Match Made In Paradise

by Barbara Dunlop

  “He doesn’t look harmless.”

  “You think?”

  “He looks hard and dangerous. Especially when you’re on a deserted lonely road, and he’s a stranger, and he pulls up to a dilapidated shack without an explanation.” Mia hesitated. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to insult your house again.”

  “I’m the one who’s sorry. I shouldn’t be laughing at you. You came here to heal.”

  “Not to heal.” That wasn’t what this was all about.

  Raven turned to look questioningly at Mia.

  “I came here to hide.”

  * * *

  * * *

  The West Slope Aviation office often went from frantic in the morning, when most loads were readied and planes got off the ground, to a quiet lull during the day, when everyone was flying. Then it got busier in the evening, when most pilots and crew came back again and were looking to debrief on the day and shoot the breeze.

  As a freight operation, it was a casual place built for function, not beauty. The few passengers who boarded or offloaded in Paradise were the workers and scientists who knew the drill, or fishing enthusiasts headed for a river camp during the salmon run. The high-end tourists destined for places like Wildflower Lake were shuttled straight from Fairbanks in plush, luxuriously appointed Barons or 310s.

  Nice planes, but Silas couldn’t say he envied those pilots dealing with high-maintenance walk-on cargo. Case in point, Mia Westberg.

  Silas and Brodie had parked themselves at one of three mismatched tables tucked in the room behind the front office to have a beer at the end of the day.

  “What did you think of the cousin?” Brodie asked, opening the topic that was on a lot of guys’ minds after a few of them got a look at Mia down at the warehouse and spread the word.

  Silas was honest. “Big-city, entitled, the antithesis of Raven. Raven’s got her hands full, that’s for sure.”

  Brodie took a swig of his beer, Amber Ice from a local Alaskan brewery. “This ought to be interesting.”

  “How long’s she planning to stay?” Silas pushed at the corner of the foil label with his thumb.

  Brodie shrugged. “Raven only knew she was arriving today.”

  “She won’t last long.” Silas would put a fair bit of money on that. “We stopped at Raven’s to drop her bags. I got the impression Paradise isn’t what she expected.”

  “I told Raven a dozen times to move into staff housing.” Brodie had clearly missed the broader point.

  “There’s nothing wrong with Raven’s cabin,” Silas said.

  “The roof leaks,” Brodie pointed out. “And her solution is a bucket on the floor.”

  “We can fix that. What I mean is Mia is obviously used to much finer things than what we have to offer here in Paradise.”

  “Word is she’s a famous model,” Brodie said. “A couple of the guys were burning up the internet connection checking her out.”

  “Well, I’ve never heard of her.”

  Brodie chuckled. “Pay a lot of attention to Fashion Week, do you?”

  Silas lifted his beer bottle in a silent touché. “Must have missed last season.”

  Brodie rocked back and grinned. “I hope Raven doesn’t regret inviting her.”

  “I’m willing to bet Mia invited herself. She seems like the type.”

  The front door squeaked open and Cobra appeared. “I heard you flew in a supermodel,” he said as he grabbed himself a beer from the battered old fridge that was older than Silas.

  “Is that what she calls herself?” Silas asked.

  Cobra pulled up a wooden chair and plunked himself down. He’d stripped off his gray coveralls and now wore jeans and a T-shirt. “That’s what Xavier calls her. And he said the drillers were drooling all the way into camp.”

  Silas hadn’t seen that. If it was true, he didn’t like it, no matter what his impression of Mia. “I hope she froze them into blocks of ice.”

  Both Brodie and Cobra gave him a quizzical look.

  “Because she’s a paying . . .” Silas realized he had that wrong. “She’s a WSA passenger. She deserves peace while she flies with us. No matter how entitled she acts.”

  “A guy can look,” Cobra said.

  “Blocks of ice?” Brodie asked with a lift of his brow.

  “She’s got these glacier-blue eyes,” Silas said. “She tried it on me when I said her luggage was overweight.”

