Return to the Beach House (17 page)

She became a pilot, first in Fairbanks and then in Anchorage, making her living taking fishermen to camps that were inaccessible by road or boat, and photographers to even more remote locations. A few years later, with the help of an unexpected inheritance from her grandmother, she bought a fishing service company.

Carrie heard a squeal and looked up to see Angie maneuvering her way through a stream of passengers, a suitcase held together with silver tape wobbling off balance behind her. Carrie hardly recognized Angie the way she was dressed—in a navy blue jacket, matching slacks, and a bright yellow silk shirt. What happened to the plaid shirts, jeans, and lace-up boots?

Carrie braced herself to keep from being knocked over by Angie’s wildly enthusiastic hug.

“Oh, my, God,” Angie said, holding Carrie at arm’s length. “You look fantastic. Nowhere
near
forty,” she added with a teasing grin.

“You do too,” Carrie said, meaning it for the first time in a long time. “I like your hair.” It was short and curly and provided a perfect frame for Angie’s narrow face.

Angie gave Carrie another hug before wheeling her suitcase next to the empty chair Carrie had saved for her. “I have to use the bathroom. Do you know where it is?”

Carrie pointed toward the sign.

“Be right back.”

“Do you want a coffee?”

“Decaffeinated green tea, if they have it. If they don’t, just get me a water.”

“
Decaffeinated
green tea. What in the hell is that?”

Angie laughed. “It’s something I’m learning to like. I brought my own in case I couldn’t find any here.”

Surprisingly, not only did Starbucks have it, but the barista acted as if it was their best seller.

Angie came back and reached for her wallet.

Carrie held up her hand to stop her. “My treat.”

“My turn next time.” Angie sat and put her feet up on her suitcase, showing off a pair of flats. Angie saw Carrie staring. “Cute, huh? I had a six-hour layover in Seattle, so I did a little shopping. There are times I miss wearing nice clothes.”

“The earrings aren’t bad either.” The diamond studs were easily a carat each and so unlike Angie that Carrie found it hard to believe they were real.

Angie reached up to touch one before bringing her hair forward to hide it. “They’re the main reason I had my hair cut.”

“So you could hide them?” Now here was the Angie that Carrie knew.

“They were a gift, impossible to return, stupid to toss in with my junk jewelry, so what choice do I have but to wear them?” She reached up and touched the other stud. “Actually, at times, I forget I have them on.”

“That’s quite a gift. Must be a special guy.”

“He is. But it’s not what you think. It’s a thank-you from a fisherman who had a heart attack two hundred miles from the nearest hospital. We were in the middle of a series of nasty storms that made picking him up a little dicey, and I was the only one willing to try. He’s convinced I saved his life. His wife sent me the earrings a week after he got home.”

“Obviously he lived.”

“Surprisingly. He was in pretty bad shape. But he’s a stubborn old goat—who just happens to own half the high-rise buildings in Toronto.”

“Other than you demonstrating a complete lack of regard for your own life, how’s the flying business going?”

Angie took a long drink of tea before answering. “Unbelievable. We’re about to open a satellite office in Fairbanks. I stuck my neck out—way out—to take advantage of a deal someone offered me on three cargo planes, which are scheduled to be delivered by the end of the month. We already have five new pilots hired and contracts for hauling that will take us through the winter. Now we just need to get the office set up and operating and we’ll be good to go.

“As far as the operation in Anchorage, the flightseeing and fishing-lodge businesses have grown twenty percent in the past four years. Seems the people who could afford to come north before the recession still can. Only now they’re bringing friends.”

“Wait a minute,” Carrie said. “Did I hear you right when you said ‘we’?”

Angie shook her head. “I should have known you’d pick up on that.”

“So spill.”

“If I tell you now, you’re just going to have to hear it all over again when we get to the house. Tell me about Chicago. Still love living in the Windy City?”

“I can’t imagine being anywhere else. Dealing with the snow gets to be a little much around March, but then spring arrives and all is forgiven.”

“I’ve decided I’m going to try to talk all of you into coming to Anchorage for our next reunion. I want to show you why I fell in love with Alaska.”

“All those mosquitoes and outhouses—no thanks. If I’m going on a vacation, I want it to be someplace with a beach and beautiful, sexy waiters.”

“I don’t want to step all over your stereotypes, but I happen to have indoor plumbing. And I have triple-pane windows that look out to see beluga whales in Turnagain Arm. On the opposite side of the house, I get to wave good-morning to my resident moose and her baby.”

“What about the grizzly bears?”

“
Brown
bears,” Angie said. “When you come north, it’s important that you sound like a local.”

“Have you ever had a ‘brown’ bear try to break in through your triple-panes?”

Angie swirled the remaining tea in her cup, looked at Carrie, and grinned. “Personally, I think they’re a lot less dangerous than the men who hand out beach towels at resorts.”

Carrie glanced at the clock over the arrival board. “Time to go.” She stood and shouldered her computer bag, then gave in to the spontaneous urge to hug Angie again. “Why is it I have no idea how much I miss you until I see you?”

Angie’s eyes lit up as she returned the hug. “I know. Me too.”

Bridget and Danielle and Angie were the sisters Carrie had never had but desperately wanted when she was growing up. They’d stood by her through heartbreak, without knowing how or why or who had caused the pain, and through bosses who expected more than she was willing to give. They gave advice when she asked and never had their feelings hurt when she didn’t listen.

