Читать книгу Alaska Skies: Brides for Brothers / The Marriage Risk - Debbie Macomber - Страница 12
ОглавлениеAbbey 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.”
Abbey was relieved. If she did get the job, she’d have to have her furniture and other household effects delivered; without a road, that would obviously have been a problem. Flying them was sure to be prohibitively expensive.
“Do you have any more questions for me?” she asked.
“None.” Christian looked at his watch. “Would you mind filling out the application form while you’re here? I’ll be holding interviews for the next day or so. I’ll call you tomorrow afternoon, if that’s all right.”
Abbey stood. “That’d be fine.”
Christian gave her the one-page application, which she completed quickly and gave back to him.
He rose from behind the table and extended his hand. “It was a pleasure to meet you.”
“You, too.” Even before she’d come in for the interview, she’d known she’d accept the position if it was offered to her. She needed a job, needed to support her family. If that meant traveling to the ends of the earth, she’d do it. But as she turned to walk away, Abbey realized she not only needed this position, she wanted it. Badly.
She loved the idea of creating her own library. But it wasn’t just the challenge of the job that excited her. She’d watched this man’s eyes light up as he talked about his home. When he said Hard Luck was beautiful, he’d said it with sincerity, with passion. When he told her about the tundra and the forest, she could imagine their beauty. She’d seen plenty of photographs and even a National Geographic documentary, but it was his words that truly convinced her. More than that, excited her.
“Mr. O’Halloran?” she said, surprising herself.
He was already seated, leafing intently through a sheaf of papers. He glanced up. “Yes?”
“If you decide to hire me, I promise I’ll do a good job for you and the people in Hard Luck.”
He nodded. “And I promise I’ll phone you soon.”
* * *
“Well?” Scott looked at Abbey expectantly when she walked into the house. “How’d the interview go?”
Abbey slipped off her pumps and curled her toes into the carpet. “Fine—I think.”
“Will you get the job?”
Abbey didn’t want to build up her son’s hopes. “I don’t know, honey. Where’s Missy?” Since she paid the teenage babysitter top dollar, she expected her to stay with Scott and Susan for the agreed-upon number of hours.
“Her mother wanted her to put a roast in the oven at four-thirty. Susan went with her. They’ll be back soon.”
Abbey collapsed into her favorite chair and dangled her arms over the sides. Her feet rested on the ottoman.
“Are you finished your homework?” she asked.
“I don’t have any. There’s only a couple more weeks left of school.”
“I know.”
Abbey dreaded the summer months. Every year, day camp and babysitting were more and more expensive. Scott was getting old enough to resent having a teenager stay with him. Not that Abbey blamed him. Before she knew it, her son would be thirteen himself.
“Would it be okay if I went over to Jason’s house?” he asked eagerly. “I’ll be home in time for dinner.”
Abbey nodded, but she knew it wasn’t the other boy he was interested in seeing. It was those puppies that’d captured his nine-year-old heart.
* * *
Sawyer walked into the long, narrow structure that sat next to the gravel-and-dirt runway. The mobile served as the office for Midnight Sons. Eventually they hoped to build a real office. That had been on the agenda for the past eight years—ever since they’d started the business. During those years, Charles and Sawyer had built their own homes. Sawyer’s was across the street from Christian’s place, which had been the O’Halloran family home. Charles’s house was one street over—not that there were paved streets in Hard Luck.
But they’d been too busy running Midnight Sons—flying cargo and passengers, hiring pilots, negotiating contracts and all the other myriad responsibilities that came with a business like theirs. Constructing an office building was just another one of those things they hadn’t gotten around to doing.
Exhausted, Sawyer threw himself down on the hard-backed swivel chair at Christian’s desk. Cleaning those old cabins was proving to be hard work. Much more of this, he thought ruefully, and he was going to end up with dishpan hands.
He’d been astonished—and impressed—by the willingness of their pilots to pitch in and make those old cabins livable. One thing was for sure; the log structures were solid. A few minor repairs, lots of soapy water and a little attention had done wonders. Not that a forty-year-old log cabin was going to impress a city girl. More than likely, the women Christian hired would take one look at those shacks and book the next flight south.
