Alaska Heart (2 page)

“It’s a mystery, Meg.” I shrugged. I said I loved Meg. I didn’t say I always got her. “Okay, spill it.”

“Spill what?” Meg tossed her jet-black hair back. I should go on record as saying Meg was definitely the more attractive of the two of us. Men crossed crowded rooms all the time to stand next to Meg. She had that exotic beauty thing going with her sleek, dark hair, olive skin, and chocolate eyes. Besides that, she was a fitness nut, and her body showed it.

On the other hand, I was your average, 5’6” brunette. My hair was long and wavy, usually gathered in a loose ponytail to keep it out of the way. I had eyes someone once told me were the color of turquoise, but I think he was slightly drunk at the time. Anyway, I wasn’t hideous, but I didn’t sparkle either. Not like Meg.

“C’mon, Meg. You know I live my social life vicariously through yours.” I kept my eyes focused on the road. Mornings in New York City were a driver’s nightmare. Sometimes I thought about getting rid of my car and using the subway. Then I sat behind the steering wheel, the bucket seats hugging my backside, and I couldn’t do it. I loved my car. Loved being in control.

“You could get your own social life you know.” Meg rolled her eyes like she did every time she said I had to get out more, not work so much. Blah, blah, blah.

“I
could
get my own social life,” I said, “but you know how that always goes. Alanna meets man. Alanna likes man. Man soon becomes a giant pain in my ass. I just don’t have time for it.” Besides, letting someone into your personal circle was always risky.

Meg huffed, letting me know I was hopeless when it came to finding a man. Maybe she was right. Maybe I didn’t care.

Maybe I did.

“So his name is Matt,” Meg finally said. “He’s just adorable. Met him at the bookstore…”

Meg unraveled her tale while I drove us to work. I nodded and commented here and there, but my mind kept wandering to sled dogs.

****

The lime green sticky note stuck to my computer monitor caught my attention as it was intended to do. My boss, Evelynne Seaton, did everything in green. Her office was painted green, and all her furniture was green. She wore green in some shade every day. She edited copy in green ink. She left green sticky notes. She didn’t even have to sign her name.

“9:00, conference room,” this particular note read.

I dumped my bag on my desk, checked my mail, reorganized stacks of papers, and then was fresh out of delay tactics. I went in search of Evelynne. Better to get it over with.

“Hey.” Meg popped up from her cubicle as I passed by.

Okay. Evelynne could wait a few more minutes.

“Hey.” I leaned on the threshold of Meg’s cube. “You know what this is about?” I held up the sticky note.

“Nope,” Meg said. “Got one of my own though.” She waved a matching green square. “You late on something?”

I raised my eyebrows at Meg. How dare she? “Am I ever late?”

Meg shook her head. “No. You work way too hard. I only get these love notes when I’m slacking off.” She looked at her computer screen and sighed. “Probably be getting another one shortly for this.” Meg motioned to the screen and the mishmash of books and papers strewn across her desk. “It’s total crap.”

“I’m sure it’s not total crap.”

“Okay. It’s partial crap, and it’s going to be late partial crap.” She shrugged, then turned her gaze toward me. “You headed to the conference room now?”

I nodded. “You coming?”

“Neither one of us is going in there alone.” Meg pushed away from her desk.

When Evelynne’s secretary saw our lime green sticky notes, she waved us over.

“Go right on in, ladies.” Something in her eyes was electric with anticipation. As if she knew a secret and was excited to send us into the spider’s lair.

“Thanks, Becky.” Why was my throat dry?

When I opened the door to the conference room adjacent to Evelynne’s office, I almost didn’t see her at first. Her dress blended in with the walls so perfectly she was almost totally camouflaged. I was brown, too brown, to be in that room with her. Why hadn’t I made Meg go in first?

“Ah, Alanna.” Evelynne had a way of making words sound like cat purrs. “How are you today?”

Scared. “Fine, thanks. And you?”

“Good. Good. Have a seat. You too, Meg.” She waved to a pair of leather chairs in front of the huge conference table. Evelynne took a seat at the head and nodded to other writers as they trailed in. They all looked like frightened mice in front of a hungry cat.

“How’s the story on urban wildlife habitats going?” Evelynne glanced at me before donning a pair of hunter green reading glasses.

