She was feared still. Yet she had never been anything but kind to Petie, and Petie had her own reasons for doing the secret thing she had done. Now she had to find the nerve, and the right moment, to tell Miss Lee the truth.
As they bounced along the gravel road, Bradley asked in Quemadese, “The driver—does she understand us?”
“She’s American.” Miss Lee could not have sounded more bored.
“So am I, and I speak Quemadese.”
“So you do,” Miss Lee said.
“I’m getting better!” He was defensive. “I have a gift for languages!” And conceited.
“When you are not born on the islands, it is a difficult language, the distillation of more than five hundred years of varied European, African and American cultures.” Miss Lee had been born on the islands. Located near the equator, from the time of Isla Quemada’s fifteenth-century discovery by the Spanish, the primary island and the smaller islands had been a shipping crossroads and a haven for the dispossessed. Since Quemada won its independence in 1977, they had welcomed tourists who enjoyed luxury and natural beauty, and more important for Miss Lee, the islands proved a haven for corporations like Cardinal Electronics.
During the winters, Petie had enjoyed online explorations of Quemada. As the wind howled and the snow blew sideways, she imagined herself in a cottage above a white sand beach, basking in sun and breeze.
Someday...
In a self-congratulatory tone, Bradley said, “It’s good for me to be able to communicate in the dialect.”
Dialect? Petie wouldn’t have phrased it quite like that.
“This driver does look Asian.” Bradley didn’t know how to say Asian in Quemadese, so it came out in clear English.
“Asian. Really.” Petie could feel Miss Lee’s gaze on her profile.
“Maybe Chinese. It’s her skin. Good color, nice texture.” His tone was patronizing enough to make Petie’s teeth grind.
“I hadn’t noticed,” Miss Lee said.
“And her hair. Black and straight. But that braid!” He laughed as if Petie’s choice of style amused him.
Petie looked into the rearview mirror and met Miss Lee’s low-lidded gaze.
Miss Lee shrugged. “American. Lots of different ancestors. Like you. So what?”
Petie had never actually spoken Quemadese to Jeen Lee, but somehow Miss Lee figured out that Petie spoke a little and understood more.
“Miss Lee, industrial spies lurk everywhere.”
Bradley’s instructional tone irritated Petie, and she aimed the vehicle at a particularly deep pothole and hit it straight on.
Miss Lee swayed with the motion.
Bradley’s head hit the window. He grabbed the ceiling strap and said in English, “You! Driver! Watch where you’re going. I’ll have you fired!”
Fired? Really? Would he try?
Miss Lee seemed not to notice his little tantrum. In Quemadese, she said, “I’ve been coming here seven summers. This person, this Petie, has been here every year. I’ve spoken freely in front of her in many languages, and not a hint of my business has been released.”
That was true. Petie didn’t tell anyone what Miss Lee said about upcoming breakthroughs, but through Hawley, Petie had nonetheless acted on them. As she would act on this one involving their new chip.
Every year, Jeen Lee was the camp’s first guest of the season. Last week, she had arrived to make sure the preparations for her team-building retreat had been done to her specifications. When she was satisfied, she took personal time to hike Denali, then returned in time to greet her employees.
Earlier today, as her crew of professionals arrived and dispersed among the camp’s rooms and cabins, Miss Lee had introduced two young women as her attendants, Matella and Tziamara. She explained they would care for her needs. The lodge would provide fresh linens, but Matella and Tziamara would make up her rooms—further proof that Miss Lee was a very private person.
As Petie pulled up to the entrance to the Katchabiggie Lodge and stopped, Miss Lee said, “We will speak later, Bradley.” She moved smoothly to open the door and get out on the front steps. She seemed always to be practicing tai chi: graceful, controlled, focused.
Bradley slid all the way across the seat, leaped out and hopped.
“Magnificent, isn’t it?” Jeen Lee gestured around them.
The snowy mountains cupped the valley and fed the river that rushed with cold, green water. The forest, the part that had shown the incredible brilliance to grow away from the river’s reach, stood smugly verdant.
The whole world smelled of timeless conifers and this year’s spring: cool, invigorating, glorious in its fresh splendor.
“Great,” Bradley said in English. “Is there a casino?”
Petie foresaw difficulties for the resort, and even more for him. “No.” She got his bags out of the back. “You have a room in the lodge.”
Miska hurried down from the wide porch.
“If you’d place Mr. Copeland’s bags in his room, please,” Petie instructed.
“Sure!” Miska saluted. This was his first US job, and he was anxious to accommodate her. It was well-known among the staff that Hawley had turned all day-to-day tasks over to her, and she held power over the staff.
“Where are you staying?” Bradley asked Miss Lee.
“I have a cabin.” The best cabin, with two bedrooms and two baths and a sitting room with a small conference table for those moments when Miss Lee wanted to speak privately to an employee.
Clearly, he didn’t like that. If she had a cabin, he wanted one, too, and the demand trembled on his lips.
Miss Lee looked at him, and Petie knew how cool that gaze could be.
Bradley turned to Petie. “Do you have a cabin?”
“Yes. A small, private cabin.” She met his eyes. “At the back of the property in the staff housing.”
“Oh.” Bradley lost interest.
“Mr. Foggo likes to greet his guests in person. If you would follow me...” Petie led them into the lodge, through the Great Room, behind the check-in desk and into Hawley’s office.
The first thing one noticed about Hawley Foggo was his height, six foot five, and his weight, which was... Petie didn’t care to speculate. All she knew was, every autumn Hawley disappeared from Alaska, and every spring when he came back, his wide face was deeply tanned, and the tan disappeared beneath his starched collar and artfully painted tie. In the winter when she spent too much time alone, she could imagine him sprawled on a beach in the South Pacific, a corpulent island god with a fire hidden deep in his belly.