Too Close To Call

“Bob’s picking up his ex-wife,” said Wally. “He might prefer the storm to holing up with her in Sitka overnight.”

Jordan grinned. “Pilot’s discretion.” He took a step back.

“Roger,” said Wally, with a snappy salute.

The front door opened, and Wally swiveled back to the counter as a man stepped into the reception area. Jordan assumed it was Cyd’s four o’clock passenger.

In that European suit and shiny loafers, the man was overdressed for a plane ride to Arctic Luck. In fact, he was overdressed for anything north of the sixtieth parallel.

The man looked up, and Jordan did a double take. There was something startlingly familiar about him. Had they met before? The man’s eyes widened, and he drew back. For a moment, Jordan wondered if he’d somehow offended him.

While Wally talked to the customer, Jordan turned to the stacks of papers on his desk, making a quick search for a passenger list to check the name. Part of delivering good customer service was remembering your customers’ needs and treating them as though they were important to the business. It was all right there in the Alaska Tourism Association brochure guidelines.

Jordan’s airline currently held first place in this year’s Alaska Tourism customer satisfaction surveys. If he could hang on to the lead for the rest of the season, it would mean free advertising in all of the government brochures next summer. That kind of exposure was sure to increase his business—a necessity if he wanted to add a commuter jet to his fleet.

Which he did.

As soon as possible.

While he located the manifest for the Arctic Luck trip, he heard Cyd land the Cessna. Right on time, but she’d have to be quick with the turnaround if she wanted to beat the snow.

Jordan squinted at the passenger name, hoping it would trigger a memory.

Jeffrey Bradshaw.

The name didn’t mean anything to him. He glanced back through the window, racking his brain. He knew he’d seen the man before.

“JEFFREY BRADSHAW is due back in L.A. on Monday.” Rachel Bowen, a set designer at Argonaut Studios stopped beside the treadmill where Ashley Baines was jogging to the beat of vintage Springsteen.

“What?” Ashley pulled off the headphones, snapping them around her neck.

“Jeffrey. Here. Monday,” said Rachel.

Ashley hit the button on the treadmill control and rocked to an abrupt stop, turning to stare at her friend and co-worker. She drew a deep breath, winded from her workout. “So, that’s it, then.” She wiped a hand across her hair, down over her tight braid. “It’s him against me?”

Rachel nodded. “Sure looks that way.”

Ashley felt her stomach clench. Jeffrey showing up to challenge her for the promotion to vice president wasn’t exactly a surprise, but she had held out a slim hope he’d stay away and leave the field clear.

A fellow acquisitions director at Argonaut, Jeffrey was definitely her most serious competition. He was smart, experienced and connected. He was also crafty, with a ruthless edge that she wouldn’t want to test.

Perspiration tickled her forehead and her temples, and her damp spandex top stuck to the skin between her shoulder blades. She picked up a white towel that she’d hung over the handle of the treadmill and scrubbed it across her forehead, flipping her braid out of the way to dry her neck.

“Got any more scuttlebutt on him?” she asked.

Rachel was a close friend, and a gifted set designer at Argonaut. She was friendly and outgoing, and had an amazing ability to keep her finger on the pulse of office politics.

“Just that he’s checking out locations in Alaska,” said Rachel.

“Alaska?” Ashley blinked in confusion.

“You know. Snow, ice, you have to cut through Canada to get there.”

“His big, innovative idea is Alaska?”

The chairman of the board had let it be known that an innovative new hit series was number one on his wish list right now. Whoever came up with the right series had a huge leg up on the promotion.

Jeffrey had spent the last year on special assignment in New York. What could have given him a sudden interest in Alaska?

“He must be pitching a Northern Exposure thing,” said Rachel.

“A comedy?” Ashley tossed the towel into a nearby bin. Comedies were always risky, but when they hit, they hit big.

“Or an outdoor adventure,” said Rachel.

“Adventure’s on the decline. It’s medical, cop or comedy this year.”

An Alaskan cop? An Alaskan hospital? Neither of those rang true to Ashley. It had to be a comedy.

Shoot. The last thing she needed was for Jeffrey to deliver something more original than her edgy, California-based detective series.

“Think I should add a comedic element?” she asked Rachel, raising her thumb and capturing the nail between her teeth. Maybe straight drama wasn’t the way to go.

“Comedy is big right now,” said Rachel.

Of course it was. Comedies were getting all the attention this year, all the awards, all the ratings. How could she have been so foolish?

Ashley headed for the change rooms. “I should have thought of this earlier.”

“It’s pretty late in the game to switch,” said Rachel.

“I know. It’ll mean redoing the storyboard and the video clips.”

“And rewriting all the scripts.”

Ashley paused with her hand on the change-room door. “It’ll mean redoing the entire presentation. From scratch.” A near impossibility, since this was Saturday, and the pitch meeting with the chairman of the board was scheduled for Monday.

Rachel tucked her dark hair behind her ears. “I suppose you could take a chance to submit it as is.”

Ashley’s hardboiled detective drama suddenly seemed pale and flat, and somehow safe, even if it did have beaches, plenty of buff bods and guaranteed action sequences in every episode.

If Jeffrey was going for broke with a comedy/drama, set in Alaska of all places, she was going to have to make her California location feel fresher and more interesting.

“Think he’s going for broke?” asked Rachel, skipping to keep up with Ashley as she headed down the tiled hallway, past the racket courts.

“Alaska’s a pretty bold move for a setting,” said Ashley. The more she thought about it, the more she realized Jeffrey was taking a risk, pulling out all the stops.

And, why wouldn’t he? It was the promotion of the decade.