Midnight Sons Volume 2 (28 page)

The folks in Hard Luck were getting to be experts at celebrating weddings, Ben Hamilton mused contentedly. He worked in the kitchen beside the school gymnasium, assembling hors
d’oeuvres for Bethany and Mitch. First there’d been a wedding and reception for Sawyer and Abbey, and almost directly afterward another one for Pete and Dotty. Come spring, there was Charles and Lanni’s, and now a reception for Bethany and Mitch.

His gaze followed the couple as they circulated among their guests. Pride filled him as he regarded Bethany—his daughter. The realization still took some getting used to. He actually had a daughter. One he’d never known about until she’d arrived in Hard Luck last year.

It saddened Ben to acknowledge that he hadn’t been there for either Bethany or her mother, Marilyn. Instead, he’d spent twenty-odd years in the United States Navy, first in Vietnam and later on in various ports around the world. When he’d retired ten years ago, only in his forties, he’d come here to Alaska and opened his café. He hadn’t married; his affair with Marilyn was a brief episode he’d never forgotten. One that, it turned out, had left him with a daughter.

And my, oh my, Bethany was pretty. Looking at her now with her husband and stepdaughter, Chrissie, Ben wondered how he could have produced such a charming, caring, lovely young woman.

With more than a touch of regret, he realized he hadn’t. Her mother and Peter Ross, the man who’d loved Marilyn, had raised Bethany;
they
were the ones responsible for the woman she’d become. His contribution to the effort had been strictly genetic. Still, he took a good deal of pleasure in his daughter—in the kind of person she was. It thrilled him no end that Bethany and Mitch had decided to continue living in Hard Luck. He hadn’t figured out what role he’d play in her life—that was up to Bethany—but he was grateful for the opportunity to know her.

“What are you doing in the kitchen?” Christian O’Halloran demanded. “You should be out there with everyone else, enjoying the party.”

Ben wasn’t comfortable outside of a kitchen. He found he related to folks far more easily when he had something to occupy his hands, when he had coffee to pour and food to serve. He’d never been one to mingle and mix at parties.

“I’ve got plenty to do right here,” he said. He had the hors d’oeuvre platters ready, plus the fruit and vegetable trays. Fine-looking trays, too, even if he did say so himself.

He’d spent a lot of time making sure everything was as appealing to the eye as it was to the palate. The fact that he’d borrowed a cookbook by Martha Stewart from the library was his and Abbey’s secret.

“But this is Bethany and Mitch’s reception,” Christian told him, as if he didn’t already know.

“Ben, what can I do to help?” Mariah Douglas stepped into the kitchen and stopped abruptly when she saw Christian O’Halloran. The two regarded each other like wary dogs.

Ben had never considered himself much of an expert when it came to dealing with women. He was a crusty old bachelor, set in his ways. Nevertheless, he liked to think he was a good judge of people. It seemed to him that Mariah Douglas was sweet on Christian—which was unfortunate, because the youngest O’Halloran brother avoided Mariah like a communicable disease.

“Hello, Christian,” she greeted him stiffly.

Considering that they worked together every day, it astonished Ben that Mariah was actually blushing.

“Mariah.” Christian nodded once, formally, and Ben noticed that he backed up several steps.

Mariah returned her attention to Ben. “Can I help?”

“I’ve already offered,” Christian said.

If Christian hoped those curt words would dismiss her, his plan failed. Ben decided it was time to intervene. “These trays could do with replacing, and that punch bowl needs to be refilled and set out on the table,” he said briskly. Someone had
brought the almost empty bowl into the kitchen. “Must be plenty of thirsty folks.”

Ignoring Christian, Mariah headed for the punch bowl.

Christian started to lift a tray, then hesitated when he saw Mariah. “Don’t do it like that.”

“Like what?” she snapped.

Ben didn’t blame her for using that tone. He wasn’t privy to what was going on between them, but he’d listened to Christian’s complaints about his inept secretary often enough to feel some sympathy for her.

