He passed the twins’ room and grinned a little. His baby brothers were so cute. Gareth wasn’t sure it was normal to love his little brothers like he did, but he was grateful to them for existing because they had seemed to be the only thing that would get their mom out of bed there for a while. Maybe he should feel bad about that, like hate them instead because he hadn’t been able to get her up himself. But he didn’t. He had been sad after their dad died, too. He’d understood. It had been hard for him to get up sometimes.
He felt safe once he reached the room—the den. He wondered why it was called a den, because to him a den was where animals slept. But nobody ever slept in there—not anymore. His dad used to fall asleep watching football sometimes, but he’d never stayed there all night.
But the den was where Mom kept the stuff—her stash. But she didn’t hide it very well. Gareth had first found it a couple months after his dad died. He didn’t know what he’d been looking for when he’d found it. He hadn’t meant to snoop—not really. He’d just felt so alone—felt that way still—without his dad. He and his dad had been a unit, a team—“simpatico,” his Uncle Bering had called it. Gareth had looked up that word and it totally fit him and his dad.
Uncle Bering was cool, too. Uncle Bering had been what had gotten him out of bed after his dad died, but now he had a baby of his own and things were changing...
He froze for a second when he heard a sound. He exhaled a whoosh of breath as Crosby strolled into the room and let out one of his half meows. Gareth called it a half meow because Crosby opened his mouth really wide but only about half the sound you expected to hear would come out. The giant black-and-white cat had taken to “helping” Gareth in his quests. When he’d first started doing this he’d been afraid the sound of Crosby’s purr would wake his mom, but it didn’t. It didn’t even wake their dog, MacGyver, although he really wasn’t much of a watchdog anyway. But MacGyver slept with Mom and that was good because Gareth felt that the dog would be at least adequate in alarming him if anyone ever broke in and got to Mom’s room. Gareth thought about that kind of stuff because as the man of the house he had to be prepared for anything.
He stroked Crosby’s soft fur for a moment. Then he took the key out of his pocket and unlocked the cabinet, still without using the flashlight because he’d gotten good enough at this that he only needed the light when he got to the stuff...
“WHY DID HE hit your arm again?”
“I guess he was saving the stupid bee,” Janie told her friend and boss Laurel the next morning as she settled in behind her desk at the Rankins Press.
Janie felt herself getting worked up all over again. “I swear if Gareth would have been stung...”
Laurel winced. “Did you tell him Gareth is allergic?”
Janie shook her head. “No, I asked him to go away, but he wouldn’t listen. He’s not at all what you’d expect a brother of Emily’s to be like.”
Laurel sat at her desk, clacking away on the keyboard of her computer. “Wait—I thought you’ve met him?”
“I have—on the cruise two years ago, when Bering went to propose to Emily. I barely remember it, though. I remember thinking he looked a lot like Emily. Then I went to take a fourteen-hour nap in my cabin...” She trailed off with a helpless shrug.
Laurel glanced up long enough to give her a sympathetic smile. Everyone in Janie’s life remembered the dark days of her grief and postpartum.
“Oh, my gosh, you’re not going to believe this...” Laurel’s ability to talk, type and listen at the same time constantly astounded Janie and the other employees who worked for her at the Rankins Press.
Janie had begun working at the newspaper part-time about six years ago, when Gareth and Reagan were both in school all day. After Cal died, Laurel had hired her full-time. She’d done about every job at the paper, and now wrote local and human interest stories, and contributed articles to the newspaper’s regular feature, Insider’s Alaska. Nearly a year ago, she’d started writing her own weekly column—Domestic Endeavors.
“I don’t know,” Janie said skeptically. “There’s not much I wouldn’t believe at this point the way my life is going and I—”
Laurel let out a happy yelp. “Sorry—hold that thought. We got them. We got all of them—the tourism articles. This is fantastic... They accepted the entire proposal.” Laurel beamed a smile in her direction. “Janie, guess what this means? I need to call Emily. She’s going to freak.”
Finally, Janie thought, a bit of good news. Laurel had already told Janie she would be contributing to the series of articles about Alaska if the proposal Laurel and Emily submitted to the tourism website was accepted. North America Live was one of the most popular tourism websites in the entire world and they would now be posting three articles from the Rankins Press about Alaska.
“She is,” Janie agreed with a smile. She found herself getting caught up in Laurel’s excitement. She was happy for her friend. This newspaper was Laurel’s life. The regular column Laurel had started several years ago, Insider’s Alaska, showcased unique and interesting aspects about their state. The column had been receiving an increasing amount of attention in the last few years, so nobody would be surprised.
“I’ll sit down with Emily as soon as we can and plan the series. I’ll let you know what you’ll be working on. Isn’t this exciting? Global exposure, Janie—for the paper and for Rankins...”
Laurel held the phone up to her ear. “Em, hey! It’s me—amazing news...”
* * *
“AIDAN, PLEASE. I DISCUSSED this with Laurel this morning and she’s thrilled with the idea.”
Aidan had spent the day catching up with Emily, visiting with Bering and getting to know his baby niece, Violet. Now he stared at his sister and thought, poor Bering. His brother-in-law didn’t stand a chance against Emily’s charm, not to mention those gray-blue eyes of hers that glowed with such utter sincerity. Add this to Emily’s background, when she’d been a corporate executive for Cam-Field Oil & Mineral, and the result equaled unprecedented skills of persuasion. Aidan figured he could very possibly be the only person in the world who had the power to resist being suckered in by her.
“Nope. Won’t do it.”
“What? Why?
“Emily, you know why—I hate reporters.”
“Oh, Aidan.” She waved a hand dismissively through the air. “That’s a silly thing to say. It’s like when people say they hate the dentist. They don’t really hate the dentist—they don’t like having the work done.”
He eyed her skeptically from where he sat relaxing against the cushy softness of Emily’s new sofa, his beautiful niece dozing peacefully in his arms. “Yeah, I don’t really get the connection...”
“I mean it’s not personal.”
His distrust of reporters was in fact both professional and personal, but Emily didn’t know about the personal part. He’d never told her about Meredith. Emily knew he didn’t enjoy being in the spotlight, she knew he’d had a negative experience but she didn’t know the entire story. And she’d probably written off much of his hesitancy to his inherent lack of people skills. Of course, Aidan understood the point she was now attempting to make, but he would not cave no matter the circumstances.
“Emily, I came up here in part to avoid this kind of thing. I just want