Chapter Thirteen

“How many consecutive days without an accident?”

Izzy looked up from her laptop screen to see Bridget smiling at her from the doorway of Trace’s office. She glanced at her watch. “Three days, eight hours and twenty-seven minutes.”

Yes, she did feel like a walking version of one of those industrial workplace signs. But this was a record for her since coming to Captivity, and after what would go down in the annals of town history as the “Great Captivity Goose Attack,” she considered it a personal victory.

“Not too shabby a way to roll into a Friday,” Bridget said, and lowered herself into one of the guest chairs. She pulled the front of her Captivity Air sweatshirt away from her chest and fanned air into it. “Jeebus, it’s hot in here.”

“Sorry.” Izzy put her toasty feet closer to her space heater and dialed the output down a few notches before hitting save on her current spreadsheet. She’d just finished off the employee and contractor list. It was a lean operation, with full-time staff consisting of Trace, Bridget, Mad, Wing, and Lenna Klukwan, who served as a sort of office manager, ticket agent, gate agent and all-around taskmaster. She was, however, on vacation until Monday, so Izzy had yet to meet the indominable Lenna.

“Hey, if you like it, and Trace can handle it, that’s all that matters. And speaking of my brother, has he called you?”

“Not since this morning. Why?” Trace had flown to Anchorage earlier in the day to take a couple guests from the inn to catch their flight back to the lower forty-eight, but he planned to return in time to drive her to the inn.

“He’ll call once he knows for sure, but I think he’s going to stay in Anchorage tonight. Lenna’s redeye gets in super early tomorrow morning, and I can’t go fetch her because I have to make a run to Juneau for some supplies Dr. Devan ordered, so…”

She nodded. “So, I’m on my own this evening.”

“Well, I had an idea about that.” Bridget leaned in and rested her forearms on her thighs in a move so reminiscent of Trace, Izzy couldn’t help but smile.

She pushed her laptop aside and propped her elbows on the desk. “What’s your idea?”

“Okay. Trace has this weird notion that he shouldn’t bring you to the house overnight, because I’m there, and it would—I don’t know—make everyone uncomfortable. I think that’s a load of crap.” Her deep amethyst eyes flashed. “It’s a big house. There’s plenty of room. What he really doesn’t want is to do anything that would require him to extend reciprocity to me, but that’s also a load of crap because I don’t have any plans to bring a guy home. I can go to Juneau to get lucky, or Anchorage, or to the Goose, for that matter. So, anyway, I’m thinking we can break down this particular wall while he’s out of town. Come over to the house tonight. Lilah’s coming over, too. We’ll pop some corks, eat some dinner, and have ourselves a girls’ night in.”

“That sounds fun. Uh, wait. Is Lilah old enough to drink?”

“Izzy, it’s Captivity.”

“I’m, like, an officer of the court.”

Bridget sat back and waved a hand. “Don’t worry. She doesn’t drink. But she works hard. Takes online college courses in the morning and works at the inn almost every afternoon. She needs a night off as much as any of us. A night away from mama, too. Though I love Rose, she is a strict one when it comes to her baby girl. Join us. What do you say?”

Guilt warred with a strong urge to accept the invitation. How long had it been since she’d enjoyed a girls’ night of any kind? Drinks with Danny didn’t count. He was a dear friend, but still, at the end of the day, a man. But this extension of friendship was offered as a result of false pretenses. She really should find a polite way to refuse. And yet…

“I’d love to.”

Dammit.

Bridget smiled brightly, turning her lucky assemblage of features from merely beautiful to ridiculously stunning. “Great.” She surged to her feet. “It’s a plan.” At the door, she paused and looked back at Izzy. “Pack a bag and spend the night. That way neither of us has to drive after we’ve popped those corks. It’s a big house. You can have Trace’s room.”

“Um, we’ll see.” One drink plus dinner wouldn’t incapacitate her, and the weather report called for clear skies, so she fully anticipated driving home, but saw no benefit in insisting on it upfront.

After Hurricane Bridget swept out of the office, Izzy pondered the turn of events. Girls’ night. What was the harm?

Probably none. Assuming Trace did, indeed, decide to stay the night in Anchorage. Her phone chose that moment to ring, and although she expected Trace to call, the tone told her it was Chuck on the line. She rushed over to shut the office door, and then answered.

“Hi, Chuck.”

“Hi, Izzy. How’s Captivity treating you?”

Well, Chuck, it’s trying to kill me, or at least maim me… “It’s fine. Great.” She returned to the desk and sat. “I’m making good progress.”

“I can tell. Everything you’ve loaded to the firm’s drive looks perfect. I knew you’d be able to sort things quickly and power through the due diligence.” He sounded approving. And grateful. Her mood soared.

“You left a message indicating you had a question.”

“Yes.” She shuffled through the file folders she’d placed on Trace’s desk until she found the one she sought. “It’s about the ownership of the airfield. I can see that Trace Shanahan owns fifty percent of Captivity Air and Freight, by virtue of a trust he’s fully vested in. I also see that Bridget Shanahan holds fifty percent by virtue of a trust that doesn’t fully vest until the earlier of the day she graduates from an accredited university with a bachelor’s degree, or upon her thirtieth birthday.”

“That’s correct,” Chuck confirmed. “Trace has full control of his half and has for several years—as of the date he graduated from UAA with a degree in business. Of course, he’s thirty at this point, so even without the degree, he would have vested by now. Bridget, on the other hand, hasn’t met either condition of vesting yet.”

“So, she can’t make any disposition of her interest?”

“Precisely. Skyline understands this, by the way. She can neither approve nor decline Skyline’s purchase of Trace’s interest, but her interest remains in her trust until one of the vesting criteria is met.”

