All That You Are Read online

  A few days later, she brought him to meet her parents.

  Dana’s father hadn’t thought too much of Cooper’s potential, and neither had her older brother, Terrance—who’d been her idol since she’d been a toddler and able to stand and look up to him. Terrance said Cooper rubbed him the wrong way, claiming Cooper didn’t readily look him in the eyes when they had a conversation. He said an honest man would have nothing to hide.

  Rare were the times when Dana disregarded her brother’s advice, but that had been one of them. She caught herself making excuses for Cooper, telling her brother he needed to extend himself more and get to know Cooper better.

  Maybe she felt that way because it had taken Cooper so long to ask her out. So he had a few shortcomings. Who didn’t? He was easy to talk to, he always picked up the tab and the physical attraction was too hot to deny.

  In the end, Terrance’s final word had been she’d have to learn from her own mistakes. After all, at twenty-two, she lived on her own and took care of herself in her own apartment.

  Dana’s mom, Suni, had been reserved in her opinions about Cooper. A cultural thing perhaps, but since Terran’s birth, her reticence had all but vanished in a vapor. Now she had plenty to say about Cooper.

  Leaning forward to kiss Terran’s sweet-boy cheek, Dana let memories from the past slip away. Things that had happened six years ago shouldn’t be dwelt upon. She only had one sinking regret; it caused a dull heartache that sometimes consumed her. Her father and brother weren’t here to watch Terran grow up.

  They would have been so proud of him. Even of her, and the woman she’d turned into.

  As Dana rose from the twin bed, fatigue overtook her. Even after so many years as the owner, the late hours she put in at the Blue Note still felt foreign to her. There were moments when she longed to call it quits by nine o’clock and be home to put Terran to bed herself. She savored Sunday when the bar was closed. And she looked forward to Tuesday and Thursday nights when her trusted employee, Leo Sanchez, took over her duties and she had a couple of blessed nights at home.

  Tonight was not such a night.

  The hour had to be somewhere around two-thirty. Walking to her bedroom, she paused, then took the stairs to the kitchen. She knew from experience it was impossible for her to come home, crawl into bed and fall instantly asleep. She had to decompress and unwind, look through the mail, make out a grocery list, mindlessly click through the television stations. After today, she might even eat a Twinkie.

  Quietly heading into the kitchen, she flipped on a light, then stood bleary-eyed in front of the open cupboard. No Twinkies. No Ding Dongs. Not even a homemade cookie. Just Goldfish crackers. Not her usual choice, but she was hungry and decided to plunge into the box of processed cheese and sodium.

  Today had been very, very long. Made longer by the two fish-brains belting each other this evening.

  Sometimes she wanted to walk out of the Blue Note and never go back…but she couldn’t do that to her father. Never. Ever. He counted on her, even in death. She felt it. She knew it was what he’d want. And a part of her, the part she kept hidden from everyone, even her mother, was a part of her that was afraid to let go.

  “I didn’t know you liked Goldfish.”

  Dana turned to find her mom standing in the kitchen doorway wearing a flannel housecoat and squinting against the bright light. Her inky-black hair brushed her narrow shoulders.

  “I don’t,” Dana replied, digging back into the bag. “We don’t have anything else to munch on.”

  “There’s fruit in the fridge. Apple slices. Terran had some with his dinner.”

  “I’m not in the mood for fruit.”

  Suni reached around her for the peanut butter jar. “You don’t eat enough fruits and vegetables.”

  Had Dana not counted on her mother in a hundred different ways, she may have made a retort. But she kept her comments to herself. If it hadn’t been for her mother helping with Terran, she’d be lost.

  Her mom whipped up two peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, then poured two icy-cold glasses of milk. “Sit down, Dana. You look ready to drop.”

  “I’m so tired.” She sank into the chair, grateful to be off her feet. “A pair of mainlanders broke two glasses and a beer pitcher and spilled hot wings all over my floor.”

  And a guy called me sweetart, as if I were a piece of candy.

  Dana’s thoughts hadn’t dwelled on the man who’d said it, but now she let herself recall the sound of his voice. Deep and husky, a dose of sarcasm mixed into his words. He was good-looking and he knew it.

