“Hamburger?”
“No…it’s something different.”
He let Mary try hers first, watching as she took a bite. Her face remained expressionless for several seconds, then she smiled and nodded. “This isn’t bad.”
“What is it?” Ben felt a man had a right to know what he was tasting.
“Just try it,” she urged.
He would’ve refused if he wasn’t so hungry. He bit tentatively into the bun. He wasn’t sure exactly what was in the filling, but whatever it was tasted…exotic. In fact, it was downright flavorful.
“Not bad,” he agreed. “What is it?”
Mary McMurphy smiled. “A veggie burger. I combined several recipes and added a few ingredients of my own.”
Ben wouldn’t have believed anyone could make vegetables appetizing enough to serve on a hamburger bun, but she’d done it. He polished off the first quarter and reached for the second.
“Do you like it?” she asked eagerly.
He probably should’ve played it cool, let her think the food was just passable, but her eyes were so wide and hopeful. For the life of him, Ben couldn’t dash her spirits. “It’s good enough to eat, which is more than I can say about Bethany’s. That stuff could kill a man’s appetite for years to come.”
Happiness radiated from her smile. “Thank you, Ben.”
To the best of his knowledge, this was the first time Mary McMurphy had called him anything other than Mr. Hamilton.
DUKE STOPPED and checked his mailbox at the Hard Luck post office once a week or so. He hardly ever received more than bills. Occasionally he got a letter from his mother, but that only happened a few times a year.
He unlocked Box E and retrieved one envelope. The first thing he noticed was the handwriting. Not a bill; his bills were computer-generated. As soon as he saw the return address—in Seattle—he knew the letter was from Tracy.
He resisted the temptation to rip it open then and there. Back at the bunkhouse, he sat on the end of his bed and tugged open the flap. Inside was a business card, with her name scrawled across the front in bold letters, and a greeting card, with a note inside. He read it eagerly:
Hello, Duke,
Just a note to check up on my knight in shining armor. How’s the arm doing?
I’m back into the swing of things here, busy as ever.
You said that if you were ever in need of an attorney, you’d call on me. I hope you meant that. I’ve taken the liberty of enclosing my business card.
Mariah said you’d had a run-in with Bill Landgrin. I hate all the questions, too. I still think of you.
Fondly,
Tracy Santiago
Fondly. What did that mean? I still think of you. What was she saying? Duke read the card a second time and then a third. He scowled, wondering exactly what Mariah had told her about his clash with Bill. He hoped she didn’t know how angry and aggressive he’d been, how much he’d overreacted. Losing control was out of character for him. Granted, Landgrin was a jerk, but a verbal putdown or two would’ve sufficed. No, Duke had lashed out for only one reason—he missed Tracy.
For days now he’d been fighting memories of her. And losing the fight. This kind of weakness was foreign to Duke, but he was beginning to realize he couldn’t ignore the effect she’d had on his heart. Even his mind was playing tricks on him. Thoughts of her invaded his sleep. Night after night, she was there to greet him when he closed his eyes.
He missed her. He missed her smile and the way the corners of her mouth turned up ever so slightly, as if she didn’t want him to see how amused she was. He missed her sarcasm and her opinionated ideas. He even missed their verbal battles, although he was no longer interested in finding fault with her.
Reading the card she’d sent intensified the feeling of emptiness a hundredfold.
The amount of time he spent thinking about Tracy contradicted all his beliefs about personal discipline. He couldn’t stop thinking about her. He wondered if she’d taken his advice and broken off her relationship with that “sensitive” character she’d been dating. He wondered if she lay awake at nights remembering the kiss they’d shared. That woman really packed a wallop.
Unsure how to respond to Tracy’s card, Duke tucked it inside his locker. Because he needed to think, he wandered over to the Hard Luck Café for a cup of coffee.
Ben Hamilton was up and around a little more these days, and if Duke was lucky, he might find Ben alone. He wanted a chance to talk with him for a few minutes. Privately.
