Mountains Apart (Mills & Boon Heartwarming) (9 page)

Laurel grinned at that and said, “I take it you're not exactly enamored of our quaint village yet?”

Emily didn't respond.

“You know...it's not as small as it seems.”

“What do you mean?”

“The town of Rankins seems small, but the outlying area contains a pretty healthy number of people. There are ten members on our town council for a reason. And unlike a lot of places, they listen to their constituents. With few exceptions, the vote will go the way of the people.”

That much Emily did know from the standard basic research Cam-Field staff had done prior to her arrival. It seemed Rankins was the hot spot for miles in any one direction.

“I've gathered that much,” Emily said.

Laurel nodded. “And even though the area is large geographically, Rankins is the only
town
supporting this entire area. That's why we have as many businesses as we do. We also have our own airport, post office and police department, and other entities that you would only find in larger cities. They might be small, but we have them. That makes us both self-sufficient and reliant on one another.”

Bering had relayed some of the same information, albeit in a less...academic tone.

“There is a surprising amount of diversity among the people, too. And people here—they just have their priorities straight, you know what I mean? I'm warning you, Emily, it will grow on you if you're not careful.”

“I can see what you mean,” she lied smoothly. In spite of her gradual thawing toward Bering, she felt no warmth toward the town.

Laurel grinned and Emily suspected she could see right through her. “You're certainly diplomatic, aren't you?”

“I have to be, to be successful at this job.”

“I get that. So before you do agree to an interview with me, I should warn you that I am even closer to the James family than most.”

“Oh?”

“I've known Bering James my entire life, and his sister, Janie, is one of my best friends. She actually works here part-time.”

Emily nodded, not having a clue where this conversation was now headed. “You went to school together?”

“Yes, we did. But it goes much deeper than that. Our families have been friends since our grandparents' days. We are tied together in complex ways. So I'm just going to offer one piece of advice, if that's okay?”

“Certainly,” she said.

“He's not as...simple as he appears.”

Emily thought that was an odd statement. She already knew Bering was about as far from simple as a man could get. She supposed she meant that he was educated like she was and more sophisticated than his provincial appearance. And the priority thing definitely seemed true where Bering was concerned. You couldn't have a conversation with him without him voicing his love and appreciation for his family.

“Bering is a good friend and a good man. His family has been wonderful to Piper and me. If it hadn't been for the James family, I would have lost her.”

“Lost her? What do you mean?”

“To shorten a very long story...I was only sixteen when our mom left us. We never knew our dad. The state wanted to put Piper in foster care, but some very strategic strings were pulled and I got to keep her. I'm not giving you a sob story, because it worked out great for us. I'm only telling you this because I don't want you to underestimate them.”

“But if you're that close to them, it seems like you would want me to underestimate them,” Emily countered.

“I won't lie—I considered that, but the simple truth is that I would like to see some development in this town. The fishing industry isn't what it used to be, and while I'm not entirely sure Cam-Field is the answer that we need, I am willing to hear your proposal before I decide one way or another.”

Emily considered her words. “Thank you, I appreciate that. I could really use the cooperation of the media. I certainly haven't gotten a lot of cooperation anywhere else.”

Laurel chuckled. “This is a town overflowing with community pride and cohesiveness. To anyone who has lived anywhere else, it might seem over-the-top, but to the people here it's a way of life.”

“I've seen a bit of that already.”

Laurel grinned knowingly. Then she leaned forward and cradled her chin in the palm of her hand. “Now, when do I get that interview?”

“You've got it,” Emily promised, “but not quite yet, if that's okay. Right now I'd like to submit a response letter to the one you published yesterday. I'm sure you can guess which one I'm referring to.” Emily handed it over and Laurel took it and read it quickly, going back, Emily noticed, to a couple key paragraphs.

She finally looked up and studied Emily carefully. “Are you sure about this?”

“I am.”

