“No.” I headed to the register and started opening cabinets under the counter. “He started mansplaining to me about why I needed to get a new car.”
“You mean the black convertible sports car?” Sam crossed her leg, interlacing her fingers in her lap. “I can’t say I disagree with him. It’s not exactly appropriate for Denali.”
“It’s about as appropriate as those boots you’re wearing.” I found a black marker in the register and a paper menu. “The car would’ve been great in Atlanta. I didn’t plan on moving here this soon.” On the back of the menu, I wrote: Help Wanted.
Sam’s eyes dropped to the tile. “We’re so not ready for this life.”
“We’ll figure it out,” I said. “Starting with hiring someone who can bake a decent sourdough.”
I shoved the sign in between the window panes near the front door.
“Willa?” Sam stood up, smoothing down the hem of her fitted sweater.
I glanced over my shoulder, sensing her change in tone. “Yeah?”
“Should we, like, hug or something?” Her charcoal-lined blue eyes looked so lost for a moment.
It took every drop of self control I had not to wrap her up in my arms, just like I’d done when we were kids.
The difference was she wasn’t a kid anymore, and I refused to let her act like one.
Our enemies wouldn’t coddle her. She had to toughen up or she’d end up dead.
“Maybe later.” I slammed my fist down on the register. The cash drawer slid open and I pulled out a few twenties. “I’m going out for pizza. You coming?”
6
Willa and I cut through the outdoor area of Moose Creek Pizza, weaving through the fire pits, Adirondack chairs, and painted picnic tables. A colorful mural of the Alaskan range at sunset sprawled across the wooden fence.
Twelve years ago, there was nothing but nature surrounding the restaurant. Now, it was flanked on both sides by a sprawling resort complete with rock walking paths, hanging fairy lights, and outdoor heaters.
I noticed a sign for a day spa and salon inside the resort, and I made a mental note. Maybe I wouldn’t have to drive all the way to Fairbanks for my highlights.
My sister and I grabbed a couple of seats at the bar. I peeled off my jacket, squinting at the list of beers on the chalkboard above the shelves of hard liquor.
Willa did a 360-degree spin on her stool, scoping out the place. “They’ve classed up the joint.”
Since it was late afternoon on a Tuesday, the restaurant was basically empty. The only other people in the place were an elderly couple laughing in a corner booth and a college-age kid typing away on a laptop.
The bartender came over and placed two cocktail napkins in front of us. Something about her seemed familiar, but I couldn’t place her. She was a slender, dark-haired woman wearing a tan visor with the resort logo embroidered on the front.
“PBR for me,” Willa said.
“Same,” I said, because I couldn’t deal with making any more decisions today.
“IDs please?” The bartender held out her hand. Her nails were a beautiful shimmery blue color that changed in the light.
Willa slid a shiny plastic card out of her jeans pocket and dropped it on the counter. I dug through my handbag and found my wallet inside. I unzipped it, holding the ID up so the bartender could look at it through the clear plastic.
The dark-haired woman frowned, eyes darting between mine and my sister’s faces. “Sam? Willa? No way! I thought I recognized you two.” The woman grinned, holding her arms out. “You remember me? Misty Sullivan? We were on the cheer squad together my last year of school.”
“Oh my goodness! Misty!” I gasped and braced the soles of my boots on the footrest so I could lean over the counter. I gave her an awkward, one-armed hug. “You were cheer captain when I was a freshman.”
“Nice to see you.” Willa twirled her napkin around, not at all interested in the mini reunion.
“I love your nails,” I said.
“Thanks.” Misty pulled the beer tap, letting the amber liquid run for a moment before sliding two chilled pint glasses under the stream. “I’m not supposed to have polish now that this place went corporate, but the owner lets me get away with it.” She set two foam-topped pint glasses in front of us. “I’m sorry about your mom. She’d come in here a lot. She talked about you two a bunch—a really nice lady.”
Willa glanced up. “What did she say about us?”