Ralph and Ted were sitting at the counter when Duke walked in. He hadn’t expected to find his fellow pilots lingering over coffee this late in the morning. It was quite obvious that they weren’t any happier to see him than he was to run into them.
“Duke, good to see you,” Ben greeted him. At least one person in Hard Luck hadn’t turned traitor. “How’s the arm?”
“Don’t ask,” Ralph advised the cook. “He’s liable to chew your head off.”
Duke didn’t take the bait. While it might be true that he’d been a bit short-tempered lately, he didn’t think his friends should hold it against him. He was a pilot, after all, and any pilot would react badly to being grounded.
“How about coffee and a cinnamon roll?” Ben invited.
“Sure thing,” Duke said, purposely sitting several seats down from the other men.
Ben brought over the coffee and pastry, and Duke glanced at the men he’d once considered his friends. In retrospect, though, he didn’t blame them. He had been in a foul mood since his release from the hospital. His inability to fly wasn’t their fault—and it wasn’t the only reason for his bad temper. If he was looking for something—or someone—to blame, it would be Tracy.
“I imagine you’re feeling…restless these days,” Ben said, leaning casually against the counter.
“Yeah, you could say Duke’s restless,” Ralph muttered, his elbows propped on the counter while he held his mug with both hands. His eyes seemed riveted straight ahead.
Duke’s jaw tightened. He and Ralph had argued just the other morning; Duke really couldn’t remember why. Over something trivial, no doubt.
He wasn’t accustomed to having this much free time. He’d thought he could work in the office during his convalescence, but all he seemed to do was get in the way. Mariah’s replacement had been trained, and everything was under control there. Sawyer took pity on him, now and then offering him some menial administrative task. On a good day he could count on killing an hour, maybe two, in the Midnight Sons office.
The rest of the time he was on his own. He’d read more books in the past couple of weeks than in the entire previous year. Television didn’t hold his attention; never had. So he’d been reduced to playing solitaire. He’d played for hours yesterday—then realized he was a card short.
That was what his argument with Ralph had been about, he recalled. Ralph had lent him the deck, and Duke had accused his friend of knowingly holding back that one card. Okay, so maybe he’d overreacted.
Duke remembered how Ralph and the other pilots had risked their own safety to search for his downed plane, and he felt an immediate surge of regret. Next time he was in Fairbanks, he’d pick up a new deck of cards for Ralph. No need to say anything; his friend would get the message.
“I hope this guy isn’t being too ornery, Ben,” Ted said as they paid their tab.
Again Duke held his tongue. He waited until the two pilots had left the café, then expelled his breath.
“So…you’ve been a bit out of sorts lately,” Ben said, grabbing the coffee pot. He pulled up a stool and sat on the opposite side of the counter.
“Maybe,” was all Duke would admit. “I’ve got too much time on my hands.”
“Know what you mean,” Ben said. “You’re talking to a man who’s spent the last month twiddling his thumbs. All I got to say is it’s no wonder our country has problems, with daytime TV as bad as it is.”
Even though Ben was half-serious, Duke couldn’t hel
p laughing. He was still chuckling when the door opened and Sawyer strolled inside.
“Howdy, Ben,” Sawyer said, sliding onto the stool beside Duke’s. “How’s it going, Duke?” He turned over his mug.
Although he would’ve preferred a few more minutes alone with Ben, Duke smiled. Shrugging, he said, “Oh, not bad, considering.”
“Where’s Mrs. McMurphy?” Sawyer asked next.
Duke had been wondering the same thing.
“She decided to organize the storeroom,” Ben explained, reaching for the coffee pot and filling Sawyer’s mug. “I’ve been meaning to do that myself, but I kept putting it off. I feel guilty letting her do it by herself, but she insisted. I did make her promise to call me if she had any problems.”
“Leave it to a woman to get a person organized,” Sawyer said, with a year’s worth of marriage behind him. “Abbey and I hadn’t been married a month before she emptied every closet in the house. She found a few things that turned out to be worth a pretty penny, too.”
