Alaska Skies: Brides for Brothers / The Marriage Risk

Abbey hoped her son was right.

Two (#u632d220d-9b46-537b-b657-dc2bf1d9206e)

Abbey took several calming breaths before walking up to the hotel desk and giving her name.

“Mr. O’Halloran’s taking interviews in the Snoqualmie Room on the second floor,” the clerk told her.

Abbey’s fingers tightened around her résumé as she headed for the escalator. Her heart pounded heavily, feeling like a lead weight in her chest.

Her decision to apply for this position had understandably received mixed reactions. Both Scott and Susan were excited about the prospect of a new life in Hard Luck, but Abbey’s parents were hesitant.

Marie Murray would miss spoiling her grandchildren. Abbey’s father, Wayne, was convinced she didn’t know what she’d be getting into moving to the frozen north. But he seemed to forget that she made her living in a library. Soon after placing the initial call, Abbey had checked out a number of excellent books about life in Alaska. Her research had told her everything she wanted to know—and more.

Nevertheless, she’d already decided to accept the job if it was offered. No matter how cold the winters were, living in Hard Luck would be better than having to accept money from her parents.

Abbey found the Snoqualmie Room easily enough and glanced inside. A lean, rawboned man in his early thirties sat at a table reading intently. The hotel staff must have thought applicants would arrive thirsty, because they’d supplied a pitcher of ice water and at least two dozen glasses.

“Hello,” she said with a polite smile. “I’m Abbey Sutherland.”

“Abbey.” The man stood abruptly as if she’d caught him unawares. “I’m Christian O’Halloran. We spoke on the phone.” He motioned to the seat on the other side of the table. “Make yourself comfortable.”

She sat and handed him her résumé.

He barely looked at it before setting it aside. “Thank you. I’ll read this later.”

Abbey nervously folded her hands in her lap and waited.

“You’re applying for the position of librarian, right?”

“Yes. I’m working toward my degree in library science.”

“In other words, you’re not a full librarian.”

“That’s correct. In Washington state, a librarian is required to have a master’s degree in library science. For the last two years I’ve worked as an assistant librarian for King County.” She paused. Christian O’Halloran was difficult to read. “I answer reference questions, do quick information retrieval and customer service, and of course I have computer skills.” She hesitated, wondering if she should continue.

“That sounds perfect. Hard Luck doesn’t exactly have a library at the moment. We do have a building of sorts....”

“Books?”

“Oh, yes, hundreds of those. At least a thousand. They were a gift to the town, and we need someone who’s capable of handling every aspect of organizing a library.”

“I’d be fully capable of that.” She listed a number of responsibilities she’d handled in her job with the King County library system. Somehow, though, Abbey couldn’t shake the feeling that Christian O’Halloran wasn’t really interested in hearing about her qualifications.

He mentioned the pay, and although it wasn’t as much as she was earning with King County, she wouldn’t need to worry about rent.

A short silence followed, almost as if he wasn’t sure what else to ask.

“Could you tell me a little about the library building?” she ventured.

He nodded. “Actually it was a home at one time—my grandfather’s original homestead, in fact—but I don’t think you’d have much of a problem turning it into a library, would you?”

“Probably not.”

Already, Abbey’s mind was at work, dividing up the house. One of the bedrooms could be used for fiction, another for nonfiction. The dining room would be perfect for a reading room, or it could be set up as an area for children.

“You understand that life in Hard Luck isn’t going to be anything like Seattle,” Christian commented, breaking into her thoughts.

Her father had said that very thing the day before. “I realize that.” She paused for a moment. “Could I ask you about the house and the land you’re offering?”

“Of course.”

“Well, uh, could you tell me about the house?”

She waited.

“It’s more of a cabin, and I’d describe it as...rustic.” He seemed to stumble on the word. “It definitely has a...rural feel. Don’t get me wrong, it’s comfortable, but it’s different from what you’re used to.”

“I’m sure it is. Tell me about Hard Luck.”

The man across from her relaxed. “It’s probably the most beautiful place on earth. You might think I’m prejudiced and I can’t very well deny it. I guess you’ll have to form your own opinion.

“In summer there’s sunlight nearly twenty-four hours a day. That’s when the wildflowers bloom. I swear every color under the sun bursts to life almost overnight. The forests and tundra turn scarlet and gold and burnt orange.”

“It sounds lovely.” And it did. “What about the winters?”

“Oh, yes. Well, again, it’s beautiful, but the beauty is kind of...stark. Pristine’s a good word. I don’t think anyone’s really lived until they’ve seen our light show.”

“The aurora borealis.”

Christian smiled approvingly. “I’m not going to lie to you,” he continued. “It gets mighty cold. In winter it isn’t uncommon for the temperature to drop to forty or fifty below.”

“My goodness.” Although Abbey knew this, hearing him say it reinforced the reality.

“On those days, almost everything closes down. We don’t generally fly when it’s that cold. It’s too hard on the planes, and even harder on the pilots.”

Abbey nodded; he’d told her about Midnight Sons, the O’Halloran brothers’ air charter service, during their phone conversation.

“What about everything else?” she asked. “Like the school. Does it close down, too?” He’d also explained in their previous conversation that Hard Luck had a school that went from kindergarten to twelfth grade.

“Life in town comes to a standstill, and we all sort of snuggle together. There’s nothing to do in weather that cold but wait it out. Most days, we manage to keep the school open, though.” He shrugged. “We rely on one another in Hard Luck. We have to.”

“What about food?”

“We’ve got a grocery store. It’s not a supermarket, mind you, but it carries the essentials. Everyone in town stocks up on supplies once a year. But if you run out of anything, there’s always the grocery. If Pete Livengood—he’s the guy who owns it—if he doesn’t have what you need, one of the pilots can pick it up for you. Midnight Sons makes daily flights into Fairbanks, so it isn’t like you’re stuck there.”

“What about driving to Fairbanks? When I looked up Hard Luck, I couldn’t make out any roads. There is one, isn’t there?”

“Sure there is—in a manner of speaking,” Christian said proudly. “We got ourselves a haul road a few years back.”