“The usual mom stuff. She’d talk about your new jobs, boyfriends, general life updates.” Misty wrung a towel out over a stainless steel sink.
Willa shoulders slumped. “So she talked about Sam.”
Misty nodded, thoughtful. “Now that I think about it, she didn’t mention much about you, Willa.”
“She wouldn’t have had anything to say. I don’t do the social media thing,” Willa said. “It’s completely idiotic to post information on there. You know those pictures never go away.”
I rolled my eyes. “You’re so paranoid.”
“You are especially bad with social media,” Willa angled herself towards me. “I could’ve robbed your LA apartment, like, five separate times in the last year. You should not be posting vacation pictures in real time.”
“That’s why I make friends with my neighbors. They would tell me if someone was breaking in,” I said.
“And what if one of those neighbors turned out to be a serial killer, hm?” Willa asked. “What then?”
I shook my head. “You need a therapist.”
“And you need common sense,” Willa muttered.
“I don’t have social media either,” Misty offered. “I get all the gossip I want working at this bar.”
Willa turned her attention back to Misty. “Did my mom talk to anyone else when she came in here?”
Though Willa’s tone was casual, I had a feeling she was trying to get insight into my mom’s death.
“She’d talk to whoever,” Misty said. “Rosie Mitchell, Indiana Jones, Connor McGregor—you know he’s the sheriff now?”
“We know,” Willa said, taking a long drink of her beer.
Misty’s eyes glittered. “Didn’t you two date?”
Willa stiffened. “I guess.”
Misty laughed. “What kind of answer is that?”
Willa chewed her lower lip. “We just hung out a few times.” She gulped down more beer.
Misty leaned forward. “You think you two will pick up where you left off now that you're back?”
Willa almost choked on her beer. “Why do you care?”
“Just curious,” Misty said with an easy smile.
“No.” Willa’s knuckles turned white as she gripped her glass. Her eyes lit up with anger. “No, we’re not going to date.”
I shifted in my seat, wondering why Willa hadn’t told Misty to mind her own business yet.
Misty tipped her head towards my sister, watching her intently. “Between you and me, I think he’s still into you. I’ve seen him drunk a few times over the years. Those nights, he will not shut up about you.”
Willa’s eyes snapped up to Misty’s. “Don’t talk about Connor.”
Misty flashed me a conspiratorial smile. “Oh, I think someone’s got a crush. It’s cute.”
“Just shut up about Connor McGregor!” Willa snapped, slamming her glass on the counter. “Seriously, if you say one more word about him, you and I are going to have a big problem.”
“Wow, sorry.” Misty held up her palms defensively. “I was teasing you. Did I say something wrong?” Misty asked, turning to me.
“No, it’s not you, Misty.” I shook my head, trying to deescalate the situation. “My sister is simply an anti-social freak.”
Willa used her cocktail napkin to wipe up the beer she spilled. “Yeah, sorry. I haven’t slept much.”
I rubbed her back. “And you’re an anti-social freak.” I made the joke to lighten the mood.
It seemed to work because Willa’s lips twitched. “That
’s probably true.”
“You two are funny.” Misty flattened her palms on the bar top between us. “Are you just here for drinks or do you want to see a food menu?”
Willa planted her elbow on the counter. “We’ll do a large pizza with pineapple and jalapeños.”
“Sure thing.” With a cheerful nod, Misty stepped over to the touch screen register behind the bar and typed up the order.
I cleared my throat, slightly peeved that she didn’t consult me.
Willa noticed my irritation, swiveling towards me. “Is that OK with you?”
“It’s fine.” I folded my arms. “You’re clearly in a mood, so I’m not going to pick a fight.”
Willa shrugged. “If you didn’t want pizza, you could’ve said something.”
“Pizza's fine.” I flipped my hair over my shoulder as I settled into the bar stool. “But next time ask me.”
Willa made a show of rolling her eyes.
I crossed one leg over the other. “Is that your first beer?”
Willa bristled. “I’ve been driving all day, so yes.”