  Cobra laughed.

  “Who won?” Brodie asked.

  “Please,” Silas said. Like he was going to let some spoiled city girl compromise the weight and balance of his aircraft.

  Cobra twisted the cap off his bottle. “Xavier said she was smokin’.”

  Both men looked to Silas for confirmation.

  “Depends on your taste, I suppose.” Physical beauty wasn’t his problem with Mia.

  “Tall, blond and gorgeous is pretty much everyone’s type,” Cobra said.

  “She’s got it in the looks department,” Silas agreed.

  “You didn’t like her?” Brodie asked, dropping his joking tone.

  “I don’t know her.” Silas remembered her cutting remark that he thought he knew her character. In retrospect, it was a reasonable point. He might know her type, but he didn’t know her.

  “First impression?” Cobra asked.

  “Never used an outhouse.”

  “I’d call that a plus,” Cobra said.

  “I wonder how Raven’s holding up,” Brodie mused into his beer. “She’s such a loner.”

  “You think?” Cobra asked.

  Silas wondered the same thing as Cobra. Raven was perfectly friendly to the guys, not at all standoffish. She’d known a lot of them for years and could hold her own in any conversation.

  “She likes her space,” Brodie said as if he knew.

  “She told you that?” Silas asked.

  Brodie shrugged. “She lives halfway out in the bush. She won’t move into staff housing even though her roof leaks. She burns ten cords of wood a year keeping that place warm. You’d think she’d prefer oil heat.”

  “I suppose,” Cobra said, obviously accepting Brodie’s logic.

  “She might not want to live with twenty pilots and all the rampies,” Silas ventured.

  Staff housing was fine. The beds were comfortable, and the food was good. But it was close quarters, and in addition to the pilots—only one of whom was a woman—the ground crew was 90 percent men.

  “Maybe,” Brodie agreed. “But would you want Mia the big-city high-maintenance cousin living with you?”

  Cobra raised his hand. “I’m going with a yes on that.”

  * * *

  * * *

  Raven’s screened-in sunporch made a whole lot of sense to Mia as the evening bugs arrived. They were giant-sized: wasps, mosquitoes, three species of fly and other spindly black buzzing things that she couldn’t identify.

  Raven had grilled burgers on the sunporch, slathered a fresh-looking white bun with mustard, ketchup and mayo, then added a rather tragic-looking tomato and some wilted lettuce to create their dinner. She squirted them each a glass of merlot from a cardboard box, then they’d brought it all back out to the porch, where they settled into deep Adirondack chairs covered in faded plastic cushions.

  The two chairs were angled toward each other but also facing a view of the forest at the side of the house. There was nothing but trees and blue sky in their view. And the only sounds were the insects and the faint rustle of the wind blowing through the poplar leaves.

  Mia guessed it had been years since she’d eaten anything on white bread. And it was the first time she’d tried wine from a box. But she was starving, and Raven had worked hard in the kitchen, so she wasn’t about to complain.

  “No phone service at all?” she asked as she set her wineglass down on a smal
l wood-slated side table. It wiggled a little but then settled with three of its legs touching the warped floor.

  “If you climb up to the cache, you can usually get a bar. It’s spotty, but if you’re in a pinch . . .”

  Mia found it almost impossible to believe a person could live without cell service or wireless. “And if somebody wants to get hold of you?”

  “They come over. It’s only a few miles into town, and I can use the Galina wireless when I’m at work. Or the Bear and Bar will sell you a package. It’s slow and expensive, but it works.”

  “No streaming services, I guess.”

  Raven shook her head. “I’ve got a basic satellite dish and a DVD player.”

  “I’m off the grid,” Mia said in amazement as she took a bite of the burger.

  “You did say you wanted to hide out. They sure won’t find you here.”

  The bun was fresh and delicious. The charred meat was crisp and flavorful. Mia barely even noticed that the vegetables were lacking. “This is delicious.”

