Chapter One
February
“I didn’t mean for it to happen, Abigail. I swear!”
“You didn’t mean for it to happen! You didn’t mean to put your...” My
words fall apart with my sobs. I can barely see Jed’s face through my tears.
Tears that haven’t stopped since I ran for my dorm room earlier today. Tears
that have left my skin raw and tight. And every time I think I’m all cried
out, the image of Jed and her flashes inside my head and a fresh wave hits.
I wipe my dripping nose against my sweatshirt sleeve. I’m far past the
point of caring what I look like. “Who is she, anyway?”
“Nobody important.” He brushes his own tears away with his palm
and then reaches for my face, cupping my cheeks. “You are my whole life.
You’ve always been my whole life. Always! You know that, right? Tell me
you know that!”
I swallow against the sharp knot lodged in my throat but it doesn’t
budge. I knew that. Up until today. “Then why would you break my heart?”
His handsome face flinches as if I’d slapped him. Something I wish I
had the nerve to do. “You weren’t supposed to find out.”
Oh my God! “That makes it better?”
“No, that’s not what I’m saying.” He hangs his head for a moment.
“Look, we’re getting married next year and then it’s just you and me. It’s
been just you and me for all these years. And,” he swallows, hesitates, “this
is something I’ve been thinking about. A lot, lately.”
“About cheating on me?”
“No! About, you know...” He winces. “Sex.”
That’s what this is all about? “Why didn’t you tell me? I would have
—”
“No, Abigail.” Jed’s face is suddenly stern. “You and me, we’re doin’
it the right way by waiting until we’re man and wife. You’re so innocent. So
pure.” He leans forward, pressing his forehead against mine. “It means
everything to me that you’ll give that to me on our wedding night. But”—a
sheepish look overtakes his face—“I’m a guy. It’s different for me.”
“How is it different?” Who is this person sitting in front of me?
“Because we’re weak! This is something I need to do. I need to get
this out of my system, or I’m afraid I’ll make a mistake down the road,
when it really matters. Trust me on this one. You don’t want me straying
later on, when we have kids, do you?”
I’m listening, but I’m not believing these words coming out of Jed’s
mouth. “So we’re breaking up?”
“No.” He frowns. “Not exactly. We’re taking a little breather, okay?
Just until I can get my head on straight. But we’re meant to be, you and
me.” He brushes strands of hair off my face, like he’s done a thousand
times. “I’ll come back to you. I promise.”
I’m so angry and hurt, I can’t even face him anymore, so I fix my
eyes on the small gumball machine promise ring he gave me on my
sixteenth birthday, my sobs drowning out the rest of his words.
~ ~ ~ ~
April
“Look directly into the camera when you answer the questions,” the
woman commands, her cold blue irises piercing behind a pair of trendy
horn-rimmed glasses. Between those, her honey-blonde bun, the fitted black
business suit and four-inch heels, she could pass for one of those
librarian/strippers instead of a corporate recruiter.
I adjust my practical gold-wire-framed round spectacles. “Okay.”
She readies the iPhone sitting in the stand for taping while I fidget
on my stool, tucking wayward strands of my ginger hair behind my ear and
smoothing the wrinkles from my shirt. I didn’t come dressed for a
videotaped interview. I figured this job fair would be like any other; I’d
wander by some basic booths, collect a few pamphlets, and talk to
representatives who want to be anywhere but a Chicago library on a
Saturday.
For the most part, that’s what it is. But the booth for Wolf Hotels is
different. It’s three times the size as of the others, with sharply-dressed
recruiters and an on-site interviewing station behind a screen, to help speed
up the hiring process for those who meet the basic criteria.
And the only reason I made the basic criteria is because I lied on the
paper application that I filled out twenty minutes ago. Now I’m petrified of
getting caught.
“Full name, please.”
I’ve always hated being on camera. I clear my throat nervously.
“Abigail Mitchell. But I go by Abbi,” I’m quick to add. My mama calls me
Abigail, and everyone else from my hometown calls me Abigail because of
my mama. I’ve never liked it.
