of a black tee and jeans announced the approach of the waiter as he slipped out of the kitchen. His tan skin paled as four men exploded through the entrance with thunderous hoots and booted footfalls. The boy stiffened as they receded into an unmarked hallway in the back.
In their wake, an older man, clad in fishermen’s rubber and plaid flannel, met Aly’s gaze. His shoulders straightened as Greg exited the booth. With a firm pat on the shoulder, they led one another to an empty table.
Aly tightened her jacket, surprised to feel unprepared. Alone again, business was becoming a synonym for desertion.
The same choice he made seventeen years ago.
Smacking Moosetard: Alaska’s Finest Mustard on the table and balancing a tray on Greg’s abandoned seat, the server pulled a notebook from the apron at his waist.
“Welcome to Yazzie’s, I’m Noah and-” he paused, glancing up during the habitual introduction, “-you’re new.”
“Alyson Glass,” Aly revised, meeting a striking set of chestnut eyes. He appeared to have fully recovered from the disturbance, his faltered smirk now a relaxed grin.
Sporting tousled chocolate brown hair, Noah was put together in a seemingly accidental way. Handsome features flattered a strong, clean-shaven jaw, and a fitted tee stretched across strong shoulders and muscular build. Paired with a charming smile, his gaze was both cautious and curious.
“Glass…” he mused, biting his lower lip. “Like the doctor?”
Wow.
Dazed, she smiled and quickly nodded.
She thought of her father’s profession, something along the lines of researcher and field biologist. It was amusing to imagine Greg, with his flannel and hiking boots and permanently attached baseball cap, introducing himself as ‘Doctor Glass’. She couldn’t recall if his degree was high enough for the scholarly title, but she had heard him toss around the term before.
“So Greg Glass is your dad?” Noah raised an eyebrow. “You don’t seem much like him.”
“He’s lived here for a while. You’ve probably seen him more than I have,” she confessed, tucking a stray tress behind her ear.
“Wow. Where are you from?”
“Kingsley, New York.”
“That’s a bit far,” he agreed, laughing. “So what do you think of Alaska? Were you expecting twentyfour hour darkness?”
“No,” she said, “sunlight.”
“Right,” he breathed. His amused half-smile twisted into an eyeshining grin. “Are you an Alyson-Alyson or AlyAlyson?”
“Just Aly.” “Understatement of the year,” he smirked. Squinting, his expression was unreadable.
A burst of air ruffled her hair, drawing her attention to the table at her back. One of the dancers from the school had lifted and flattened a cloak across the table, showing another woman a frayed seam.
“Their performance was beautiful,” Aly confided, meeting his gaze.
“You saw their show?”
“Some. The masks, the totem poles, the murals… The arts – the culturehere is amazing.”
“You noticed all of that?” Noah asked, surprised. “That’s awesome. You know, if you’re interested in it, there’s these murals inside the old train tunnels up byGrimsby’s. Every year the teens here go up and add to it– there’s all sorts of stuff about the legends. A few of us are taking some ATVs on the trails up that way tomorrow night. You in?”
“Definitely,” Aly agreed, unable to control the smile flooding her face.
“Cool. Anyway,” he continued, waving a pack of order slips, “What can I get you?”
“Something normal, boring… that has nothing to do with fish.”
A burst of laughter erupted from his chest, receiving pleased looks from other high-spirited patrons who seemed to find him wellliked.
Me too.
“I’m pretty sure they have omelets in the lower forty-eight, Aly.” He offered a knowing grin.
“Sounds wonderful.” She sighed.
“Coffee?”
“Please.”
“Alright,” he smiled, “I’ll be back.”
CHAPTER 4 | NOAH
“Your dad lives on the outskirts, right? On Thorne Ave’?” Noah clarified, setting a steaming plate on the table behind Alyson Glass.
The booth fit the curve of her back, her long brunette waves tucked between them.
“Yeah, on the edge of that bustling metropolis you’ve all got here,” she teased, flashing perfect teeth.
Noah smiled to himself, blinking as she raised her gaze. She sparkled with laughter.
“Right, right. Are you headed back up there today?”
“I doubt it. Maybe to change or put groceries away or something. Greg made me sell my car before we moved, so he’s my ride.” Her blue eyes flickered as she spoke.
He had never met someone who seemed so incredibly controlled and totally relaxed at the same time. Ashland locals were one-sizedfits all. There were archetypal alcoholics and unnecessary gossips – most people were both. Everybody knew everybody: their names, their parents, closet skeletons, monumental failures, awkward phases and all. It rarely got more exciting than a death