The phone pealed and Sawyer reached for it. As he did, he noticed the message light blinking.
“Midnight Sons.”
“Where have you been all day?” Christian grumbled. “I’ve left three messages. I’ve been sitting here waiting for you to call me back.”
“Sorry,” Sawyer muttered, biting back the temptation to offer to trade places. While Christian was gallivanting all over kingdom come securing airplane parts, talking to travel agents, meeting women and generally having a good time, Sawyer had been wielding a mop and pail. In Sawyer’s opinion, his younger brother had gotten the better end of this deal. As for himself, he’d seen enough cobwebs in the past week to last him a lifetime.
“You can tell Duke I found him a blonde,” Christian announced triumphantly. “Her name’s Allison Reynolds, and she’s going to be our secretary—well, maybe.”
Sawyer’s jaw tightened as he made an effort to hold back his irritation. “What’re her qualifications?”
“You mean other than being blonde?” Christian asked, then chuckled. “I’m telling you, Sawyer, I’ve never seen anything like this in my life. I placed the ad in the Seattle paper, and the answering service has been swamped. There are a lot of lonely women in this world.”
“Does our new secretary know she’ll be living in a log cabin without the comforts of home?”
“Naturally I told her about the cabin, but, uh, I didn’t have a chance to go into all the details.”
“Christian! That’s hardly a detail. She’ll be expecting to see modern plumbing, not a path to the outhouse. Women don’t like that kind of surprise.”
“I didn’t want to scare her off,” he argued.
“She deserves the truth.”
“I know, I know. Actually I offered her the position and she’s thinking it over. If she decides to accept the job, I’ll give her more information.”
“You mean to tell me that out of all the women who applied, you chose one who isn’t even sure she wants the job?” Sawyer didn’t often fly off the handle, but his brother was annoying him more than usual.
“Trust me, Allison wants the position,” Christian insisted. “She just needs to think about it. I would, too, in the circumstances.” He paused. “Our ad certainly attracted a lot of attention.”
Sawyer had carefully gone over the ad they’d submitted to the Seattle and Portland papers. He’d been concerned that they not inadvertently put in anything that might be misleading or violate the antidiscrimination laws. So there was nothing in the ad to suggest a man couldn’t apply. No one wanted to deal with a lawsuit a few weeks down the road.
“I must’ve talked to at least thirty women in the past couple of days,” Christian said, his voice ringing with enthusiasm. “And there were that many more phone inquiries.”
“What about a librarian? Has anyone applied for that?”
“A few, but not nearly as many as for the position of secretary. The minute I met Allison—”
“Does she type?”
“She must,” Christian answered. “She works in an office.”
“Didn’t you give her a test?” Sawyer asked, not bothering to conceal his disgust.
“What for? It isn’t like she’ll need a hundred words a minute, is it?”
Sawyer rubbed his face. “I can’t believe I’m hearing this.”
“Wait until you meet her, Sawyer,” Christian said happily. “She’s a knockout.”
“Oh, great.” He could picture it already. His crew would be hanging around the office, tongues hanging out over a dizzy blonde, instead of flying. Midnight Sons didn’t need this kind of trouble.
“Don’t worry about it,” his brother said. “I’ve made a lot of progress. You should be pleased.”
“It doesn’t sound like you’ve done much of anything.” Sawyer was fuming. He’d hoped—obviously a futile hope—that Christian would use a bit of common sense.
“Listen, I haven’t made up my mind which woman to hire for our librarian. There were a couple of excellent applicants.”
“Any blondes?” Sawyer asked sarcastically.
“Yeah, one, but she looked too fragile to last. I liked her, though. There’s another one who seemed to really want the job. It makes me wonder why she’d leave a cushy job here in Seattle for Hard Luck. It’s not like we’re offering great benefits.”
“But a house and twenty acres sounds like a lot,” Sawyer said from between clenched teeth.
“You think I should hire her?”