She tipped her head and smiled at Emily. “Maybe Bering and his coalition are the ones I should be warning.”

CHAPTER SEVEN

“‘A
ND
 
SO
I
ASK
 
YOU
,
Mr. James,'” Amanda read aloud from Emily's article in the next morning's paper, “‘just what exactly is it that you're afraid of? Is it the
scary
influx of much-needed money into the economy? Is it the
threatening
number of high-paying jobs that will help prevent the young people of Rankins from moving out of this community like they've been doing for the last decade at an ever-increasing rate? Or is it the
terrifying
fact that Rankins may get an updated hospital with state-of-the-art equipment and skilled doctors who know how to use such high-tech lifesaving machines?'”

She whistled through her teeth. “Wow. Okay. Em, this is really good.” Amanda had come over from next door to have coffee with Emily before they headed to work together. Now she walked into the kitchen to pour herself another cup. “This is definitely going to stir the pot, so to speak.”

Emily called the office and checked the messages. They'd been bombarded with calls from supporters, and she knew that when she checked the email it would undoubtedly be the same. There'd been quite a few in opposition also, but not nearly as many as she'd feared.

“Twenty-nine messages,” she said, pacing back and forth in front of Amanda, “eighteen in support, nine against and two incoherent, but which I'm pretty sure from the tone are against.”

Progress, she decided; it was definitely progress. And that was what she wanted. She should be happy, so why did she feel so fidgety and anxious?

“Emily, this is brilliant.” Amanda sat on the sofa and continued reading. “Seriously, this is some of your best work. I mean, pushing the tender buttons of patriotism, which, I've noticed, are running rampant here in Rankins?”

“You don't think that's overdoing it? Making it too political?”

“Absolutely not, and there are a surprising number of intellectuals in this community, and I think they're going to appreciate that you're not being condescending to them.”

Emily was silent.

“Emily,” Amanda said, obviously sensing her unease, “you just listened to the messages. You're already turning things around.”

“I know, and that's great, but...”

“This wouldn't have anything to do with Bering, would it?”

Emily sank down onto the sofa. “Is it that obvious?”

“Well, you did eat fish, Emily.”

“Do you think he's going to hate me now?” She covered her face with one hand and groaned. “Now I sound like a fifteen-year-old. What is wrong with me?”

Amanda took a second to laugh. “You didn't hate him after
his
article. He's not stupid. He had to be expecting some kind of rebuttal.”

And that was exactly it. Now Emily was going to be expecting something in return. The thought was both nerve-racking and kind of exciting at the same time. And how was she supposed to act now? The idea that they could carry on a friendship or whatever in the midst of this turmoil with Cam-Field suddenly seemed even more ridiculous than it already had. The ringing doorbell startled her out of her reverie.

Amanda jumped up. “I'll get it.” She opened the door to find an envelope sitting on the step. “I hope it's nothing gruesome,” she said. She bent and picked it up by one corner and carried it toward Emily. She stopped in front of the sofa and lifted it to her ear. “It's not ticking, so that's a good sign.”

She set it down on the coffee table in front of them. They stared at it for a few seconds and then, in unison, sat back on the soft cushions. Emily knew they were both thinking about the time they'd received the dead bird. While on a job in Oklahoma, some sicko had broken its neck, tied a noose around it and sent it to them as some kind of warning.

Emily picked up the envelope. She opened it and saw what looked like a brochure tucked inside. She pulled it out and began reading aloud, “‘Stop by and get the real story. Please join the Save Rankins Coalition at their free halibut fish-and-chips booth this Saturday at the winter festival. Information will be available about the true and terrible impact that Cam-Field Oil & Mineral will have on our town. A raffle to benefit our cause will also be held with prizes, including...'” Emily's voice trailed off and she turned toward Amanda, whose stunned look had to match her own.

“What the...?”

Emily shifted the paper and saw that there was a handwritten note: “‘Emily, please stop by and I'll treat you to some more halibut, unless of course hot dogs are more your thing? Hope to see you there, Bering.'”