“Who’s her trustee?”

Chuck sighed. “You don’t want to know.”

“Oh. Sorry. And she doesn’t know anything about Trace’s plan to sell his interest yet?”

“No. It’s still a potential plan right now, but nothing is happening to her half. As the trustee of her trust, I have nothing to tell her. Everything is status quo. As far as Trace’s plans for his half, as my client, I owe him a duty of confidentiality. But if it eases your mind, Trace knows Bridget, and Bridget knows Trace. She might be surprised to learn he intends to sell his share, but she won’t wish to stand in the way of him doing something he wants to do. And there are protections built into this deal for her—”

“I’ll say. Two million of them, at a minimum, if she decides to sell her interest once it vests.”

“Skyline has to pay her fifty percent of the then-current fair market value of the airfield, or the two million, whichever is greater. Or she can sell her half to another party, if she feels she can do better via a different buyer. It’s an exceedingly good deal for her. Is this what worried you? That Trace wishes to sell his interest without previewing his intentions to Bridget.”

“No, actually. Although I think that’s going to be awkward, I had a more nuts-and-bolts question.” She opened another file and took out a sheet of paper. “I found an old statement for Trace’s trust—the files are kinda scary—but anyway, according to that statement, he held an unvested thirty-three and one-third ownership interest in the airfield. Skyline hasn’t asked for any documentation other than what supports the current ownership distribution, but I’d like to know how that third became half, just in case they ask.”

“At the time Trace’s parents retired, they created three trusts, each containing an approximate one-third ownership. The third trust dissolved, per its terms, and the shares went fifty percent to Trace—directly to Trace, by then—and fifty percent to Bridget’s trust.”

“Oh.” For some reason her stomach tightened.

“Problem?”

“No. It’s just…that doesn’t quite line up with what Trace told me. He indicated his parents signed over their interest in full when they retired. Now I’m learning they kept a third in trust until a later time. Granted our discussion was high-level, and strictly in the context of confirming that his parents didn’t need to be signatories to the purchase agreement.”

“Well, at the end of the day, that’s all true. He streamlined it a little, but it gets you to the same place.”

“Right.” She tossed the statement into the file and pushed it back into the stack where she’d found it. “You’re right. It just caught my eye, that’s all.”

“You have an eye for detail. It’s one of the many assets the firm values in you.”

The compliment went a long way to easing her nerves—and that’s just what they were, nerves. She could see that now. Hyper-organized by nature, she hated to find any stray thread hanging from the fabric of a deal. But this one she could legitimately let go. “Thank you, Chuck.”

“Thank you, Izzy. Anything else I can help with?”

Her phone signaled an incoming call. A quick look confirmed this time it was Trace. “Nope. I’m good. That’s Trace on the other line, so…”

“Take care. Talk soon.” Chuck, God bless him, knew how to get out of the way.

She hit the button to end and accept. “Hi.”

“Hey.”

The one word greeting, delivered in Trace’s deep baritone, had the tight bud in her stomach loosening to give way to a whole butterfly garden’s worth of blooms. “I’ve been invited to a slumber party.”

His laugh launched another batch of butterflies. “You have a standing invitation to a slumber party. Just tell me where and when, and I’ll make all the necessary arrangements.”

“Not with you, my dear client. Bridget told me you’re staying in Anchorage tonight and invited me out to the house for dinner and drinks with her and Lilah. She suggested I pack a bag and spend the night, so I don’t have to drive back to the inn. I’m probably not going to do that, but I won’t do dinner and drinks either, if it makes you uncomfortable for any reason. I’ll come up with an excuse and skip it.”

“Not at all. Go. Enjoy yourself. Think of me, alone and lonely here in Anchorage, while you girls are watching a Magic Mike double header and drinking every time some dude takes his pants off…or whatever you do at a slumber party.”

“Sounds like you have a pretty good idea.”

He laughed. “I’ve had a sister most of my life. Are you comfortable driving the Yukon?”

“Sure. I drive an SUV at home, so the size won’t throw me, the roads are clear, and I know the way from the airfield to the inn pretty well by now.”

“Awesome. There’s a spare key in my desk drawer. Help yourself.”

She opened the narrow drawer front and center under the desktop and found the key. “Got it. Enjoy your lonely night in Anchorage.”

“I won’t, but it’s better than doing two round trips in less than twenty-four hours. Hey, Izzy?”

“What?” She could see her stupid smile reflected in the screen of her laptop.

“Feel free to bunk down in my bed. Call me if you need a bedtime story. Oh, and if you need a better sex toy than that dinky thing you brought…”

He had sex toys? What kind of sex toys?

“…you’ll have to wait ’til I get home. I could be back and ready to be of service by nine or so.”

Her erogenous zones jumped at the suggestion. Her brain, however, hit the brakes. “That’s the best offer I’ve had since the last offer you made, but I’m afraid the answer is still no.”

“You may change your mind after the bedtime story. It so happens I tell a really good bedtime story.” His voice dropped a note as he spoke, and the words vibrated through her like prelude of things to come—literally.

“You’re awfully confident.”

“On this point, yes, I am. In fact, I’ll issue you a personal guarantee. With your head on my pillow and my voice in your ear, I’ll give you the best bedtime story you’ve had in a year and leave no fingerprints in the process. That wouldn’t violate your precious ethics, would it?”

She wanted to laugh—and cry. “I think that might violate the spirit of the code, if not the letter. I’d have to do some research.”

“You do that, Izzy. Research it.” His voice brimmed with amusement. “Then call me tonight and let me know what you learn.”

This man. Despite herself, she felt her lips curve. “Trace, I can honestly say you’re my most persistent client. Bye for now.”

“Bye, Izzy. Look forward to talking with to you tonight.”