He sighed. “If she’s qualified and she wants the job, then by all means, hire her.”
“Okay. I’ll give her a call as soon as we’re finished and make the arrangements.”
“Just a minute.” Sawyer shoved one hand through his hair. “Is she pretty?” He was quickly losing faith in his brother’s judgment. Christian had already decided on a secretary, and he didn’t know if she could so much as file. Heaven help them all if he hired the rest of the applicants based on their looks rather than their qualifications.
Christian hesitated. “I suppose you could say the librarian’s pretty, but she isn’t going to bowl you over the way Allison will. She’s just sort of regular pretty. Brown hair and eyes, average height. Cute upturned nose.
“Now with Allison, well, there’s no comparison. We’re talking sexy here. Wait until John gets a look at her...front,” Christian said, and chuckled. “She’s swimsuit-issue material.”
“Hire her!” Sawyer snapped.
“Allison? I already have, but she wants twenty-four hours to think it over. I told you that.”
“I meant the librarian.”
“Oh, all right, if you think I should.”
Sawyer propped his elbows on the desk and shook his head. “Anything else you called to tell me about?”
“Not much. I’m not doing any more interviews for now. Allison and the librarian, plus the new teacher, that’s three—enough to start with. Let’s see how things work out. I’ve collected a couple of dozen résumés, and I’ll save them for future reference. Unless I find a cook for Ben or—”
“Don’t hire any more,” Sawyer insisted. He was well aware that he sounded short-tempered, but frankly he was and he didn’t care if his brother knew it.
“Oh, yeah, I meant to tell you. If Allison does take the job, she won’t be able to start right away. Apparently she’s booked a vacation with a friend. I told her that’s okay. We’ve waited this long. Another couple of weeks won’t matter.”
“Why don’t you ask her if next year would be convenient?”
“Very funny. What’s wrong with you? I get the feeling you’re envious—not that I blame you. I wish we’d thought of this a long time ago. Meeting and talking to all these women is a lot of fun. See you.”
The phone went dead in Sawyer’s hand.
* * *
Abbey’s spirits were low. Dragging-in-the-gutter low. She hadn’t got the job. O’Halloran would’ve phoned by now if he’d decided to hire her.
Scott and Susan, ever sensitive to her moods, pushed their dinner around their plates. No one seemed to have much of an appetite.
“It doesn’t look like I got the job in Alaska,” she told them. There wasn’t any reason to keep her children’s hopes alive. “Mr. O’Halloran, the man who interviewed me, was supposed to call this afternoon if he’d chosen me.”
“That’s all right, Mom,” Scott said with a brave smile. “You’ll find something else.”
“I wanted to go to Alaska,” Susan said, her lower lip trembling. “I told everyone at school we were moving.”
“We are.” Abbey knew this was of little comfort, but she threw it in, anyway. “It just so happens that we won’t be moving to Alaska.”
“Can we visit there someday?” Scott asked. “I liked what we read in those books you brought home. It seems like a great place.”
“Someday.” Someday, Abbey realized, could be a magical word, filled with the promise of a brighter tomorrow. At the moment, though, it just sounded bleak.
The phone rang, and both Susan and Scott twisted around, looking eagerly at the kitchen wall. Neither of them moved. Abbey didn’t allow the dinner hour to be interrupted by phone calls.
“The machine will pick up the message,” she told them unnecessarily.
After the fourth ring, the answering machine automatically clicked on. Everyone went still, straining to hear who’d phoned.
“This is Christian O’Halloran.”
“Mom!” Scott cried excitedly.
Abbey flew across the kitchen, ripping the phone off the hook. “Mr. O’Halloran,” she said breathlessly, “hello.”
“Hello,” Christian responded. “I’m glad I caught you.”
“I’m glad you caught me, too. Have you made your decision?” She hated to sound so eager, but she couldn’t stop herself.
“You’ve got the job, if you still want it.”
“I do,” Abbey said, giving Scott and Susan a thumbs-up. Her son and daughter stabbed triumphant fists in the air.
“When can you start?”