“Don’t fill the punch bowl here,” Christian muttered as if that should have been obvious. “Did you stop to think how much easier it would be to carry the bowl to the table first and
then
mix the punch?” He gestured to the wine, soda water and fruit juice lined up on the counter.

“Yes, but—”

“Here, I’ll do that and you carry the trays out.”

“No,” Mariah insisted. “I said I’d take care of this. Stop worrying about me.”

Christian and Mariah reached for the punch bowl at the same time. Ben could see it coming even before it happened. As they tugged at opposite sides of the bowl, the bright red remains of the punch swirled around the bottom and upward in a wave—which slapped Christian’s white dress shirt and ran down the front of his pants. He gasped and leapt back.

“Christian!” Mariah cried with alarm. “Oh, no.”

“Now look what you’ve done!” Christian shouted.

“Me? You brought this on yourself!”

Ben was proud to see that Mariah had learned to hold her own against her employer. She didn’t even blink as he glared at her.

Christian’s eyes narrowed and he whirled around to leave the kitchen. “Tell Mitch and Bethany I’ll be back as soon as I’ve changed clothes,” he said to Ben.

The instant Christian was out the door, Mariah sagged against the counter.

“You all right?” Ben asked.

“I’m fine,” she muttered. “It’s just that Christian and I…Oh, never mind. I’m sorry, Ben.”

“No need to apologize to me.” He picked up the food tray himself and carried it out to the table, then stepped back to admire his work. He grinned, inordinately pleased with his efforts. It was a small thing, but he felt pride in being able to contribute to his daughter’s reception.

“Ben.” Bethany joined him. “I don’t know how Mitch and I can possibly thank you. Everything looks so beautiful.”

Ben decided he could live on those words and the happiness gleaming in her eyes for at least a week. “It’s nothing,” he said with a nonchalant shrug, as if he’d whipped up the entire display that morning. In actuality, he’d been planning and working on it for weeks.

“The food’s fabulous,” Bethany told him. “And I know what those grapes and watermelons cost. You’ve done such a beautiful job.” She stood on tiptoe to kiss his cheek.

“I wanted your party to be special,” he said, uneasy with emotion, even positive emotion. Damn, but he was proud of Bethany.

She’d chosen a good man in Mitch, too. Ben grinned. He was pretty gauche about this romance business, but he was well aware that Mitch’s daughter was responsible for bringing her father and Bethany—her teacher—together. Who knew an eight-year-old could be so smart? Ben was convinced he couldn’t have picked a better man for Bethany had he sought out a husband for her himself.

“Dad told me what you did,” Bethany said, slipping her arm around Ben’s waist. “Writing Mom and Dad that letter was really thoughtful.”

He shrugged again, making light of the single most difficult letter he’d ever written. “It was nothing.”

“Dad told me you thanked him for raising me so well. It wasn’t easy telling my folks I’d found you, and I think Dad might’ve been afraid that you’d replace him in my life.”

Ben had given that some consideration, too. Peter Ross deserved a lot of credit for marrying a young woman pregnant with another man’s child, and raising that baby to become such a beautiful, generous woman. Ben wanted to thank this man he’d never met, and at the same time reassure him that he had no intention of stealing his daughter away. Peter was her real father; he respected that. Ben felt it was time to clear the slate with Marilyn, too. He’d written his regrets to Bethany’s mother and asked her to forgive him for having left her to deal with the pregnancy alone.

“Dad said he’d be pleased to count you as a friend,” Bethany told him, eyes glistening with tears.

Ben already knew that. Peter’s letter had arrived two days before Bethany’s wedding, and Marilyn had also written him. He’d loved her, Ben realized; perhaps he still did. But he was content. She was happy and he’d discovered a woman who was not only his daughter but his comfort, his friend. Everything had worked out for the best.

“Are you going to dance with me?” Bethany asked, hugging him.