She’d been the one who had made it impossible for them to get together the year before, putting up roadblocks for every solution. They were forgiving and understanding. She was going to need every ounce of both now that she’d finally decided it was time to tell them the real reason she had been such a pain in the ass about so many things for such a long time.

Chapter 3

Danielle searched the drawers for a corkscrew in the surprisingly state-of-the-art kitchen. When they’d arrived at the beach house, she’d been instantly charmed by everything from the rustic appearance on the outside to the attention to detail on the inside. She especially loved the English gardens filled to overflowing with a rainbow of blooms. The walkways through the garden and around the house were moss-covered brick, the garden gate a whimsical wrought-iron creation more art than function.

The house was bright and comfortable, with orchids in every room. The furniture, something between modern and antique, featured an overstuffed sofa and armchairs that encouraged lounging. The ocean view through the sliding-glass door provided the perfect background. Danielle could easily imagine herself curled up with her thoughts and a cup of coffee with the accompanying music of gulls singing soprano and the waves a steady baritone.

She loved Denver—the mountains, the plains, the skiing, the Broncos, the Nuggets. But she could easily be seduced into a summer affair with this place. The coast drive that she and Bridget had taken before heading for the airport to pick up Carrie and Angie had been beautiful.

Carrie, looking as stylish in shorts and T-shirt as she had in her Chicago business suit, held up an Ah-So cork puller. “Is this what you’re looking for?”

“Well, no,” Danielle said. “But it will do.” Struggling with the tines, she added, “We open bottles the old-fashioned way in Denver.”

“Let me,” Carrie said, reaching for the bottle. “I had two and a half dates a while back with someone who was a self-proclaimed wine expert. Supposedly this is the only way anyone who knows anything about wine would take out a cork.”

She slipped the two thin metal prongs between the cork and the neck of the bottle, gave the handle a twist, and brought out the intact cork. “And there you have it,” she said.

Danielle lined up four large-bowled wineglasses while Angie added crackers to the cheese and fruit plate. When Danielle started to pour, Angie held up her hand, “None for me.”

Danielle stopped and studied her for several long seconds, her eyes narrowed in thought. Finally, she announced, “You’re pregnant?”

Angie let out an exasperated sigh. “
That
gave me away?”

An immediate chorus of shouts and laughter, gasps and whoops filled the kitchen.

“How did you really know?” Angie asked.

Danielle hugged her a second time while her emotions ricocheted between joy and jealousy. “The only time I’ve seen you turn down a glass of wine was when you were driving, and you’re not going anywhere tonight. Hell, I’ve seen you drink wine in the shower. That leaves only one other thing that could get you to turn down a bottle of”—she held the bottle to read the label—“Kapcsandy Grand Vin Cabernet Sauvignon.”

“There’s always cirrhosis,” Angie suggested, grinning as she tugged on an earring.

“Not for another decade. And now, maybe never.” Danielle put the bottle on the counter and stepped out of the way for Bridget to give Angie another hug.

“That’s fantastic news.” Bridget leaned back and looked at her. “It is, isn’t it?”

Angie laughed. “Yes.”

Carrie put her hands on Bridget’s shoulders and gently moved her out of the way. “My turn.”

She held Angie tight, rocking her back and forth. “I’m so, so happy for you.” Then she held her at arm’s length and stared deeply into her eyes. “I’m assuming this wasn’t an immaculate conception? Do we get to hear about the father?”

“Was he the one who gave you those ostentatious rocks on your earlobes?” asked Danielle.

“Time for that later,” Bridget said, the tail of her new blue-and-yellow Hermes scarf artfully draped across her shoulder. She came forward and kissed Angie on one cheek and then the other. Soon they were all crying tears of joy.

“Thank you,” Bridget said, wiping her tears with her hands and then her hands on her too-big shorts.

“For what?” Angie answered, honestly confused.

“For making us aunts. I’ve always wanted to be an aunt, but it’s really hard when you don’t have any brothers or sisters.”

The tears turned to laughter again. And then another group hug. The hug didn’t end until Danielle said she had to either break free to get a tissue or wipe her nose on Carrie’s sleeve.

Chapter 4

“No gossiping without me,” Carrie yelled from the back bedroom, where she’d gone to get a sweater.

Danielle added warmed Brie to the platter, then topped it with a mound of fig jam. “It took us a year to get Miss Chicago out here, and now look at her. She’s acting like a mother hen tucking her chicks under her wing.”

“Have you ever noticed how many of us wound up in cities that start with the first letter of our names?” Angie took plates out of the cupboard and added napkins from a tray on the counter.

“I can’t say that’s something I’ve spent a lot of time thinking about,” Danielle said.

“It’s just kinda strange, don’t you think? I’m from Anchorage, Carrie is from Chicago, you’re from Denver . . .”

“And Bridget is from Sacramento.”

“But my middle name is Sarah,” Bridget said. “That should count for something. Did I ever tell you what Miles called us?”

“I’m not sure I want to hear this,” Danielle said.

“The Alphabet Girls.”

The statement was met with loud groans.

Bridget laughed. “Don’t worry, it wasn’t said with affection.”

Danielle balanced the two cheese trays with one hand, utensils and napkins with the other, and headed outside. Not knowing Angie was pregnant, they’d bought a large wheel of Brie at the gourmet grocery store where they picked up supplies that morning. Angie said she couldn’t eat it, but as long as they kept the cheeses separate, it wouldn’t be a problem.