The interviewer is stone-faced. She doesn’t care what I go by. “The
role that you’re applying for?”
“Outdoor Maintenance and Landscaping?” I think that was the
official title on the application form.
“And please describe your experience that will be invaluable to us,
Abigail.”
“It’s Abbi.” I force my biggest smile and hope my annoyance doesn’t
show on video when they play it back later. “Sure. Well, first off, I love the
outdoors. I grew up on a farm and have spent years baling hay, throwing
bags of grain, and hauling buckets of water for the animals. So don’t worry,
I’m plenty strong.” People don’t believe that I am. My slim five-foot-five
stature is deceiving, but one look at my body in shorts and a tank will attest
that I’m feminine but honed with muscle from long days on the Mitchell
farm.
I’ve already provided all of this information on the handwritten
application form, but I guess they want the live version as well. “I’ve run
my own landscaping company for five years, operating out of Greenbank,
Pennsylvania, maintaining commercial properties with excellence.” I’ve
been pulling dandelions and cutting grass around my podunk town every
summer since I was fourteen. To call what I do “landscaping” is a farce. But
if it gets me this job, far the hell away from my life, I’ll say anything.
“Were any of these properties hotels?”
“Yes.” Never say “no” in an interview. Always find a way to spin it
into a yes.
“Please tell me about these hotels.”
Crap. And there it is. I’ve never been a good liar. “It was just one,
actually. It’s called the Inn. It’s...an upscale bed-and-breakfast.” Three
rooms in an old Victorian house, run by Perry and Wendy Rhodes. I hear
one of the rooms is decorated with a cat theme. Cat wallpaper, cat pillows.
Cats, everywhere.
By the way the woman’s painted red lips are pressed together, I’m
pretty sure my answer is not the one she was looking for. “Okay. Thank
you. I also see here that you worked weekends serving customers at a place
called the Pearl for several years.”
“Yes. That’s my aunt’s restaurant. I’d help her out during the busy
season.” I hesitated about using Aunt May as a reference. I can’t be sure
she’ll give me a glowing recommendation if it means I won’t be coming
back to Greenbank for the summer. Mama would have her skin if she ever
found out she helped make that happen.
“What type of establishment is it?”
“A family restaurant.”
“So, not fine dining?”
I sigh. “No. I wouldn’t call it that.” Slapping together hot turkey
sandwiches and pouring Cokes from a fountain does not make for fine
dining.
“And have you ever cleaned houses professionally... No,” she says,
seeing me shake my head fervently, my face twisting with disdain at even
the suggestion. That means dealing with fitted sheets all day long, and that
sounds like torture to me.
“I see you’ve also done receptionist work.”
Finally, something I can answer truthfully and positively. “Yes. I’ve
worked part-time in my church’s office for years. I still do, when I go home
for the summer.”
“What exactly did you do for them?”
“Answer phones and schedule appointments for the Reverend. I also
balance the church’s books and organize the annual Corn Roast weekend
charity BBQ for our parish.” Something I can’t bring myself to do again
this summer, but will be guilted into doing by my mama and the reverend,
should I go back to Greenbank.
She scans my application. “I see you’re in school right now.” She
pauses, and I realize that I’m supposed to answer her.
“Yes. I have one more year in a Bachelor of Arts degree.” The right
side of my face is burning from the heat of the lamp. I imagine this is what
an interrogation feels like. How much longer is this going to take?
“Are you able to commit to the four-month contract, from May
through August?”
“North Gate College starts in September and exams finish at the end
of this month, so that won’t be a problem.”
She smiles. “Good. And what are your plans for after college,
Abbi?”
My face falls before I’m able to control my expression. That
question catches me off guard. She’s talking about next summer, and all I
can focus on is getting through today, tomorrow, and this summer. Ideally in
Alaska.