“I’ll probably have it finished by the end of the week,” I said. “I have a few more people to interview and a couple more photos to take.” My palms left wet marks on the thighs of my pants. I shifted my hands to the armrests of the chair, hoping my palms would dry.

“That sounds good.” Evelynne drummed her fingers on the edge of the table as if this small talk was in the way.

“What’s going on, Evelynne?” Meg said. Direct. To the point. Thank the Goddess for Meg.

Evelynne smiled, just a subtle upward twitch of her lips. She signaled to Becky to close the door, sealing us all in together. Becky then bustled around the table dropping sage-colored file folders in front of every writer. When she was done, she slipped out of the room, silent and ghostlike.

“I know you’re all wondering why I’ve gathered you here this morning,” Evelynne began. Somebody’s chair squeaked at the other end of the table, and all of our heads snapped to that direction. Somebody else poured water, the crystal pitcher clanking against the glass. Every noise made us jump. Tension in the room was at an all time high.

“A special challenge.” Evelynne raised her gray eyes to me first, then rested them on everyone else, one at a time. “It’s promotion time at
Gaia
.”

Promotion was the magic word. I’d worked for
Gaia
for six years. I was twenty-eight. Definitely time for the next level. I’d been working toward that level for a while. Every year at promotion time, I dreamed about making the cut, but Evelynne had her favorites, who had been working for her far longer than I had.

This was what I needed. Work was my life. It was all I wanted, all I had.

“Cover stories,” Evelynne said.

Someone whistled. Getting a shot at a cover story was big.

“With photos.”

My own pulse quickened as Meg’s hand clamped onto my forearm under the table.

“Huge office next to mine with a huge paycheck to go along with it.”

I squeezed Meg’s hand and didn’t even care that I was sweating all over hers.

“Promotion time gives me the chance to see who is merely working here and who is making
Gaia
their life.” Evelynne stood and glided around the room as she spoke. The fabric of her dress whispered as she moved. Her kiwi-scented perfume put us all in a trance.

“I’m going to do things a little differently this year.” She paused just behind me and rested her hands on the back of my chair.

Meg stiffened beside me.

“I want each of you to submit an article proposal—topic, brief description, preliminary outline. The top three will do their stories and battle it out for the promotion. How’s that sound?”

Evelynne walked back to her seat. As she sat, a stunned silence gathered strength in the conference room. No responses. No movement. Nothing. Just pairs of eyes directed toward Evelynne.

“Great,” she said, not worried in the least that her entire staff had gone mute. “Okay, get to it, dears. Proposals on my desk by Wednesday.” Evelynne clapped her hands, which caused us to flinch into action. Most of us left without uttering a word. A few conversed quietly, the exclamation points at the end of their words nearly visible. Meg nudged me out of my own musings, and we shuffled out to her cube.

“Ho-ly shit,” Meg finally said as she leaned against her desk.

“Wasn’t expecting that,” I said. The wheels in my mind turned, picking up pace as Evelynne’s announcement sank in.

“You’re totally going for it, aren’t you?” Meg kicked the tip of my shoe with her foot.

“Be stupid not to,” I said. “You’re going for it too, right?”

“Be stupid not to,” Meg repeated. “But I don’t have a shot.” She walked around her desk and sat. “I’m pretty sure Evelynne only keeps me around because she covets my shoe collection.” When I didn’t laugh, Meg snapped her fingers. “Hey, Earth to Alanna. That was a joke.”

“Right. Sorry. I was—”

“Already working on your story proposal,” Meg finished.

I nodded.

She shrugged. “Don’t let me get in the way. See you at lunch?”

“Yeah, lunch.” I’d already stepped out of her cube headed for my own. Ideas bounced around my head and gave birth to more ideas. By the time I sat at my computer, I had at least ten different notions that could work.

Only one kept surfacing, though, screaming out over the others. Only one just might be the winner.

“It’s a story on Denali. The Big Five. Moose, caribou, Dall sheep, wolves, and grizzlies.” I took a bite of my apple as I sat across from Meg in the cafeteria.

“It’s a great idea.” Meg played with the straw in her drink. “What made you think of Alaska?”