“Like what?” Ben asked just as Christian entered the café.
“A couple of old baseball cards I had as a kid. I gave them to Scott for his birthday, and you’d think I’d handed the boy a piece of gold. He loved them.”
“Trust me, the only thing Mary’s going to find in that storeroom has long expired,” Ben said. He looked at Christian, who’d joined the other two men at the counter. “What’s Mariah up to these days?”
“Organizing,” he said with a wide grin, “what else? She’s getting the house set up, but that shouldn’t take long. Last I heard, she was talking to Matt and Karen about capitalizing on the tourist business.”
Duke sipped his coffee. Who would’ve believed women would have such a strong impact on the community? From the first, he’d known there’d be changes when they arrived, but he hadn’t been sure they’d be positive changes. Now he had to acknowledge that they were.
“I imagine you’re getting fidgety,” Sawyer said to Duke.
That had to be the understatement of the century. “A little.”
“Personally I don’t know what you’re hanging around Hard Luck for,” Ben said.
“He’s right,” Sawyer put in. “You’ve got plenty of sick leave, plus your vacation time. Why don’t you do some traveling?”
“Good plan,” Christian murmured as Ben poured his coffee.
“Any idea where I should take this vacation?” Duke asked.
“Yeah,” Sawyer said slowly.
“I have a suggestion,” Ben added.
“Me, too,” Christian said.
“Well, let’s hear it.”
“Seattle,” all three of them said at the same moment.
They stared at each other, then laughed uproariously. They were still laughing as Duke hurried out.
AS SHE SORTED through the mail, Tracy noticed there was nothing from Duke. By her best estimate, he’d received her greeting card a week earlier. In that time she hadn’t heard a thing from him. Tracy sighed; she’d been a fool to send the card. He’d made it plain when she left that he didn’t want anything more to do with her.
Determinedly she pulled her gaze away from her desk calendar. With a court case coming to trial—and jury selection that morning—she had far more important subjects to occupy her mind.
She checked her watch and realized she was due in court in less than twenty minutes. She was never late, especially for court.
Just as she was about to place her file in her briefcase, Gloria buzzed her on the office intercom. “There’s a call for you on line two.”
“I don’t have time for it now. I’ve got to get over to the courthouse,” she said. “Would you take a message, Gloria?” This case was an important one, and Tracy had thought long and hard about the best way to approach the jury.
“I’ll get Mr. Porter’s number and—”
Tracy dropped her file. “I’ll take the call,” she said. She closed her eyes and drew a deep breath before she reached for the receiver. “This is Tracy Santiago.”
“Hello, Tracy.”
He sounded wonderful, vibrant, healthy. Close. As if he was in the room next door, instead of several thousand miles north.
“Duke.” She kept her eyes fixed on the small Waterford crystal clock on the corner of her desk. “It’s so good to hear from you.” She knew she sounded thrilled; it didn’t matter. She couldn’t hide her feelings from him, and she wasn’t even going to try.
“I thought I’d call to thank you for the card.”
“My pleasure. Listen, Duke, I really am pleased to hear from you. I don’t want you to think I’m giving you the brush-off, but I have to be in court in a few minutes. If you’ll give me your phone number, I’ll call you back as soon as I’m free.”
He hesitated.
“Duke? Your phone number?”
“I’ve always been taught that the man should call the woman.”
She groaned out loud. “I don’t have time to debate protocol. Just give me your number.”
“I’ll call you. Now hurry up or you’ll be late.”
“Duke, you’re being unreasonable!”
He chuckled. “Give ’em hell, sweetheart.”
Before she could respond, the line went dead.
“Duke,” she cried in frustration. Weeks, she’d waited weeks to hear his voice, and now she still had to wait. And all because of some archaic rule he’d learned as a boy!
Well, she didn’t have time to worry about it now. Grabbing her briefcase, she hurried out the door. When she returned, though, she’d move heaven and earth to find that man’s number.
