Page 69 of Her Wild Coast Refuge

“The Pearl Salon. Five stars according to GOOP.”

“What’s goop?”

She sighs. “Update.”

I set down my drink. “You already know about the marine barge contract with the port of Alderbrook.”

“Love that you found a Native American contractor. That is going to be great for PR.”

I hope, for her sake, she actually takes the time to understand the complexity of the people in Alaska. “For energy, we’re going with natural gas. A pipeline from Roaring Fork. That’s eighteen months.”

“Dawson,” Brielle warns.

“You want your energy source to last the life of the mine or do you want to repair it every five years for twelve million bucks?”

Her lips tighten. “Fine. Next?”

“Fiber optics is five months, but broken up because of winter.”

She flips the edge of her robe to cover the gap at her knees. “When do we break ground?”

I ignore her use of the plural, because she’ll be running Hemery Tate solo as soon as I sign this deal. “Nineteen months.”

She gives an exaggerated huff. “That’s eons. I promised my contact we’d be producing by next August.”

I swallow my frustration. “Do you need a refresher in mine operation, because this is actually a pretty incredible timeline, considering this is Alaska, where the ground freezes for four months of the year and blizzards last for weeks.”

“We streamlined that project in Chile, didn’t we?”

Outside on the deck, the birds have returned, the drizzle beading up on their delicate black feathers. “Because of an existing a power source and decent roads.”

“What about Western Australia? We had gold pouring out of that pit in sixteen months.”

“Little different weather situation in Australia.”

“I don’t need to remind you what’s at stake here, right?”

I close my eyes for an instant. “No.”

“Good. So you’re ready to sign?”

I exhale a slow breath. The memory of cradling that King in my hands and the earnest look in Lexie’s eyes returns. I smell the cool, mineral scent of the river, the cold current swishing past my shins.She’s on her way home. You want to send her off?

“Dawson,” Brielle barks.

“Why is this project so important to you?” I ask, pretending I wasn’t just on another planet.

She snorts. “It’s important to you too, last I checked.”

I don’t remind her that I take no joy in this work. Even though Hemery Tate has the highest environmental standards in the industry, that I’m responsible for giant holes in the ground and dams and toxic byproducts like arsenic and mercury left to simmer in the sun aren’t easy pills to swallow.

“It’s more than just money, isn’t it?”

Brielle fusses with the collar of her robe. “There’s a group of investors, all right? People who want to curb our dependency on China for molybdenum.”

Most molybdenum—molly—comes from a region in China the size of Maine. Because they currently control the market, they also control the price. “Who are these investors?”

“Who’s getting curious now?”

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