style="font-size:15px;"> Just then a low grunt from the pilot caught Jake’s attention. Gordon’s face was gray and beads of sweat had broken out on his forehead.
“What’s wrong?”
“Chest...tight...hurts like one of your bears is sitting on me.”
Jake leaned over and loosened the other man’s collar. He took the pilot’s pulse; it was fast and thready and his fingernails had a bluish tinge. Jake had a fair amount of experience with first aid from working in remote areas, but this was more than a cut or busted leg.
“Do you have any health conditions—asthma or something?” he asked casually, figuring the mention of a possible heart attack could cause panic.
Gordon groaned. “N-no.”
“Okay. Maybe we should radio ahead to the village.”
“Yeah. And I’ll have to...to bring us down. Won’t have time to find...a good spot.”
“Just get us down. Try to relax and breathe deeply.” Jake shot a glance into the backseat and saw Toby’s alarmed expression, but there was little he could do to reassure him.
The pilot called for help on the radio, giving their position as he angled the plane downward. Jake murmured encouragement, at the same time taking quick looks outside; the featureless field of snow looked more and more irregular the closer they got.
At the last moment the pilot groaned and lurched forward. There wasn’t any time to react. Jake’s side of the plane took the hardest impact and his last thought before losing consciousness was that all that soft-looking snow was damned hard on contact.
HANNAH NOLAN RACED into the real estate office. She was running late, but she wanted to touch base with the leasing agent for the house she’d inherited from her great-aunt. She would have loved to live in Huckleberry Lodge, but the upkeep and utilities were too expensive. It was more practical to live with her son in Silver Cottage—the guesthouse located over the detached garage—and rent out the main building.
“Hey, Lillian,” she called.
“Hannah, I was just going to phone you. I have a fabulous offer you’re going to flip over.”
“I’m not selling my great-aunt’s property,” Hannah returned.
Lillian routinely tried to convince her to sell rather than rent, and she wasn’t interested. Great-Aunt Elkie had been devoted to the lodge; it was the home her husband had built when they were first married and hoping for a large family. And despite Hannah’s attempts to be practical, deep in her heart, she was desperately sentimental. If she’d had her druthers, she would be living in the lodge with a man she loved as much as Great-Aunt Elkie had loved Great-Uncle Larry.
The real estate agent waved her hand dismissively. “I’m not talking about selling. You have an offer to lease Huckleberry Lodge on a monthly basis, with utilities paid on top of the rent. It will mean ten times the income you’ve been getting with those short-term winter rentals. The first three months are guaranteed, but it’ll probably be for a full year or longer.”
A full year...?
Hannah’s knees wobbled as she mentally added up the amount she’d receive. She grabbed a chair and sat down. It was a fabulous offer, but it also meant the lodge would “belong” to someone else the whole time. There wouldn’t be any going over and using the hot tub when the house was vacant, and she’d have to collect her favorite movies from the large DVD collection in the library, along with other favorite items.
Still, what a break. Her renters were primarily wealthy skiers who came up over the winter from either Portland or Seattle. Summer was beautiful in the Washington Cascade Mountains, and the town was located on a picturesque lake, but the town’s biggest tourist draw remained skiing, both downhill and cross-country.
“What’s the catch?” she asked.
“No catch. It’s a photographer—that guy whose plane crashed in Alaska when the pilot had a heart attack. It was big news because he won a Pulitzer for his war photos a few years ago. Imagine having that kind of recognition at his age. He can’t even be thirty-five.”
Hannah frowned thoughtfully. “Why does he need the lodge for so long? We aren’t in a combat zone, and the nearest polar bear is in a zoo.”
“I’ve only spoken to Mr. Hollister’s agent, Andy Bedard. You know Andy—he rents the lodge two or three times every winter. Tall, lanky and a whiz on skis?”
Hannah nodded, picturing the nerdy guy in her mind. Andy could be socially awkward, but when he strapped on his skis, he was unrivaled. She’d had so many people in and out of Huckleberry Lodge it was hard to recall them all, but he was one of her best tenants. Although he always brought a large group of clients with him, they never caused problems.
“Anyhow,” Lillian continued, “apparently Mr. Hollister’s injuries were more severe than the news reports made it sound. It will take at least a year for him to recover and get back to the kind of photography he’s known for, so he’s doing a book on the Cascade Mountains while he recuperates. Andy calls it The Cascades Across Four Seasons. Kind of dull, but it’s just a working title. Anyhow, I can fax the lease over tonight if you agree. I already told his business manager there’s a large damage and cleaning deposit.”
“Go ahead. It’s too good to turn down.”
“That’s what I thought. There’s just one other thing...Mr. Hollister wants someone to do a bit of light housekeeping twice a week, for a couple of hours. But only when he isn’t off working, and he’ll pay extra for the service. You could hire somebody else, but I’d hate to see you lose the income. He shouldn’t be around that often with the book to photograph.”
Hannah hesitated. She was accustomed to cleaning the lodge after weekend skiers, but the prospect of having a regular tenant had given her a brief, appealing vision of spending more time with her son over the winter.
“Do it,” Lillian urged. “He’s offering an obscene amount of money per hour. If nothing else, you can put it toward Danny’s college fund.”
It was an argument that could convince Hannah to do a lot of things. Her ex-husband never sent child support—she wasn’t even sure where he was most of the time—and her salary as an elementary schoolteacher didn’t allow her to save much.
“All right.” At least this way she could keep an eye on the house and make sure Mr. Hollister wasn’t doing any damage. Not that being a daredevil photographer meant he’d be a bad tenant, but he took chances with his life that no sane person would consider.
“Excellent. When the lease comes back, I’ll call and you can sign, as well. Mr. Hollister wants to move in next week, so I’m sure he’ll return the paperwork quickly. It’s going to be fun having someone famous staying in Mahalaton Lake, even if he has a reputation for being a loner. You’ll have to convince him to come to some of the town events so we can all get to know him.”
Hannah wasn’t sure about fun, but it would be a relief not having people constantly in and out of the lodge. Just cleaning up after each group had taken two or three evenings following