“OK,” I said nonchalantly, watching her profile.
“What?” Willa demanded.
“It’s just that Misty asked you a couple of questions and you blew up at her,” I said. “Maybe you should go home and sleep.”
Willa shook her head. “She caught me off guard. How could she possibly remember that Connor and I dated? That was twelve years ago.”
“Small town,” I said. “You know what it’s like there.”
“I guess.”
We fell into an uneasy silence, sipping our beers. After a moment, I asked, “Should we talk about what we’ve been up to since boarding school?”
“Why?” Willa asked. “I’ve looked at your social media. I got the gist.” She paused. “Unless there’s anything you want to tell me?”
“Not really,” I said.
“Good. Glad we’ve got that over with.” Willa brushed her hand over her short hair and lifted her glass. “Here’s to the first day of the rest of our lives—you and me against the world.”
“You and me.” I clinked my glass to hers and drank as I took in the updated woodsy decor of the restaurant.
An entire menagerie of taxidermy animals stared down at us from the ceiling—Dall sheep, bull moose, caribou, and a wolverine.
In the corner behind the bar was the legendary stuffed grizzly bear that had always made us giggle as kids because it was anatomically correct—a male grizzly bear. It stood on its hind legs with its eye-catching genitalia on display.
“Hey.” I nudged Willa. “The bear with the junk is still here.”
Willa started coughing, covering her mouth with her hand to keep from doing a spit-take. Once she swallowed, she said, “Will you look at that?” She admired the creature. “You know how when you go back to places as an adult and things don’t look as big as you remember? This is not one of those times.”
We were on our second round of drinks when I noticed a man saunter into the bar out of the corner of my eye. He wore a blue button-down shirt with several crease lines along the front. He’d obviously just pulled it right out its cardboard.
He paused near the host stand and checked his breath with his hand. Then he raked his hand over his dark hair.
It was none other than Wes from the bus.
Was this the all-important interview he’d traveled four hours to go to?
I spun back around in my chair, turning my head toward my sister so Wes wouldn’t see me as he made his way to the bar.
I didn’t want to get sucked into a potentially awkward conversation with this virtual stranger. What if he mentioned how I’d almost started crying on the bus?
Willa would never let me live that down.
Luckily, she was in her own little world. She absently drew shapes in the condensation on her pint glass, paying no attention to me or Wes.
Wes spoke to Misty in that same confident voice he’d used with the bus driver. “Good afternoon. I’m Wes Greenwood. I have an appointment with Mr. Graves for the sous chef position.”
“Oh.” Misty cleared her throat. “Someone should have called you to cancel.”
“Cancel?” Wes repeated.
“Yes. I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but after your background check came back, Mr. Graves decided against hiring you.”
I felt a tightening in my chest, sympathizing with the guy. Although, now I was curious as to what was on his background check that made Wes unhireable. I snuck a peek over to the corner of the bar.
Wes had on his shiny smile as he extended his hand over the bar top. “Misty, is it?” he asked, giving the waif-like woman a firm handshake. “I think we’ve spoken on the phone. I have four years of culinary school under my belt, and I am really good at what I do. Did Mr. Graves get a chance to call my references? My mentors speak very highly of me.”
Misty shrugged. “I don’t know if he did or not. I’m sure he’ll contact you if he changes his mind.”
Wes lifted his chin as he straightened up to his considerable height. “Is Mr. Graves available right now? I came up here from Anchorage for this interview. I think if I talked to him in person, he’d get a better sense of me. I understand that I may not look that great on paper.”
The bartender shook her head, a few strands of wispy dark hair falling out of her high ponytail. “He already left for the day. I don’t know what to tell you, hun. I’m sorry you came all this way.” She pursed her lips. “Why don’t you have a seat at the bar? I’ll comp your meal—the bacon cheeseburger is killer.”
Wes hesitated, glancing down at his leather portfolio. Then he nodded, resigned. “A burger sounds great,” he said. “That’s nice of you.”
“It’s the least I can do,” she said, reaching for a pint glass. “You want a beer?”