  Raven smiled. “I’m glad you like it.”

  “What’s your secret?”

  Raven shrugged. “No secret. Burgers, heat, buns.”

  “I’ve never tasted a bun like this.” The texture was dense and soft at the same time, with an interesting smoky sweetness.

  “It’s sourdough from the Bear and Bar, made with fireweed honey instead of sugar.”

  “Wow,” Mia said and took another bite. “This is dangerously good.”

  “You’re probably starving,” Raven said, taking a sip of her wine. “WSA isn’t known for its stellar in-flight service.”

  Mia smiled at that. “They didn’t even have a bathroom.” She remembered the hard green seats and the gritty floor. It was a far, far cry from her first-class leg out of Los Angeles.

  Raven grinned along with her. “You learn to go before you get into a small plane around here, that’s for sure.”

  “I almost didn’t.” Mia recalled Silas’s expression when she’d had to bail out for the restroom before takeoff. She took a sip of wine to forget and discovered the merlot wasn’t nearly as bad as she’d feared.

  “How long will you need to stick around?” Raven asked.

  Mia was hit with a sinking feeling. “Is having me here a problem?”

  “No, no. That’s not what I meant at all.” Raven gestured around. “I was thinking this must be quite the downgrade from your mansion.”

  “That doesn’t mean I don’t appreciate it.” Mia hoped she hadn’t done anything to give away her dismay at some of the amenities.

  “It can’t be much fun for you,” Raven said.

  Mia watched her cousin’s expression, trying to figure out if she was welcome or not. “It’s better than the threats.”

  “Threats?”

  “You know, the trolls on social media, and the people at the end of my driveway accusing me of dancing on Alastair’s grave, of stealing his company, of murdering him. Some of them want revenge.” Mia took a larger swig of her wine.

  Raven looked genuinely shocked.

  “You’re really not on social media, are you?” Mia asked.

  Raven shook her head.

  It hadn’t occurred to Mia that Raven wouldn’t know the broad strokes of her situation. She’d been bombarded with it so steadily herself, it felt as though everyone in the world had sided with Henry and Hannah and developed a morbid interest in waiting on Mia’s eventual comeuppance.

  “Alastair’s children have taken me to court over the will. It’s their mother pulling the strings. I’m sure of it. She was such a witch to Alastair during the divorce.”

  “I didn’t remember Alastair had kids.”

  Mia knew she’d never mentioned them. “They’re twenty-five now; twins, Henry and Hannah. They’ve lived with their mother since they were seven, and she systematically turned them against him.”

  “So, they’re . . . our age?”

  “You can imagine how well that went over. Everyone decided I married him for his money. That’s the furthest thing from the truth.” It was important that Raven believe her.

  “I never thought you did. I mean, why would you? You were already a successful model. And who needs that much money anyway?”

  Money was obviously not important to Raven. That was both admirable and refreshing.

  “His kids want it now,” Mia said. “And they’re going to fight hard.”

  “All of it? Can’t you just split it up?”

  “They’re after the company. He left Lafayette Fashion to me so I could continue the legacy, run it just like he has all these years. But people don’t know that part, or they don’t want to know that part.” Mia polished off her wine.

  “Don’t know what part?” Raven finished her own glass and reached out for Mia’s empty.

  “How much I helped him run it over the years. It’s what we did. We collaborated. We talked through everything. I wasn’t just a face of the company, I was behind the strategy too.”

  When Raven got to her feet, Mia followed her into the kitchen.

  “Virtually every night,” Mia continued, “we’d have dinner, wine or a cocktail; review the day; talk about upcoming lines and shows, fabrics, marketing campaigns. I had input on everything.”

  Raven pressed the spigot on the wine box and refilled Mia’s glass.

  Mia pictured Alastair’s battery cork remover, the expensive bottles he so lovingly pulled out of the big wine cellar then told short stories about their vintage and his expectations. Even when his heart condition meant he couldn’t drink wine, he’d still open a bottle for Mia, saying he loved watching her enjoy it.