Abbey was certain the library would let her leave with minimal notice. “Whenever it’s convenient for you.”
“How about next week?” Christian asked. “I won’t return from my business trip until the end of the month, but I’ll arrange for my brother Sawyer to meet you in Fairbanks.”
“Next week?”
“Is that too soon?”
“No, no,” she said quickly, fearing he might change his mind. She could take the kids out of school a week early, and she wouldn’t need much time to pack their belongings. Her mother would help, and whatever they didn’t take with them on the plane—like their furniture—she could have shipped later.
“I’ll see you in Hard Luck, then.”
“Thank you. I can’t tell you how pleased I am,” she said. “Oh, before I hang up...” she began, thinking she should probably mention the fact that she’d be bringing Scott and Susan. Despite the provision of housing, there was nothing on the application asking about children or family.
“I’ll be with you in a minute, Allison,” Christian said.
“Excuse me?”
“My dinner date just arrived,” he told her. “As I explained, my brother will meet you in Fairbanks. I’ll have the travel agency call you to make the arrangements for your ticket.”
“You’re paying my airfare?”
“Of course. And don’t worry about packing for the winter. You can buy what you need once you arrive.”
“But—”
“I wish I had more time to answer your questions,” he said distractedly. “Sawyer’s really the one who can tell you what you need to know.”
“Mr. O’Halloran—”
“Good luck, Abbey.”
“Thank you.” She gave up trying. He’d learn about Scott and Susan when he returned. As far as she was concerned, the town was getting a great librarian—plus a bonus!
* * *
“You sure you don’t want me to fly in and meet the new librarian this afternoon?” John Henderson asked, straddling the chair across from Sawyer. His hair had been dampened and combed down, and it looked as if he was wearing a new shirt.
“Be my guest.” You’d think the Queen of England was flying in judging by the way folks in Hard Luck were behaving. Duke had arrived at Ben’s this morning clean-shaven and spiffed up, smelling pungently of aftershave. Sawyer hid a grin. The next woman would follow in a few days, and he wondered how long it would take for everyone to get tired of these welcoming parties.
“You’ll let John pick up the new librarian over my dead body,” Duke barked. “We all know what happened the last time he flew a woman into Hard Luck.”
“I keep telling you that wasn’t my fault.”
“Forget it! I’ll pick her up.” Sawyer looked away from his squabbling pilots in disgust and happened to notice the blackboard where Ben wrote out the daily lunch and dinner specials.
“Beef Wellington?” he asked.
“You got a problem with Beef Wellington?” Ben muttered belligerently. “I’m just trying to show our new librarian that we’re a civilized bunch.”
In Sawyer’s opinion, this whole project didn’t show a lot of promise. He’d bet none of these women would last the winter. The bad feeling he’d experienced when they first discussed the idea had returned tenfold.
“You talk to that Seattle paper yet?” Ben asked, setting a plate of scrambled eggs and toast in front of him.
“No.” Sawyer frowned. The press was becoming a problem. It wasn’t surprising that the media had gotten hold of the situation and wanted to do stories on it. They’d been hounding Sawyer for interviews all week—thanks to Christian, who’d given out his name. He was damn near ready to throttle his younger brother. And he was sorely tempted to have the phone disconnected; if it wasn’t vital for business, he swore he would’ve done it already.
Now that the first woman was actually arriving, Sawyer regretted not discussing The Plan with their oldest brother. Although Charles was a full partner in the flight service, he was employed as a surveyor for Alaska Oil and was often away from Hard Luck for weeks on end. Like right now.
When he did get home, Charles would probably think they’d all lost their minds. Sawyer wouldn’t blame him, either.
“Well, the cabin’s ready, anyway,” Duke said with satisfaction.
After they’d scrubbed down the walls and floors, Sawyer and a few of the men had opened up the storeroom in the lodge and dug out some of the old furniture. Sawyer had expressed doubts about sleeping on mattresses that had been tucked away for so many years, but Pearl and various other women—including several who were wives of pipeline maintenance workers—had aired everything out. They’d assured him that aside from some lingering mustiness, there was nothing to worry about. Everything had been well wrapped in plastic.