  Quiet resistance fell over Suni’s face. A long moment passed and she said nothing, as if biting her tongue. Then, the inevitable question: “When are you going to sell the Blue Note?”

  Dana didn’t respond. “You don’t have to get up every night to check on me when I get home, Mom. I’m okay.”

  “You’re not okay.”

  Refusing to have the same discussion over and over with her mother had gotten easier. Dana had her own tactics in their verbal warfare. In a way that usually worked, she steered the conversation in a different direction.

  “The bears haven’t gotten into our garbage cans lately. It’s a pain to keep the trash on the service porch, but at least it saves us from cleaning tipped-over cans on the front lawn.”

  “I’m grateful for that. Nothing worse than smelly trash in the grass.” Suni put the peanut butter and bread away. “Come to bed, Dana.”

  “I will.”

  A single light on a side table remained switched on downstairs as they climbed the steps. When Terran had begun walking, Dana feared that he’d somehow get up from his bed at night and fall down the stairs. She started leaving a light on, just in case he woke and ended up on the landing. For a time she’d used a baby-gate, but he figured out how to open it, and the restraint was all but worthless.

  No longer worrying about Terran and stairs, Dana still kept the lamp on for comfort and no other reason. The milky glow helped make the home feel guarded downstairs.

  Dana had few fears, but being home alone in a dark house was one of them. There was something to be said for having a man in the house at night. Too bad she didn’t know of any.

  Too bad Cooper Boyd had turned out to be a bad nightmare.

  Dana undressed for bed, then slid between the warmth of new flannel sheets letting go of the day. She finally relaxed.

  Closing her heavy eyes, her thoughts drifted like a tide rolling back into the sea. She was too tired to keep the man who had challenged her to smile from her mind. She tried to remember his face.

  He had nerve, that’s for sure, and a confidence she rarely saw in men who flirted with her, and this one had done so quite blatantly. Most came on to her with a lot of pretense—cock-and-bull stories, but when it came to asking her out, many didn’t follow through. Her brother had told her that since she was so beautiful, men had a difficult time with her looks. They felt threatened.

  Dana rolled onto her side, hugging the pillow and settling into a drowsy warmth. She didn’t think she was that pretty, but she did acknowledge she was different. Nobody else in Ketchikan was black and Chinese, with a quarter Caucasian thrown in. And that did set her apart.

  “But I’ll come back another time to make you smile.”

  Yeah, sure…go ahead and try.

  Those were her last thoughts before falling into a deep sleep.

  “I’M NOT GOING to Kenai—just thought you should know.” Mark spoke into his cell phone.

  From the redwood deck of Jeff’s rental condominium, Mark gazed at the panoramic scenery below. Cedar and hemlock trees flanked the steep hillside, the ground alight with white and purple blooming flowers. An overcast sky hung heavily in the air, but he could make out the waterway. Earlier this morning, the harbor had been cloaked in fog. Now he could see four monstrous cruise ships, like large bleached-white whales, lining the dock space.

  “Where are you?” his sister, Francesca, asked.

&
nbsp; “Ketchikan. My connection was canceled on Monday, then I missed Tuesday afternoon’s flight out. We went fishing first thing and didn’t make it back on time. So I’m staying at Jeff Grisham’s rental condo for the duration.”

  Mark fought off a yawn. He’d woken when the sun began to break just after four—six o’clock Boise time—and he could have used a couple more hours after last night’s lack of sleep. Years of hitting an alarm at that hour and the habit of getting up early meant he was awake for the day.

  “Duration of what?” Franci’s voice reverberated through the line, concern marking her tone. “Who’s Jeff Grisham?”

  “A guy from Seattle I met at the Pioneer Café two days ago. I went in for lunch to wait for the next flight out and we got to talking. He’s here to go fishing, so I decided to stay overnight because he hooked me up with a sweet fishing charter in town. Then I missed my re-ticketed flight because our boat was late getting back.” A sparrow swooped onto the deck, pecked at something, then flew off. “Be on the lookout for a big box of frozen fish. I sent you, Robert, John and Mom some halibut and salmon.”