  She’d never given a thought to how much of the bottle got wasted. But she gave it a thought now, wondering if anyone on the housekeeping or cooking staff had thought to take it home or share it among themselves. She hoped they had.

  She accepted the glass from Raven, taking a sip and banishing her memories. This wine was perfectly acceptable. She didn’t need to be a princess every minute of every day.

  “So who are you hiding from? Shouldn’t you be running the company?”

  “The twins got an injunction against me. The vice presidents are running it until the estate is settled.”

  Raven sat down. “Then shouldn’t you be in court fighting them?”

  Mia returned to her own unexpectedly comfortable chair. “Marnie, my lawyer—she’s also a good friend, and she’s beyond awesome—is appealing the injunction. But I had to get away. I was . . .” Mia hesitated, embarrassed to admit it, especially after the Silas incident today. “Scared.”

  Raven shifted in her chair, sitting up straighter. “It was that bad?”

  “Most of it was just trash talk . . . gold-digger, evil stepmother, blah, blah, blah. But some of the threats had the police worried.”

  “The police were involved?”

  “Just the local ones, not the FBI or anything.”

  The sun’s slanted rays were warm against her, a wildflower-scented breeze wafted in and some birds chirped outside in the trees. Mia suddenly felt safe, and she realized she hadn’t felt this way in a very, very long time.

  “I got scared,” she repeated, relieved to be able to be honest. “A couple of the trolls threatened to kill me; one wanted to strangle me with my own evening gown. Oddly specific, I thought. Another threatened to assault me before throwing me off the penthouse balcony. We don’t even live in a penthouse.”

  “That’s horrible.” Raven’s face had gone pale.

  Mia didn’t disagree. She took another sip of her wine. “It got so I had to drive through people holding signs and cameras and all screaming at me and banging on the car windows whenever I wanted to leave the property.”

  “I’m glad you came,” Raven said.

  “I’m glad you let me.”


  “Of course I let you.” Raven gestured around them once again. “I know it’s not much, but I have twelve-gauge and a thirty-thirty in the closet, and you’re welcome to stay just as long as you like.”

  Chapter Four

  Raven had offered Mia a choice for the next morning: get up early to drop her off at work, or sleep in and stay at the cabin without a vehicle. When Mia learned just how early “early” was, she opted to stay stranded, at least for the first day. She and Alastair had never been early risers. There were too many evening engagements in their lives, too many lengthy business dinners and too many late-night discussions on the state of the industry.

  Mia was a brunch rather than a breakfast person: a tropical fruit salad, some grainy bread, maybe a little yogurt or a smoothie. She usually hit the gym in the morning, either the Blue Star Club on Abby Drive or just down in the basement to work out on the elliptical and the rowing machines. Nothing fancy, just a bit of cardio and toning. Her shower, hair and makeup didn’t take too long, and then she was ready for whatever meetings Dara-Leigh, her personal assistant, had put on the schedule.

  Today was much different. The options in Raven’s kitchen included white bread and strawberry jam, and no yogurt in sight, but Mia did find a little block of aged cheddar cheese. She wasn’t ready to brave Raven’s shower—an odd contraption that needed two kettles of hot water and the use of a battery-powered suction hose to draw the warm water out of a bucket and through the nozzle to rain down in the little tin shower stall. Mia decided to save that excitement until later in the day.

  At least the bed had been comfortable if a bit small. Raven’s open loft above the living room had two twin beds placed at opposite ends. It reminded Mia of summer camp—not that she’d ever been to a summer camp. But she’d seen them in the movies, and they looked a lot like Raven’s loft.

  After breakfast, Mia combed out her hair, did a quick makeup job then changed into a pair of mottled peach and turquoise workout pants topped with a peach tank top. Raven had said she could sometimes get a bar on her cell phone from the cache in the yard. Mia didn’t know where the cache would be, so she wandered around the wooded yard for half an hour trying to get a signal.