“Water’s fine.” He took the stool fours seats down from me, setting his leather portfolio on the bar top. He hunched over, rubbing his hands over his face.
His cheeks were flushed, but that was really the only visible sign that he was upset.
When Misty handed him the glass of water, he yanked his cell and a tangled phone charger out of his pocket. “Can I bother you for an outlet? My phone’s been dead all day.”
“Sure.” The bartender smiled and took his phone, giving him a pat on the shoulder. “Chin up. A lot of places are hiring now with the tourist season coming up. You’ve got a nice face. Someone will hire you.”
“Yeah.” Wes took a big gulp of water. “I’m not worried.” He set his glass down and started shredding the edges of his cocktail napkin.
“Sucks to be that guy,” Willa mumbled.
When I didn’t respond, she elbowed me.
“Hello? Sam? You’re staring. Is he a friend of yours?”
“No.” I felt my cheeks warm as I leaned over my beer, letting my hair fall around my face like a curtain.
“Then why are you staring at him?” Willa asked.
“What else is there to look at?” I complained. “The bear with the junk?”
Willa laughed. “Good point.” She stuck her finger in her beer, stirring the carbonated liquid around. “You want to see something cool? More of my magic is coming back.” Slowly, she drew her finger out of the liquid and to my surprise, the beer began to lift up out of her glass like a dancing cobra. Her blue eyes lit up. “Are you seeing this?”
I kicked her shin under the counter. “Willa. Stop. Do you want everyone in town to know what we are?”
The beer sloshed back into the glass as Willa let go of the spell. She sucked the liquid off her finger. “Relax. It’s a bar. They’ll just think they had too much to drink.”
Then her eyes flicked to the space above my head. “Hey, are you sure you don’t know that guy?” Willa asked, leaning back on her stool. “Because he’s walking over now.”
Wes appeared between Willa and me, clutching his half-full water glass in his fist. “Well, if it isn’t Samantha Craven—
as in, not my sister.”
“Hello,” I said, giving Wes a polite smile.
Willa eyed the man. “And how do you two know each other?”
“We don’t,” I said quickly. “He’s an acquaintance.”
Wes grinned. “Oh, come on, Samantha. You and I go way back. Just yesterday, we slept together.”
Willa’s eyebrows shot up. “Um, what?”
“He’s kidding,” I cut in, my shoulders tensing. “Willa, this is Wes, a guy I sat next to on the bus. Wes, this is my sister, Willa.” I extended my palms. “Now everyone knows everyone.”
Willa frowned. “And you two slept together?”
“No, we didn’t,” I said hastily. “He thinks it’s funny to say because I fell asleep on the bus while he was sitting in the next seat.”
“Oh, got it.” Willa nodded. “Yeah, that’s funny.”
“It’s not,” I said.
“Mm, it’s a little funny,” Willa said.
“I’m sorry. I’ll stop.” Wes held up his hands. “I don’t want to interrupt sister time. I just thought I’d say hi.”
“You don’t have to leave. Any friend of Sam’s is a friend of mine.” Willa crossed her leg over the other, her leather combat boot dangling. “Tough break with the job,” she said, tipping her head towards where Misty stood polishing wine glasses with a blue microfiber towel.
For a split second, disappointment broke across Wes’ face. He recovered quickly with an easy shrug. “You win some, you lose some. I’ve got plenty of other options.”
“What was all that with your background check?” Willa asked.
I glared at her. “Willa, that’s rude.” I turned to Wes. “You don’t have to answer that.”
“It’s OK.” Wes shoved his hand in the pocket of his dress pants. “I’ve gotten in trouble with the law. You know—the mistakes of my youth.”
“But specifically what?” Willa pressed. “Theft, car-jacking, murder?”
“Willa, shut up,” I begged.
Just then, Misty arrived with our pizza along with plates, silverware, and parmesan cheese shakers. “Your burger will be up soon, cutie,” she said to Wes.
Bake or Die Page 4