“Amanda, you didn't say anything to Tag about our hot-dog booth, right?”

“Emily, no, absolutely not. I only made calls to Glacier City. I arranged for everything to be delivered early Saturday morning, so it's not even like someone could have seen something...”

For the first time since this battle had begun, Emily felt her temper stir in earnest. How in the world had he discovered this? She was going to look like an idiot passing out hot dogs next to his fish-and-chips. She tamped down her angst and tried to think. It was very well played; she had to give him that. Except for this little dose of braggadocio that he hadn't been able to resist... Because, as Franklin had taught her, and any good general knew, you never revealed your battle strategy before the battle was fought.

* * *

T
HE
 
DAY
 
OF
 
THE
 
FESTIVAL
turned out to be a stunning display of winter—cold but clear and sunny. And as Bering strolled down the street that headed toward the waterfront, he took his time enjoying the view. A fresh skiff of snow blanketed the landscape and made the blue of the sky even more vibrant than usual.

The winter festival was an annual event that had started a few years back by a group of local businesses, clubs and artisans. Vendors sold food, local crafts and artwork, and merchants offered free samples or handed out information advertising their products or services. The event had grown tremendously the past few years due to the ice-carving competition, which had begun to increase in popularity and now drew people from all over the state. This year was looking to be the best turnout ever. It was a great way to bring in some revenue during the winter, which was traditionally a slower time for Rankins.

Vendors had been setting up since early that morning, and as Bering neared the spot where he knew Cam-Field's booth was supposed to be, he was surprised to see no activity there. There was a trailer in its place, so he figured someone must be busy in there boiling hot dogs.

He grinned as he thought about how he'd managed this coup. His cousin Shay, who ran the Faraway Inn, had called him a couple days ago. She was going to be operating a booth promoting both the Faraway Inn and Bering's guide business. They'd been chatting about it and she'd mentioned that her friend Susan, who was a teacher at the high school, was helping with the booth for the PTA. They'd planned on selling hot dogs to raise money but were thinking of changing to donuts because they were having a hard time finding enough buns. Shay had called her supplier in Glacier City, who was also the supplier for both the Cozy Caribou and Top Rock Café in town. Nobody, it seemed, could get hot-dog buns until Monday or Tuesday—after the festival.

Shay had thought that was odd and had mentioned it to her friend Darlene, who was in charge of the placement of the booths at the fair, where she'd learned exactly who had purchased every hot-dog bun in Glacier City.

Bering admired Emily's creativity. He had to admit it was a good idea to insert herself into the community in this way—and with free food no less. He and Shay had quickly called a meeting of the Save Rankins Coalition. Shay had reserved a spot for their use and drawn up the brochure. Then members of the coalition had begun distributing them around town. It was perfect—who would want to eat a hot dog when they could have fish-and-chips? But even better than that, it would look as if Emily had stolen the free-food idea from them.

He hadn't been able to help himself—he'd just had to send Emily a brochure. Bering imagined how annoyed she must have been when she'd opened the envelope and read his invitation. He nearly laughed aloud at the thought. But how upset could she get? She was the one who had assured him of her professionalism.

He loved this town. In spite of the fact that people often knew your business (or thought they did) and the rumor mill ground strong, it was worth it. And, as proven by today's victory, often those close connections came in quite handy.

The ice carvers had already started, so Bering slowly wound his way toward the water's edge, where they had set up that morning. He figured that was why there was such a crowd down there already. But as he neared the location, he could see that a throng of people were gathered around something else. It looked like...flames?

A fire pit?

He glimpsed a female figure bustling around the tables that had been placed around its perimeter. Emily? What was she doing? Serving something...but it didn't look like hot dogs, unless she was serving them out of cups. As he continued studying the scene, the crowd parted enough for him to spot a brightly painted banner that read Brats and Brew Courtesy of Cam-Field Oil & Mineral.

