“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.

Chapter Two

 

May

I inhale deeply, reveling in the crisp ocean air as land approaches ahead. Chicago was in the seventies when I left this morning. Two layovers, a flight delay, and fifteen hours later, the fifty-five degree day’s high has dipped to low forties and I had to dig my winter jacket out of my suitcase.

“Have you ever been to Alaska before?” the captain, a soft-spoken white-haired man named John asks, his hands resting easily on the ferry’s wheel.

I shake my head, my gaze drifting over the sea of evergreen and rock as far as the eye can see. We left the dock in Homer thirty minutes ago. It didn’t seem like it would take that long to cross, but Kachemak Bay is vast and wide and unlike anything I’ve ever seen.

And on the other side of it is my home for the next four months.

I’m so glad I remembered to pop an Antivert an hour before boarding. I’d be puking over the rails by now had I not. Boats and I have never coexisted well.

“So, what made you come?” I can tell John likes to talk, as much for conversation as to assess the foreigners coming to his homeland.