thinking several consecutive stories will be nice, actually, perhaps a four-part series that begins with the story on Paul—whose roots are here in Paradise Cove—which would run in the main part of the paper. The remaining three pieces could be on the state and written either for the travel or lifestyle sections. What do you think?”
I’m thinking someone else should do this assignment.
“I think that’s a good idea. That way, the article doesn’t come off as a blatant endorsement. If that happened, we might have to give equal space to the opponent. That’s something I’ll check into.”
“See, I knew you were the perfect fit for this piece. Having helped your brother during his successful mayoral bid gives you an insight into politics and the types of questions to answer that will make this a much more interesting story than one written by someone with no personal experience in that world. You’ll have instant camaraderie, which along with the education and skill you bring to the table will make for a winning article. Be sure and write it on Paul in a way that doesn’t warrant a rebuttal piece. The last thing Benny would want to do is give his son’s opponent a forum.”
Teresa nodded. “When do I leave for this assignment?”
“Tomorrow, if possible.”
Teresa’s WTH face came out of hiding.
“It’s the life of a journalist, darling, who instantly goes to where the story flows. Paul leaves for a tour across Alaska on Thursday and as I’ve said, we want this story to run next week. Which is why I’m giving you the rest of the day off to prepare for the trip. Your flight is at one o’clock from Oakland, putting you into Anchorage tomorrow evening. A tentative appointment with Paul has been set up for Wednesday morning, but you’ll need to confirm that with his assistant once you arrive. We’re pulling together everything you need—confirmation numbers for flight and hotel, contact numbers and a suggested itinerary—which will be emailed to you this afternoon. This is a tricky time of year up there where rain, snow and dropping temps are all in the forecast, so pack accordingly. You may need to schedule a couple hours at an Anchorage mall after your meeting for your investigative travels, but hopefully you have the gear to get you through your arrival and first meeting, and by gear I mean boots, scarves, knit cap or hat, an umbrella or raincoat and gloves.”
“In April?”
Gloria nodded. “When reading the clothing recommendations for our May cruise, I had the same reaction. Turns out we used every piece of winter clothing we’d placed in the luggage. One of the recommendations in the itinerary requires an arrival by boat and believe me, when the wind kicks up among the sails, it can be something fierce. So I strongly encourage you to check the internet for more specifics on the weather and be more prepared to layer and stay warm rather than dress to impress, which I know will be hard for the woman voted Most Fashionable in last year’s society section.”
“I’m sure I’ll manage. But—” Teresa stood “—between researching the candidate and shopping for winter in spring, it’s going to take every second up to and including my time during the flight. So I’d best get started.”
“My assistant helped out a bit by pulling some things off the internet and combining them with information Benny has provided. All of this will be included in the email you receive. You can use the remaining days for the vacation-destination angle of your piece, returning on Friday or staying through the weekend, your choice. But I need at least a draft of the first article on my desk Friday morning and the finished version first thing Monday.”
“Got it. Thanks for giving me this opportunity, Gloria. I’ll do my best.”
“I know how you operate, Teresa, with a standard of excellence. You’ll do even better than that.”
That evening, Teresa entered the Drake estate burdened down with boxes and bags. The housekeeper met her at the door leading from the garage, with Jennifer, Teresa’s mother, not far behind.
“I take for you.”
“Thanks, Sylvia.” Teresa handed over all but a couple of the bags. “Just place them in my suite. They won’t be there long, so no need to hang them.” She turned to Jennifer. “Hi, Mom.”
“Hello, dear. Shopping usually puts a smile on your face. You don’t look happy.”
“I don’t like snow.” Teresa slunk down the hall, through the gallery and into the living room, where she plopped onto a couch.
Jennifer joined her for needed clarification. “Clearly, something happened today. Would you like to start at the beginning?”
“I’m going to Alaska.”
“Oh, how wonderful.”
“Not you, too.”
“What? I’ve heard the beauty there is magnificent. Just the other day your father and I were discussing a possible Alaskan cruise with the neighbors.”
“Great! Would you like to go there tomorrow, interview a politician and then travel to a couple places only accessible by boat?”
“Teresa, you’re sulking and that doesn’t become you. I’ll take part of the blame for this. You’re too much like your mother, a girlie-girl whose idea of roughing it means driving ourselves into San Francisco instead of hiring a driver.”
“Exactly, Mom. You understand!”
“I do. And I also recognize that the paper sending you on assignment after six short months of working there speaks highly of their belief in your ability to do the job.” She placed a hand on Teresa’s arm. “It’s why you gave your dad heartburn until he caved in to your request for a leave of absence, correct?”
“You’re right.”
“Think of the trip as a blessing in disguise. You haven’t dated much since George showed his true colors. Perhaps you’ll meet someone and—”
“Mom. I’m not ready to get back into the dating game. I’d rather focus on work.”
“Then view it as a change of scenery and chance to clear your head.”
“I know that I should be grateful. But I had plans this weekend and they didn’t include being in a place where bears outnumber humans.”
Jennifer chuckled. “Tell me more about this wonderful opportunity.”
An hour later, Jennifer’s eternally optimistic perspective made Teresa feel better about leaving for Alaska. A little.
* * *
Atka Sinclair sat back in his company’s Mercedes-Benz helicopter and surveyed part of the Aleknagik land that had been in his tribe’s generation for a thousand years. The dusting of snow reflecting against the sun gave the tableau an ethereal feel. The deep and varied hues of tall, green pines seemed to lift their branches in praise to the universe. Birds and clouds floated on serenity’s song against a backdrop of sparkling lakes. All this—uninterrupted by glass-and-concrete edifices, corporate offices or cookie-cutter houses—was more than four hundred miles away from his company’s corporate offices in Anchorage, and a hundred miles from Dillingham, where the highly profitable fisheries that drove the corporation were located. It was here that he felt one with the sky, the earth and all its creatures. Here, twenty