“Nothing.” I said it too quickly, and Meg narrowed her eyes at me. “Nothing. I’ve always wanted to visit Denali. Doing research on it would be the next best thing.”

Meg nodded, and I let out a breath. I hadn’t told her about sled-dog16. He was mine. Just mine. A secret.

“What are your ideas?” I asked, then took another chunk from my apple.

“I’ve only got one. I don’t even like it. Something about a NASA program that grows plants in space.”

For someone who had all the confidence in the world when it came to men, Meg was unsure of herself at work. She doubted every word she wrote.

“Sounds interesting,” I said. “Very futuristic.”

She shrugged and fiddled with a crust of bread on her tray.

“You’d better enter this little contest Evelynne’s got going,” I said, sensing Meg was thinking otherwise. “No opportunity wasted, right?”

“Right. I know you’re right.”

She was placating me. I could tell.

“Tonight why don’t we each draft up our proposals separately, then we’ll swap them tomorrow. Help each other out. No rules against doing that.”

This perked Meg up a bit. “Okay. Another good idea, Cormac.”

I patted myself on the back, and Meg laughed. She’d write the proposal even if only to make me happy. Probably wrong to manipulate our friendship like that, but I didn’t want Meg to let her fears get the best of her.

Like I was one to talk.

Shaking my head, I gathered my trash and stood. “I’ve got to finish my habitat story before I even consider writing a proposal. See you later.”

Meg saluted me, and I left her to bury myself in my cube. I worked for about two hours and then hopped online. Accessing my personal email account, I deleted the junk and, with an anxious glimpse around my cube, composed an email.

gaia-girl706:

Know anything about Denali?

I let out a little squeak when a new message dinged back right away.

sled-dog16:

I know everything about Denali. Why?

gaia-girl706:

Might be doing a story on it. Wanted the inside scoop. Interested in helping a gal out?

sled-dog16:

If the gal is you, yes. If not, forget it.

Why was it suddenly so warm in my cube? I peeled off my suit jacket and rolled up the sleeves of my blouse.

gaia-girl706:

The gal IS me, punk. Helping me could mean a big promotion. I’d really appreciate it. If you’re not too busy sleeping, of course.
☺

sled-dog16:

Never too busy for you. Besides I’m climbing the walls now that the race is over and I’m “resting.” I hate resting.

And I’m not a punk.

I laughed quietly in my cube, somehow feeling that sled-dog16 was right there with me and not clear across the country. Why was it so easy to talk and joke with him, a stranger? I didn’t even know what color his eyes were. It took little effort to imagine meeting him face-to-face though.

gaia-girl706:

Okay, because you’re going to help me, I’ll retract the punk statement. For now.

sled-dog16:

Who’s the punk now?

What do you want to know about Denali?

gaia-girl706:

I’ll send you a list of specific questions, but whatever you can think of would be awesome.

sled-dog16:

No prob. If you came up here, I could SHOW you Denali. Hint, hint.
☺
Nothing like seeing it in person.

gaia-girl706:

I’ll bet. Still, you could be a psycho, so we’ll stick to you answering my questions via email for now.

sled-dog16:

You could call me. You know, on the telephone. Wonderful invention. I can’t kill you over the phone. Totally safe.

Call him? Yikes. Curiosity did have me wondering what his voice, his laugh, would sound like. How would my name roll off his tongue?

“What are you thinking, Cormac?” I shook my head and tapped away on my keyboard.

gaia-girl706:

I could, but then I’d miss the excitement of opening my email and finding messages from you. Wouldn’t want to deprive myself.

sled-dog16:

Have it your way, wimp. I shall await your questions, O Big Important Magazine Writer.

gaia-girl706:

Thanks. Talk to you later, He Who Sleds with Dogs.

Reluctant to end the conversation, I closed my email and spent the rest of the day working on my urban habitat story. Technically, only half my brain was devoted to that story. The other half visualized seeing Denali with an Iditarod winner.

****

Nestled in the folds of my chocolate-colored, suede couch, garbed in my favorite sweatpants and T-shirt, I ate the salad and pizza I’d bought from Rita’s, a small Italian place one block from my apartment. Everything was right in the world when I had a slice of Rita’s cheese and pepperoni pizza in my hands. As right as it could be when you’re totally alone in your living room.