All he could do was gape as he took in the scene: cozy-looking flames burning in a huge rock-encased fire pit, delectable smells wafting from its direction, people crowded around talking and laughing, eating and drinking, courtesy of Cam-Field. And with a smiling and charming and witty Emily mingling with them all.

He heard a rustle and looked down to see that his cousin Shay was standing beside him. She crossed her arms over her chest and didn't say a word. They watched in silence for a few moments.

“Free beer?” Bering finally asked. “She's giving away free beer?”

“No. Not free beer, Bering—free Grizzly Quake microbrew. You know how long the line was to get into Grizzly Quake Pub the last time I was in Glacier City?” She quickly answered her own question, “Three hours. And now here it is, right here in Rankins—and free no less. And bratwurst from Cowen and Co.—your choice of moose, caribou or good old-fashioned pork. They come already cooked but you can get them served with these cool metal roasting sticks—made by Kella Jakobs.”

Bering knew Kella Jakobs. She was a local artist who specialized in metal sculpture. Her work was in very high demand. He owned some of her pieces himself. He imagined that by the look of things, she was probably doing a booming business at her booth today.

Shay continued, “So you can
crisp
your dog if you want to—over the fire pit. The roasting sticks are for sale if you want to keep one, which everyone does, so they can roast their giant-size handmade marshmallows, too. That's what's in those bins over there.” She pointed toward yet another crowd off to one side.

Bering looked over but didn't say a word.

“We've been beaten at our own game, Bering.”

“I see that, Shay.”

“How did they put this together so quickly?”

Bering had to hand it to Emily. He never would have believed she could counter this well and so quickly. Not only was she obviously resourceful, she was also extremely creative—and downright industrious. And he had to own the fact that it was due partly to his own mistake, too. He'd underestimated his opponent yet again and tipped his hand. He should never have sent her that invitation....But how could he possibly have imagined that she would throw this...this...neighborhood bonfire party in response?

Bering glanced down at Shay. “How are we doing with the fish-and-chips?”

“Pfft,” she scoffed. She pointed at the ground. “I'm standing here, aren't I? I told two of the girls they could go home already. I caught Tag eating over here about an hour ago, and when I asked him what he thought he was doing, he said that he can have fish-and-chips anytime he wants at the Caribou, but Cowen's moose brats he can only get in Glacier City.”

Bering shook his head, his appreciation for Emily's ingenious scheme growing by the second. “Not to mention the Grizzly Quake...”

“Oh, yeah, the first one is free, then you have to pay. But you should see the cool souvenir pub glass it comes in. I was thinking of buying one myself.”

“What are people saying about Cam-Field?”

“They're not saying
anything
, Bering. That's the problem. What are we going to do?”

Bering's gaze landed on Emily once again. She looked cold, he thought, as he watched her clench the collar of her jacket tightly together with one hand. She looked up then and their gazes collided. Hers held an unmistakable look of triumph. He tipped his head in acknowledgment and hoped his expression didn't make him out to be a sore loser.

Then she held up a beer. Was that a toast or an invitation? He immediately decided to accept defeat gracefully and take it as the latter.

Bering shrugged a shoulder and answered Shay, “Go have a beer, I guess.”

* * *

I
T
 
WAS
 
SOON
 
CLEAR
 
to Emily that Bering wasn't going to let one defeat, no matter how crushing, decide the war. The Save Rankins Coalition countered with a rally, which Emily had to admit scored him a moderate victory. They marched from one end of town to the other with signs and banners. They handed out anti-Cam-Field literature. They picketed the mayor's office, the homes of the town-council members and, for some reason she didn't quite understand—Emily's office.

She had hot chocolate and coffee from The Top Rock Café and baked goods from the Donut Den delivered to the entire crowd. That quieted their chants of “Cam-Field can't!” and “We don't need your corporate greed!” only long enough for the crowd to scarf down a few maple bars and apple fritters.