“Dance? Me?” Ben experienced a fleeting moment of panic. “Not on your life. That’s what you’ve got a husband for. Now let me go back to the kitchen before your guests get hungry.” He hurried back to where he felt most at home but turned to study his daughter one last time. His heart seemed to expand a bit as Bethany stepped onto the dance floor with Mitch.

Matt knew Karen was having a good time. He’d been relying on this wedding reception; the last time the people of Hard
Luck had gathered to celebrate a wedding was the night Karen had spent with him. Matt sincerely hoped that history was about to repeat itself.

He’d certainly been restraining himself with his ex-wife—he’d been as good as a choirboy. In three weeks he hadn’t even
tried
to kiss her, which was a real feat, considering how he felt about her.

Matt feared she was looking for an excuse to leave, something that would prove she’d be better off living elsewhere. True, her options were limited right now; nevertheless she did have some. For instance, he knew that her parents had invited her to move home if things became too uncomfortable. But Matt had decided he wasn’t giving Karen any reason to leave Hard Luck. He had five and a half months to prove himself. Five and a half very short months.

His hands-off policy was working, too; Matt could tell. She was much more relaxed with him. And almost against her will, she was beginning to appreciate life in Hard Luck. She’d become part of the community, made new friends. And having his sister in town had been more of an advantage than he’d anticipated. The two women got together at least twice a week. Karen had started helping with the reservations, gradually taking over from Lanni when Matt was away, and responding to queries left on the answering machine.

Because she wanted to keep busy, Karen was also volunteering two afternoons a week at the library. In a matter of days she was more familiar with the townsfolk than he was after living in Hard Luck for nearly a year.

Another thing that boded well was the interest she’d taken in the lodge itself. Without his saying a word, Karen had started adding those small feminine touches he’d hoped for.

Before he knew it, she’d draped a patchwork quilt over the back of the sofa. A vase of wildflowers magically appeared at
the registration desk. She’d even brought in some pieces of scrimshaw and jade figurines. One day, out of the blue, a hand-carved totem pole appeared over the fireplace; it looked perfect, as though it had always stood there. She never said where she’d got it or how much she’d paid. Now and again, he found her looking at it and smiling happily to herself.

Over dinner a couple of nights before, she’d offered him a suggestion—a good one too. She’d pointed out that the lodge was attracting tourists from all over North America, and in order to reach Hard Luck they had to fly over the Arctic Circle. Karen came up with the idea of having certificates printed for everyone who stayed at the lodge, making them official members of the Arctic Circle Club. Soon she was flipping through catalogs and making more suggestions. Like selling coffee mugs with the lodge’s name and logo. That was a good idea, he agreed, especially if people took them home and used them at the office. Nothing like free advertising.

He was encouraged by all these indications of her growing attachment to Hard Luck and the lodge. But the most promising sign so far was the difference in her attitude toward him. Even if their relationship was more comradely than romantic. Or perhaps because of that.

Okay, so he’d been out of line thinking they should sleep together right away. It was an innocent mistake. They weren’t exactly strangers; besides, she was pregnant with his child. He’d assumed…and he shouldn’t have. It was taking far longer than he’d expected for her sensibilities to right themselves.

Damn it all, Matt wanted her with him. His bed had never seemed so big…and so empty. Every night he lay on his back and stared at the ceiling, knowing the woman he loved, the woman pregnant with his child, slept in the room directly above him. If ever there was a guarantee of insomnia, Karen had provided it.

On a more positive note, everything else in his life seemed to be falling satisfactorily into place. With reservations coming in for the dogsledding tours, plus the business he’d managed to pick up this summer, there was a good possibility he’d break even. Well, perhaps not this year, but next year for sure. At the moment he was content just to meet his expenses. The lodge was an investment, and for the first time since he’d told Karen about it, she was beginning to see the promise.

He watched her now, laughing with her friends, hugging Bethany, wishing the young couple well, and Matt grew impatient. Dancing had started an hour ago, and he wanted her in his arms.