Welcome to Elfin Cove

Virginia

The seat belt lights flash above our heads, and the flight attendant walks down the aisle one last time to check on us before she, too, prepares for landing. Will pats my thigh. "Take a deep breath. We'll be on the ground soon."

He's got it wrong, though. I don't mind flying. The real reason I'm feeling so tense is because I let myself be persuaded to do this job in the first place and we'll be landing in Juneau, Alaska, in just a few minutes.

The knot in my stomach has been there ever since it became clear that I really was going on this trip. It's refused to go away, and now it's getting even tighter.

Is it a premonition or just plain fear? I don't want this plane to land. I don't want to have to face all the questions about my past that could catch up with me here, and I wonder if the plane would just take me right back to New York if I decide I'm not getting off. With a jolt, the Boeing descends through the cloud cover we've been flying through since our stopover in Seattle, and the sight now presenting itself to me makes me inch closer to the window.

It's the Pacific, glistening in the sunlight. Ships of all different sizes are visible as gray and white specks on the almost black surface of the water, which becomes lighter and lighter toward the coast. It doesn't look that different from Vancouver Island, I think. Houses stretch along the coastline, but beyond them, all I can make out is forest as far as the eye can see. A dense, dark, green wilderness. Snowcapped mountains loom on the horizon, and still more clouds, thick and white, cut a wide swath through the eternal green, like a river of cotton.

"Awesome, isn't it?" Will has leaned over close to me, and he's beaming. "That's one of the many fjords in Alaska. There are thousands of islands, rivers and lakes, too. Almost looks like where the hobbits live, doesn't it? Like a dream."

"Hobbits?" I give him a blank stare.

"You know, hobbits! Middle-earth? Lord of the Rings?"

I wave a hand. Yeah, yeah. I know what hobbits are. Some of the girls at my boarding school practically inhaled those books, but I preferred to keep my feet on the ground, rather than escape into fantasy worlds. After all, I'd learned early on that stuff like that wasn't going to get me very far.

We fly over a hill. A patchwork of fields and the outskirts of a town appear below us, but they're quickly replaced by water. The plane is now so low that I hold my breath for a moment. Where's the runway?

But a second later, I see green grass again, and we're already floating above gray tarmac. The roar of the engine changes pitch, there's a brief wobble, and then we feel solid ground under the wheels.

"Touchdown!" Will shouts, clapping his hands. "Welcome to Alaska!"

"That thing's going to crash."

"Oh, stop it." Will's annoyed at me. After twenty-four hours of constant grumbling from me, we've actually made it. And to be honest, I can barely listen to myself anymore. I'm standing on a pier with my arms crossed in front of my chest, while my friend and colleague heaves his camera equipment out of the taxi and piles it up next to me. How much luggage do they actually allow in a seaplane? I wonder.

I frown at the small yellow and white aircraft in front of me as it gently rocks on the waves. Meanwhile, with its engines howling, another plane approaches from out over the ocean. It's an impressive sight, getting closer and closer to the dark expanse of the water, before its floats make contact with the surface, sending up a wave of white spray.

My cell phone rings. I rummage in my handbag - where exactly is it?

A group of tourists next to us can't stop admiring the views and taking photos. I hear them gushing about the incredibly vast sky, the mysterious swirls of mist hanging over the forests on the other side of the water and what a relief it is to have finally escaped the big city. My eyes track it all too, but my heart is numb, and my nerves are on edge. I feel like crying. I can't believe I'm in Alaska.

I find my cell phone and yank it up to my ear before the caller hangs up. "Hello?"

"Virginia? Am I disturbing you? What's that droning sound in the background?"

"Oh, that's just an airplane, Sebastian." I shield the phone with my hand and turn toward the harbor, beyond which the buildings of Juneau stretch up to the hills. A pretty small place for the capital of such a huge state. What a surprise.

"Any news?" I say.

"Absolutely! Virginia, we have a buyer! If you agree to the offer, we can sell within a month."

I can sell, I silently correct him. I can. Just because Sebastian has represented my family and the company in legal matters for what feels like decades, it still doesn't make him part of it.