  His brother Robert owned a restaurant and would appreciate the fine catch. John was a lawyer and his kids probably wouldn’t go for fresh fish, but he’d sent some anyway. His mother would cook it for sure. Francesca…she’d probably have her husband, Kyle, fix it for them.

  “Okay, thanks.” Then just like his sister, she went on with the grilling. “So why aren’t you going to Kenai now?”

  “What for? Fishing’s great here. And that’s the whole reason I came to Alaska.”

  The line grew quiet for a long breath. “I know why you went to Alaska, Mark. Don’t try and hide the truth from me. You need time to think about Dad and what you’re going to do.”

  “Yeah, sure. I know that.” He leaned against the deck stair, his bare feet propped on the railing’s lower rung.

  There was a cold chill this morning, but he hadn’t readily noticed when he’d stepped outside wearing jeans. His long-sleeved Moretti Construction T-shirt warded off some of the earlier morning bite, but not much. Coffee cup in hand, he’d been thinking about too many other things to bother with boots or a sweatshirt.

  “So let everyone know,” Mark said, watching the hundreds of tourists populate the streets like an army of ants. The hour crept toward noon now. Jeff had slept in. “You can reach me on my cell. There’s no landline at this rental.”

  “Be careful.”

  Mark pushed away from the wall, a smile on his mouth. “Oh come on, Franci. I’m forty years old.” He laughed. “Be careful for what? If something was going to get me, it would have smacked me on the side of the head by now.”

  They ended their conversation after casual exchanges about what was going on within the family, then Mark slipped his phone into a leather holder on his belt.

  “We’re good to go,” Jeff announced, stepping onto the deck that needed a fresh coat of stain. Any hangover traces prompted by last night’s beers seemed to have been curtailed by his third black coffee. But the arch of his right cheek had ripened to an eggplant color. “Bro, I got us seats on Fish Tail Air. They’ll fly us to Red Creek Lodge and the charter will take us to prime fishing grounds. Depending on how we do hooking the chinook, we may want to leave the freshwater inlets and head out to the ocean.” Draining the last of his coffee with a long gulp, he set his cup on the deck railing. “The rate on two rooms was cheap. Gotta love Alaska.”

  Mark went inside to grab his boots and wool socks, Jeff following behind.

  The condo was relaxing and comfortable despite its size. It boasted a small living room with a view of the city and a gas fireplace. The tiny kitchen used up half the common space, and there was a breakfast bar rather than a table and chairs. There were two small bedrooms with a shared bath and a laundry closet.

  In spite of running at the mouth in bars, Jeff wasn’t a pig. He picked up after himself, kept the bathroom counter clean and didn’t leave his wet towel on the floor. Actually, he’d proved to be pretty anal and meticulous about personal details.

  Mark sank onto the sofa and asked, “So how often do you fish here?”

  “Every year. It’s a major stress reliever. I told you about my buddy who couldn’t make it at the last minute. Had a tech problem to iron out in our latest beta program. He’s probably popping Rolaids like Tic Tacs.”

  Tying on one of his boots, Mark gave an upward glance. “What do you do in Seattle again?”

  “Microsoft.” Jeff gave him a wide grin. “I’m a computer geek. You run Vista? That’s me, bro. Had a hand in developing it.”

  Laughing, Mark stood. “I’m computer illiterate. I don’t even have one. Couldn’t tell you how anything works.”

  “I could get you a primo discount.”

  “I’m good, thanks.”

  “Well, if you ever change your mind,” Jeff said, snagging his jacket and a ditty bag, “whatever you do, don’t go to the dark side. Macs suck.”

  “I think that’s what my sister has in her work trailer.”

  “Bummer, bro.”

  They locked the condo, stowed all their gear in the pickup, then took off for the floatplane dock.

  “So you build stuff,” Jeff said between bites of beef jerky—the breakfast of computer geeks. “Like furniture and those wall racks we all had to make in wood shop?”

  “Buildings. High-rises.”

  “No kidding. Cool.”