DUKE SAT ON THE BED in the fancy Seattle hotel room and sighed. He’d come a long way, and even now he wasn’t sure he’d done the right thing.
Oh, he’d found plenty of reasons to visit Seattle. None of which had anything to do with Tracy. But he wasn’t going to kid himself.
The purpose of this trip wasn’t to take a vacation. It wasn’t even to look over house plans or arrange for building materials to be shipped to Hard Luck. It didn’t have to do with the list of plane parts Sawyer had asked him to look into, either.
The reason he was sitting on a bed costing him a hundred and fifty bucks a night was Tracy Santiago. He’d come to see her because he hadn’t been able to stay away.
“Court,” Duke repeated. She was a career woman, he reminded himself. She wasn’t going to drop everything just because he was in town for a few days. She didn’t even know he was in town. He hadn’t gotten around to telling her he was in Seattle. She’d find out soon enough.
But he wasn’t staying long. Not at these prices.
He walked over to the desk and picked up the room-service menu. One glance assured him he’d prefer to dine out.
Tucking the room key securely in his pocket, he left the hotel and walked onto the street outside. More people occupied the sidewalk in this one square block of Seattle than walked through Hard Luck in a year.
All the activity made Duke nervous. He didn’t know how people could ever get used to this kind of racket. Cars, buses, horns and sirens…
The noise level didn’t improve as Duke walked downhill toward the Seattle waterfront and Pike Place Market. If anything, it got worse. Even Anchorage wasn’t this crowded.
Realizing he was hungry, Duke waited in line for ten minutes to order some fish and chips from one of the stands that dotted the piers. The deep-fried fish was tasty, and he enjoyed it so much he got back in line to buy a second order.
As he ate he gazed around him. The snow-capped mountaintops of the Olympics appeared in the distance. The scenery was very nice, he observed, but nothing he couldn’t see in his own state.
When he passed the aquarium, he decided to go in. It was well worth the fee, and he wandered around for an hour or so. He figured that should be enough time for Tracy to finish at court and be back in her office.
He pulled out her business card, located Fourth Avenue on his map and walked down the street until he came
to her building.
He stood across the street and counted the floors until he found the twenty-first. He wondered if she had an office with a window and suspected she did. She wasn’t a partner yet, but he didn’t doubt she’d become one in time. She was ambitious and dedicated.
He felt a sense of pride—and a kind of fear. Their lives, their careers, couldn’t possibly coexist. There was no common ground. Except…love? But love, no matter how strong, wasn’t enough to wipe out the differences. Damn, he wanted to see her, though.
The fact that he happened to spot her on the crowded Seattle sidewalk could be nothing less than fate. All at once she was on the other side of the street, walking at a clipped pace, presumably back from her lunch break. Checking his watch, he saw that it was almost one. She must be heading over to the courthouse. Her briefcase was in her hand and her steps were filled with purpose.
“Tracy,” he shouted, but she didn’t hear.
He tried again, running down the sidewalk.
She paused and glanced over her shoulder, not realizing he was on the other side of the street.
She looked good. Her hair bounced ever so slightly as she walked. He’d forgotten what a beautiful woman she was. He must have been blind earlier. Long shapely legs, a tiny waist and hips that—
He walked straight into a little old lady who glared at him as if she was sure she recognized his picture from a post-office “wanted” poster.
“I beg your pardon, ma’am.”
“You might look where you’re walking, young man,” she scolded.
“Please forgive me,” he said, but his gaze followed Tracy. She was going up a flight of steps into the King County Courthouse.
“Don’t let it happen again,” the woman said.
“I won’t,” Duke promised, sidling over to the curb. He looked both ways, then quickly jogged across the street. A horn blared a warning, which he ignored.
“Tracy!” He tried calling her again, hurrying into the building just as she stepped into an empty elevator. Because he had to walk through the metal detector, he missed it and was forced to wait. Not knowing which floor she was going to, he waited until her elevator stopped and noted it was the fifth.