"Is the offer within the expected range?" I ask.

"Absolutely!"

I roll my eyes. That really is his favorite word.

"We should go for it, Virginia. When can you come to Victoria?"

If only he knew how close I am to him right now. "I'm away on business, Sebastian. I'll be in touch as soon as I get back, alright? Feel free to e-mail me the details. See you soon!" I hang up and let the air out of my puffed-up cheeks.

In the expected range. I've been looking for a buyer for three years now, ever since Grandma died. Or rather, Sebastian has been looking. Our relationship may be a little chilly, but I'm still grateful to have him. Remaining loyal to my grandparents beyond the grave, he takes care of the company's affairs for me. I told him I wanted nothing to do with it and promised him a handsome share of the sale price in return.

"Hey." Will puts his arm around my shoulders and pulls me close. "Everything alright? Who was that?"

"Sebastian. Guess what - someone's interested! If this works out, in a few weeks I could finally be free!"

"Well, that does sound like good news! But don't forget me when you're rich, okay?" He pats me on my side. "Now give me a smile. It's not so bad here, is it?"

Sighing, I let my head sink against his chest. "Thanks, Will."

"For what, honeybun?"

"For putting up with me."

With a gentle laugh, he pulls me close and plants a kiss on the top of my head. "That's alright. I have strong shoulders, and they're available for you to cry on at any time. Just keep looking forward. And will you please smile now?"

Overcome with gratitude, I wrap my arms around him. I don't know what I would've done without Will over the last few months. He's a true friend.

Dragging my suitcase behind me, I follow him down the pier to the plane, which has the number forty-three emblazoned on the door. The pilot, a slightly stocky man of average height with gray hair and an airline baseball cap, is standing on one of the floats, cleaning the window. Whistling a tune to himself, he lovingly rubs the cloth over the glass in a circular motion.

"Excuse me, sir!" Will calls out. "Elfin Cove?"

My gaze wanders over the red-and-black checkered flannel shirt the man is wearing and lingers on his legs, which are encased in olive-green rubber boots that reach up to his thighs. His matching suspenders - or rather, long straps, in this case - are tied to a belt slung loosely around his hips. Lumberjack thigh-highs, I think to myself. With garters.

"Go ahead and laugh, ma'am. When we land, you'll wish you had such fine legwear." His blue eyes flash with amusement as he hauls himself up to the gangplank and holds out his big, hairy paw to me. "Hi, I'm Mac. Your chauffeur into the wilderness."

"Sorry," I mutter, feeling my cheeks flush.

But Mac waves it off with a laugh. "No big deal, darling. So, you two want to go to Elfin Cove? Then climb into my sweet Betty! Wait, I'll help you with your luggage."

Betty? That's when I spot the airbrushed image of a pinup girl with red curls and a pilot's cap on the back of the plane, and my misgivings are replaced with confidence. No wonder the old dude was wielding his cleaning rag as if he was polishing some precious gem. He obviously loves his Betty very much, which makes me stop worrying about going down somewhere over this dense, green hell. If he loves Betty, he wants to keep her safe. At least, I imagine so.

Despite my newfound courage, I still feel for Will's hand once everything is stowed on board and the propeller sputters and hisses into action.

"Are you ready?" Mac asks through our headphones.

Will gives the thumbs-up, and we back out. A seaplane like this one gives the impression of being pretty maneuverable, although the slight rocking motion reminds me more of a boat. My traveling companion squeezes my hand as we cruise toward the middle of the fjord, but I wonder if he's actually just trying to calm himself down - he usually gets sick on boats. Mac gives the plane more thrust.

Suddenly feeling flustered, I look around frantically, but as the plane loses contact with the water and climbs higher and higher, I realize to my great surprise that it's not fear that's making my heart race - it's anticipation. Excitement. Maybe even a hint of fascination. It's all so overwhelming!

The boats and houses below us are shrinking rapidly, and the Pacific Ocean appears before us. Our flight takes us along the coast, over countless islands just off the...