  As they wound down the hillside toward town, green scenery passed in a blur. Dark rocks covered with moss created shadows on his left. A small waterfall spilled on his right, then disappeared into the trees. Gazing out the passenger window, Mark’s thoughts strayed to Boise, Idaho. Home. He wondered how things were going for Moretti Construction, the family construction business his Italian immigrant father, Giovanni, had built from the ground up.

  They’d just completed their most ambitious project ever—the multimillion-dollar Grove Marketplace. A downtown renovation and revitalization that had been Giovanni’s dream.

  His father had passed away before the Grove had been completed, but he had been able to see the job get a good start. Last month, when the final building had been signed off on by the inspectors, the moment had been bittersweet.

  The family had gathered that Sunday night at Mark’s mom’s house for dinner, giving Giovanni Moretti a toast of remembrance.

  The project’s formal dedication had been reserved for this September, and Mark would be there to take part in the ceremony. For now, he had the summer to think about what he wanted to do with the rest of his life.

  The truth of the matter was, Giovanni’s untimely death had affected Mark far more than he’d let on to his mother or brothers and sister. The father he’d been so driven to be accepted by and win approval from was no longer around to give him a pat on the back.

  Mark felt as if he’d lost direction. He had to figure out a plan.

  One thing for certain—he wasn’t getting any younger. Years of physical labor were taxing his body. To his annoyance, his joints had to be worked out of their stiffness in the morning, and it was harder to get going.

  His brother-in-law, Kyle Jagger, and partner in Moretti, wanted to take the company in a new direction—construction management. Doing so would mean no more hands-on carpentry work for Mark. While he still found some satisfaction from strapping on a tool belt, the idea was something to consider seriously.

  Mark had spent years molding himself into a man his father could be proud of. Learning the carpentry trade, he’d been taught everything his father knew about building.

  Outgoing and fair, Mark recognized he was good with people, managing crews and telling the superintendents what to do. The trouble was, he hadn’t managed his life well at all.

  And the Grove Marketplace had literally burned him out.

  Long overdue to recharge his batteries, Mark had cashed his bonus check and caught a flight to Alaska.

  “Parking downtown sucks,” Jeff complaine
d, angling the rental pickup truck behind a Dumpster, slightly blocking a Buick LeSabre’s rusted white fender. The marina overflow lot had signs designating slots for the Blue Note and Fish Tail Air customers.

  Not realizing the businesses were so close, the idea of seeing the woman with the green eyes and sexy mouth filled his mind with suggestive thoughts. Mark fit his sunglasses on the back of his neck, glancing at the marina. “Do you know the name of that woman who threw you out of the bar last night?”

  Indignance crossed Jeff’s facial features. The bill of a Seattle Mariners ball cap rode low on his forehead. “I’ve never been thrown out of a bar. I chose to leave.” Giving the dial on his complex watch a quick look, Jeff frowned. “We gotta boog. Flight leaves in half an hour.”

  They hopped out and grabbed the fishing gear, coolers, Orvis rods and reels, waders and tackle boxes and headed down the buckling sidewalk leading to the slips. The sidewalk also led directly toward the Blue Note.

  The bar looked different in broad daylight. Definitely in poorer repair than Mark had noticed last night. Sections of corrugated roofing had loosened, slightly bent at the ends from the wind. Areas of siding had been repaired too many times and were beyond fixing. Each board needed to be axed and a whole new exterior constructed.

  Gray and colorless, the place lacked life. Directly in front, at the dock, three floatplanes were in a line, propeller to tail, like yellow insects waiting to take flight.

  “Dana.” Jeff spoke without a reference point, then added as a clarification as Mark cocked his head, “Her name’s Dana Jackson. And don’t even bother to go there. She’s not interested. We’ve all tried. You’ll have better fishing for chicks at the Arctic Bar.”

  The entry door to the Blue Note had been propped open, soft music spilling outside. Mark made a guess that midday didn’t draw a lot of customers.

  If their pilot hadn’t been on the dock waiting for them, Mark would have gone inside the bar to shout out a little howdy to Dana.