“Are they your friends though?”
“Acquaintances. And I won’t force you to go, but I would be very grateful if you did. I even arranged to have a few dresses available for you if you decide to humor me.”
In all the years of their friendship, Zoey had never been comfortable with Lana’s family or her acquaintances. But Lana looked so hopeful, and Zoey didn’t have the heart to tell her no.
“Can I reserve the right to not go? And give you a maybe?”
“Done.” Beaming, Lana hugged her. “Okay, off to get ready for the day.”
“The spiffing. I’ll do it,” Zoey valiantly volunteered. “Get your things, because I’m staying on the couch for another hour.”
“Are you sure? You really did get a bit more sloshed than I expected last night. There’s a perfectly acceptable beautician in the spa who’ll do.”
“And you’ll come back annoyed and frustrated because they never get your eye makeup right. Then I’ll end up fixing it anyway. I’ll trade you coffee for a spiffing.”
She half expected Lana to order the coffee, but her friend went to the room’s coffee maker instead. Lana was many things—too many things—but unobservant wasn’t one of them. Even though Zoey had maybe consumed half a dozen cups of coffee in front of her friend, Lana fixed it for her perfectly. One and a half creams, half a sugar.
“There you go.” Lana smiled at her warmly, giving Zoey the coffee and her makeup case. “Thank you, dearest. Now, make me beautiful.”
Even in her post-inebriated state, Zoey couldn’t help but chuckle at that. “You’re always beautiful.”
Growing up within driving distance of the suburbs of Chicago had its perks. Unable to remember a time when she and her family hadn’t been strapped for cash, a teenage Zoey had taken an extra job at a local department store in the makeup department. Somehow spritzing expensive cologne in unsuspecting patrons’ faces turned into perching on a stool next to the makeup counter.
She’d never had any formal training, but her hands were steady, and she had a good eye for what palettes brought out the color and sparkle in someone’s eyes. As jobs went, it hadn’t paid as much as she’d hoped for, but as life skills went, her ability to draw a line of liquid eyeliner with surgical precision benefitted her far more often than she would have expected.
Zoey learned what she needed to keep the women in her seats happy, but as a shy teenager with thick glasses and a single outfit nice enough to work in, she had been surprised to find how much she enjoyed it.
Somehow, in her detailed and determined interrogation of all things Zoey, Lana had discovered her past and put it to full use whenever she really needed a “spiff.”
Spiffing Lana for a date often took hours, the socialite nothing if not determined to look her best on the rare occurrences someone managed to catch her eye for an entire evening. But since this was just an afternoon rendezvous, whatever that entailed, Zoey made quicker work of her canvas.
“So what’s he like?”
“Hmm?”
“The person you’re having drinks with.”
“I don’t know. I didn’t catch his name. I was more focused on his hands.” Lana sighed lustily. At Zoey’s raised eyebrow, Lana added, “During my massage yesterday morning. Don’t be such a prude.”
“I’m not a prude.”
“Really?”
“I’m not a prude,” Zoey clarified. “I just don’t love being squished and squashed around by strangers.”
“Oh, you do not know what you’re missing.”
Maybe she didn’t. It had been a long time since Zoey had been squished, let alone squashed, by anyone, stranger or no.
Making Lana beautiful wasn’t hard. She’d look great with a soggy paper bag over her head. But since Zoey loved her, she did her best to make Lana as fabulous as the resort in which they were staying. Then, when Lana rushed off to her breakfast, Zoey moved to the window.
Lana had been kind enough to leave the blackout curtains drawn, but Zoey braved the bright light peaking around the edges of the curtains, drawing them aside. She was met with a vibrant blue sky backdropping rows of mountains, jutting up like gorgeous, ragged teeth.
The part of Illinois she came from was flat as a pancake. Back there, she could see for miles, no matter where she looked. Adrift in a sea of cornfields and soybeans, broken up only by subdivisions and strip malls. Here, Zoey felt anchored in place. The mountains and the valley below were all she could see. She’d been in Moose Springs less than a day, and she’d already fallen in love with this tiny Alaskan town.
“Best vacation ever,” she whispered to herself. “Worth every penny.”
* * *
Hannah hadn’t let Graham buy her a drink. She had, however, let him pay her back the money he owed her.
It bothered Graham that he hadn’t remembered the two hundred dollars, although in his defense, New Year’s was his holiday to be the drunk one. To surround himself with his friends and family and take comfort in the oblivion of his own concoctions, knowing they had his back if he got too stupid.
“Too” was a relative term. Graham was well aware of the reputation preceding him.
Even though his night had run later than expected, with a sloshy little tourist to blame, Graham pulled himself out of bed early, determined to make full use of his morning. The Tourist Trap didn’t open until eleven, and Graham was an expert at not showing up a minute beforehand.
Even though his body wanted to hide under the covers for a few more hours, he had things to do. Chainsaws to oil. Large chunks of wood to carve.
The thirty-acre stretch of land lining the southern edge of the resort property had been in the Barnett family for generations. His parents had traded life in the woods for a nice condo near the inlet in Anchorage, closer to his mother’s job. Graham could have stayed in the main house, but they visited a lot, and he preferred his space.
Thankfully, the tiny log cabin just off the dirt access road was all Graham’s own.
Between the two of them, Graham and Easton built the cabin with their own hands. And okay, maybe the first time around, they kind of botched it up, and the second time, the woodburning stove caught the living room on fire, but the third time around, they crushed it. Maybe if Graham had known that his diner was going to be a financial success, he would have invested more in the size of his house, but interior walls seemed a little too complicated for a first home.
One of these days, if life let him stop making Growly Bears for a living, Graham was going to pack up his belongings and move north of Denali, where no one would ever—ever—ask him to take a selfie with them again.