Is this where I’m supposed to lie and say that I aspire for a career
with Wolf Hotels? I debate my answer for a few heartbeats, and finally
decide on the truth. “Honestly, I’m not sure anymore. I was supposed to get
married and help run the family farm, but my fiancé and I are—” I stop
myself with a deep breath and then an embarrassed little smile. So
inappropriate for an interview. “My personal situation is in limbo,” I say
instead, my voice growing husky, my eyes burning with the threat of tears.
It’s all still too fresh, too raw. “I’ll probably go back home. My family’s
there.”
“And help run the farm?” Her eyes graze over me—over my thick
braid that I can’t help but toy with when I’m nervous, over my favorite
royal-blue button-down that’s probably been washed one too many times,
over my generic jeans, and down to my Converse—and I know she’s
judging me. I sit up straighter, feeling more self-conscious than I already do
being in front of a camera.
I look nothing like her, or any of the other recruiters here. They’re all
put together, with smooth, richly colored hair and perfectly painted faces. I
don’t wear much makeup; just a little lip gloss and, on occasion, shimmery
pink nail polish. I don’t use hairspray and not a drop of dye has ever
touched my hair for fear that it’ll make the color worse than it already is.
“Yes.” That has always been the plan. But now I feel like I need to
defend myself. I’m not just another farm girl, getting ready to bake pies and
pop out little farm babies. “I started a side business making soaps,
moisturizers, and essential oils a few years back. It’s called Sage Oils. I’m
going to focus on expanding that.” Sage, after my favorite herb, though my
products involve everything from mint to lavender to lemon. Up until this
point, the bulk of my sales have been thanks to the annual Christmas bazaar
and summer fair. I can’t complain though; that money will pay for my flight
to Homer, should Wolf hire me.
“My, you’re quite the enterprising young woman. And so busy.
Landscaping and soapmaking businesses, college, farming...” I can’t read
the woman’s tone to tell if she’s genuinely impressed. “And what do you do
for enjoyment, Abbi?”
I bite my bottom lip to stop myself from saying “Umm” while I
think. Wolf Hotels is one of the most posh lines of hotels in the world. I
need to sound smart if I have a hope in hell of getting this job. “As you
have noted, I’m quite busy with work and school. When I have free time, I
spend it with my family, and with my church, solidifying my faith.” Which
is in some dicey water as of late. “I also volunteer at the local animal
shelter, both here in Chicago as well as at home.”
“So you like animals?”
“Yes!” I nod emphatically. “I’m excited to see Alaska’s wilderness.”
She offers me a tight smile. “Right. Last question. Why should we
hire you to work at Wolf Cove in Alaska?”
I look down at the pamphlet in my hand—pictures of white-capped
mountains and vast wilderness, glacier valleys and volcanoes.
Thousands of miles of serenity, of nothingness.
Thousands of miles from my current life.
They don’t want to listen to my sob story, and it’s sure as hell not
going to get me hired. I struggle to smile as I stare into the camera, silently
pleading with my eyes to whoever is making the hiring decisions. “Because
I’m smart, hardworking, diligent, and ethical. I respect people and I love a
challenge. Plus, I’ve always wanted to visit Alaska, and this looks like an
incredible once-in-a-lifetime opportunity.” I clear my throat. “I have
nothing to distract my focus. I will give Wolf Cove everything I have to
offer this summer.”
She presses a button and steps around. “Great. Thank you. We’ll be
in touch.”
“When will you be making your decisions?” It’s the beginning of
April; I’d be flying out in four weeks if I get hired.
“Shortly. We’ve already filled many of the positions from our pool
of current Wolf employees who are interested in the Alaska location. We’re
just plugging some last-minute holes with outside recruitment.” She sticks
my application into a red file folder. Is that the reject file?
“Do I have a chance? Honestly.” I can’t believe I asked that, but I
have nothing left to lose.
“We tend to hire people who already have luxury hotel chain
experience. But we’ll be in touch.” She stands there with her arm leading
the way to the exit.
My shoulders sag. I force myself to leave before I beg her to put in a
good word for me.
There’s no way I’m getting this job.
