Page 44 of Arctic Panda's Secret Mate
TRISTAN
Chef had thoughtfully reserved a portion of the stuffing for Tristan, baking it separately from the goose, and there was green bean casserole, six varieties of potatoes, roasted vegetables, dinner rolls, olives, deviled eggs, and a fresh green salad.
“The greens are not the best,” Chef said apologetically. “The market in Fairbanks had terribly sad options.”
Haisley looked like she might protest Chef’s statement, but Tristan beat her to it. “It’s hard to fault them for not having fresh lettuce in the dead of winter at the end of the supply chain,” he said mildly, putting a hand over Haisley’s.
“You are correct,” Chef said. “And the locally grown carrots are some of the tastiest I’ve ever had. There is something magic about the soil here!”
Mollified, Haisley added, “We have a short but rather amazing growing season in the summer. The midnight sun means things really take off. Dorothy grows zucchini the size of watermelon and we have delicious peas and beans. Nothing beats picking them off the vine for dinner.”
“I’ve heard about the squash they grow here. Hundreds of pounds apiece, I understand?”
“Two thousand one hundred and forty seven pounds is the current pumpkin record. You should come back for our fall fair,” Haisley suggested. “I’d love to show you the garden at the peak season.” Then she seemed to hear herself. “I mean, if I’m here.” The napkin in her lap suddenly became very interesting.
Breck made a crude joke at Graham’s expense to take the attention off of her flustered confusion and Tristan took her hand under the table.
The food and conversation flowed easily, and several bottles of wine from the sideboard were opened and shared around. Tristan felt like something in his life had taken shape. It wasn’t just finding Haisley that had drawn him to this place.
Everyone wanted to help clean up, so the work took almost no time, and it was easy to slip away with Haisley rather than going to the great room with everyone else.
“Tell me more about working here,” Tristan said, when they had made love again and were lying together on the bed.
“It’s very hurry-up-and-wait,” Haisley said, tracing patterns in the short hairs on his chest. “Mr. Barnum only lets the house as a whole unit, so it’s not always full, and when it is, it’s me and Dorothy doing all the housekeeping and cooking. Sometimes people pay extra for laundry service. We hire someone in to do repairs when things break, but sometimes it’s hard to find help when we need it. There was a guy who kept the grounds full time in the summer and cleared the drive in the winter when I first started, but he flaked out and we haven’t found a replacement. We hire a maid service if we have to turn the chaletaround the same day, but usually Dorothy and I can manage. What about you? What is your job like?”
“Shifting Sands Resort was destroyed about three years ago, so it’s still being rebuilt. The primary buildings are pretty much done, but there’s a lot of boring finish work to do, and there’s a kind of a company town that’s being put together now. Houses for everyone who works the resort, schools for their kids, that kind of thing.”
“It must be fun building from scratch.”
“Not really. Once you’ve built seven identical cottages, you kind of feel like the creative life is draining out of you. The first one was thrilling. The fourteenth, not so much. None of them have the kind ofbonesthis place has, and there’s nohistoryin them. Everything is brand new, right down to the foundations.”
Haisley propped herself up on one elbow and gazed down at him. “Are you trying to make up reasons for yourself not to stay at Shifting Sands? Because I appreciate that you want to figure out something that makes us both happy, but convincing yourself you don’t love something that you do is as bad as convincing yourself that you love something you don’t. No relationship would survive that kind of falsehood as a foundation.”
Tristan sat up with her. “I’m not trying to start anything with falsehood,” he promised her. “I think I’ve been trying to stay happy at Shifting Sands because I thought I should be. But maybe I’m cut out for snow, and not sand. Not just because you’re here, and I’d do anything—anything!—that made you happy, but because I find this place exhilarating. Maybe I don’t like my face hurting, but I do like the idea that I’m living in a place where living there means something. Surviving every day ought to be a triumph.”
Haisley giggled. “Are you sure you aren’t an ape, Tarzan? Beat your chest and tell me how tough you are.”
“Me, Tristan. You,tasty.” He leaned forward to wrestle her down on the bed and chew gently on her neck. That led to more kissing, even though Tristan was thoroughly sated by now.
“Whatarewe going to do?” Haisley asked, when the kissing finally slowed to pets and gentle caresses. “What happens next?”
“I don’t know,” Tristan said.
But he felt like a plan was starting to take shape.
39
HAISLEY
Haisley woke when the power flickered out, startled out of sleep by the battery backup under her desk chiming. She could hear water dripping from the eaves and wind gusting over the chalet. “I didn’t check the generator!”
“Oomph leh tallek,” Tristan said into her pillow.
Haisley remembered that he hadn’t gotten any sleep the night before, and she’d dragged him out on a death march in the snow that had just about frozen his toes off. He deserved his sleep. “I’ll take care of it,” she said, when the power didn’t come right back on.
Tristan snored slightly.
Haisley slipped out from under her covers and tucked the blanket back around him. She pulled on clothes, her parka, and her boots, then walked out the back door, to be needled in the face with rain. It was warmer than it had been the day before, as evidenced by the liquid precipitation, but it was still very cold. Haisley guessed that it was barely above freezing. She nearly slipped on the backstoop, then gritted her teeth and waded through the unshoveled snow to the generator shed.
