, she’ll make sure to by the end of the night. “You know she’s going to be a nightmare for any girl you bring home, right?”
“Why do you think I’m single?” His cheeks flush as he collects an empty draft glass from a man who approached the bar and refills it from a tap. I guess fresh glasses for each drink are a luxury around here.
“You know who else is single?” I wait for his eyes to flicker to me. “Marie, the veterinarian.”
Toby grins, his face turning a deeper red. “She seemed nice.”
“And smart, and pretty …” And maybe if she starts dating someone else, she’ll stop playing the dear, considerate friend to Jonah while waiting for our relationship to run its course. That’s what I’ve convinced myself her angle is. I mean, that’s what I would do, if I were in love with a good friend and didn’t think the woman he was with was right for him.
As much as Jonah might value their relationship, after last week’s ordeal, I’ll never entirely trust her around him, whether her intentions toward me are insidious or not.
Thankfully, I trust him.
Jonah’s boisterous laugh carries over the crowd. I know him well enough to know he can’t fake that. Not that he can fake any laugh. The guy has the worst poker face when he doesn’t like someone.
It means he’s enjoying himself with his new acquaintances.
“So, do you think Jonah’ll fly for Jack?” Toby asks, pouring a round of pints for a guy who could be Teddy’s doppelganger—another rotund, Santa-bearded man.
“I’m not sure yet. What’s this Big Game Alaska thing? Hunting, right?”
“Yeah. People pay serious cash to use Jack. I’m talking twenty, thirty grand for a fly-in, a full camp, and a guide.”
A low whistle escapes my lips. “For how many people?”
He gives me a look. “That’s per person.”
“Holy shit.” I automatically do the Canadian currency configuration in my head. I wonder how long it’ll be before I stop doing that math.
“Yeah. And he just lost one of his pilots to an airline down south somewhere. Mom mentioned Jonah to him. The guy’s got a good reputation because Jack already knew about him.”
My pride swells, hearing that.
“So …” Toby leans forward again to rest his elbows on the counter. “If Jonah can get in with Jack, that’s some good, solid cash coming in every September, before the season starts to die down.”
“I don’t know if he wants to do it.” Why wouldn’t he, though? Having work that pays well every September is exactly what Jonah is interested in.
“No offense, but he’d be crazy not to for what Jack pays. But I get it … Some people aren’t keen on being up in McGrath for that long.”
“McGrath?” I don’t recall where that is on the map.
“Yeah. Of course, they’d put him up at the lodge there. It’s not the greatest, but it works.”
“A lodge. So, he’d be away for the month.” As in, I’d be alone at home for an entire month. The conversation I overheard between Jonah and Marie is starting to make sense.
Jonah doesn’t think he can take it because of the promise he made to me. But he told Marie about it, and if he’s talking about it with her, then he must be interested, despite what he said to me.
Another loud burst of laughter comes from Jonah, along with the other men at the table. I don’t think I’ve heard him laugh like that since … Well, since he was joking around with my father.
Guilt pricks me as Marie’s words come to mind. Are you happy turning down jobs because you’re afraid to leave your girlfriend alone?
How long will she hold you to that?
I’m holding Jonah back from doing something he wants to do, and for what? Because I—an almost twenty-seven-year-old woman—don’t want to be home alone. And of course he’ll keep his word, because that’s who Jonah is. But are my reasons justified?
I’ve noticed that on the days Jonah’s grounded because of the weather, he’s irritable and restless, scowling at the clouds as if trying to scare them away. He hates being held back from doing things. Agnes says he’s always been like that—like a high-strung toddler who needs his daily dose of outdoor exercise to regulate his mood. I laughed when she made that comparison, but I’m realizing she’s not wrong.
How long before he begins resenting me?
“Ah, shit …” Toby bows his head, his hand working a cloth over the counter.
“What’s wrong?”
His gray eyes dart to the door and I see rare annoyance on his face. “Don’t look now, but the woman who walked in—I said don’t look!”
“Sorry! It’s a natural reaction.” I wince sheepishly. “The one in the leopard-print crop top?”
“Yeah. If you mean the short shirt.” He leans closer. “That’s Jessie Winslow. Her husband works on the north slope.”
“What’s that? Like a ski slope?”
“Nah. It’s what we call the northern tip of Alaska. A lot of people from around here go up there to work on the oil rigs. Anyway, he’s gone for, like, two weeks at a time, and every time he’s on shift, she goes on a bender. Ends up coming in here and getting smashed, and then my father makes me drive her home. She gropes me every time!”