As much as Sawyer hated to admit it, the cabin looked almost inviting. The black potbellied stove gleamed from repeated scrubbing. The women had sewn floral curtains for the one window and a matching tablecloth for the rough wooden table. The townspeople had stacked the shelves with groceries, and someone had even donated a cooler to keep perishables fresh for a few days. The single bed, made up with sun-dried linens and one thin blanket, did resemble something one might find in a prison, but Sawyer didn’t say so. Pearl and her friends had worked hard to make the cabin as welcoming as possible.
When he’d stopped there on his way to Ben’s for breakfast, he saw that someone had placed a Mason jar of freshly cut wildflowers on the table. Right beside the kerosene lantern and the can opener.
Well, this was as good as it got.
“How are you going to know it’s her when she steps off the plane?” Ben asked, standing directly in front of him and watching him eat.
“I’m wearing my Midnight Sons jacket,” Sawyer answered. “I’ll let her figure it out.”
“What’s her name again?”
“Abbey Sutherland.”
“I bet she’s pretty,” Duke muttered.
His pilots gazed sightlessly into the distance, longing written on their faces. Sawyer wouldn’t have believed it if he hadn’t seen it with his own eyes.
“I’m getting out of here before you three make me lose my breakfast.”
“You sure you don’t want me to ride along with you?” John asked hopefully.
“I’m sure.” Sawyer would also be bringing back the mail and a large order of canned goods for the grocery. He was flying the Baron, and he sincerely hoped Abbey Sutherland had packed light. He didn’t have room for more than two suitcases, and he intended to store those in the nose.
Grabbing his jacket from the back of the chair, Sawyer headed out the door and across Hard Luck’s main street toward the runway.
He could’ve flown into Fairbanks with his eyes closed, he’d made the flight so often. He landed, took care of loading up the mail and other freight, then—with a sense of dread—made his way to the terminal.
After checking the monitor to make sure the flight was coming in on time, Sawyer bought a coffee and ventured out to the assigned gate.
He was surprised by how busy the terminal was. Tourists, he guessed. Not that he was complaining. They brought a lot of money into the state. Not as much as oil did, of course, but they certainly represented a healthy part of the economy.
Even the airport was geared toward impressing tourists, he noted. The first thing many saw when they walked in was a massive mounted polar bear, rearing up on its hind legs. Although he’d seen it a hundred times, Sawyer still felt awed by it.
The plane arrived on schedule. Sipping coffee, Sawyer waited for the passengers to enter the terminal.
He glanced at each one, not knowing what to expect. Christian’s description of Abbey Sutherland sure left something to be desired. From what he remembered, Christian had said she was “regular” pretty.
Every woman he saw seemed to match that description, such as it was. With the exception of one.
She was probably in her early thirties. She had two kids at her side. The little girl, who couldn’t have been more than six or seven, clutched a stuffed bear. The boy, perhaps two or three years older, looked as if he needed a leash to hold him back. The kid was raring to go.
The woman wasn’t pretty, Sawyer decided, she was downright lovely. Her glossy brown hair was short and straight and fell to just below her ears. Her eyes skirted past him. He liked their warm brown color and he liked her calm manner.
He also liked the way she protectively drew her children close as she looked around. She too, it seemed, was seeking someone.
With a determined effort, Sawyer pulled his gaze away from her and scanned the crowd for Christian’s librarian.
Brown hair and cute upturned nose.
He found himself looking back at the woman with the two children. Their eyes met, and her generous mouth formed a smile. It wasn’t a shy smile or a coy one. It was open and friendly, as if she recognized him and expected him to recognize her.
Then she walked right over to him. “Hello,” she said.
“Hello.” Fearing he’d miss the woman he’d come to meet, his eyes slid past her to the people still disembarking from the plane.
“I’m Abbey Sutherland.”
Sawyer’s gaze shot back to her before dropping to the two kids.
“These are my children, Scott and Susan,” she said. “Thank you for meeting us.”
