10
Julie blinked at the pilot of the third plane they’d chartered like she couldn’t understand basic English. “What do you mean ‘it won’t fit’?”
She glanced from the open side door of the plane to the pile of supplies still needing loaded as a frigid gust of wind whipped her braid against her cheek. She glanced at the stormy sky building to the southwest. This couldn’t be happening. She’d done the calculations four times, and, with the winter weather system closing in fast, they didn’t have time to mess around.
“You have too much stuff.” The pilot waved his hands at the supplies still needing to be loaded.
“I was told I had eighteen thousand pounds, including people.” Keeping her voice even stretched her already thin patience.
“Right. You’re over. Too fat, honey.” He scanned her up and down and winked at her.
Blowing up at the man wouldn’t help. Thank goodness Saylor had gone up with the first plane to make sure the base headquarters set-up was going as planned. She’d already have the man whimpering for his mommy, especially since she was already on edge because of the whole Gunnar thing.
Julie forced herself not to look at Gunnar. Not because her possible miscalculation embarrassed her, but because he looked horrible. She’d never, not in all the years she’d known him growing up, would have called him small or frail.
Gladiator? Yes.
Put the statue of David to shame? Absolutely.
Why on this day of all days did he have to be under the weather? Something about the way he held his body when he arrived that morning and the way he’d functioned all day on vacant autopilot gave Julie the impression that he could break. It wasn’t comforting, knowing in a matter of days they’d be relying on each other to get across the constantly moving Arctic sea ice.
Mason thought Gunnar was the better person for the team? Julie closed her eyes and let out a slow breath. Of course he was. Even operating at subpar levels, Gunnar would always outperform her.
Didn’t mean she had to dwell on that or worry about if he was okay. She pushed her shoulders back and channeled her best Saylor impression. Well, maybe not her best. She could never be as forceful as her cousin. More like a toned-down version, but it had to work on this pilot who was changing the rules.
“I’m not overweight. I’ve weighed everything twice.” Julie crossed her arms over her chest.
“Sorry, honey. Scales don’t lie. You’re two thousand, nine hundred and thirty-seven pounds over. But don’t worry, I can have another plane here in about an hour.” The jerk was trying to hustle them.
The downright dirty weasel.
Julie looked away, her anxiety making her fingers numb. How was she going to fix this? They didn’t have time to find a different airline, not with the storm blowing in, and even if they did, few companies up here had a big plane like the stripped-down Hawker Siddeley HS 748 this guy had. It was the reason they’d gone with him in the first place. But she didn’t want to pay the guy more than they already had.
She rubbed her two fingers up the bridge of her nose to ease the headache building. A touch on her elbow caused her to jump. Gunnar’s forehead crinkled in hurt before he smoothed it.
“Can I talk to you?” He tipped his head back to the hangar.
“Yeah.” She followed him to the building, trying not to worry about how every step he took looked like he carried the weight of the world on his broad shoulders and it was more than he could handle.
When they got out of the wind, Gunnar turned to her. He glanced at her face, winced, then jerked his attention to the supplies on the tarmac. What the heck was that about? Julie crossed her arms to keep her bruised heart from shuddering. His expressions shouldn’t matter anyway, not that her heart got the memo.
“Listen, I have a friend that has a Twin Otter. I texted him, and he can be here in twenty.” Gunnar looked at her now, hesitation in his eyes. “That is, if you want him to. We could also re-weigh everything. Prove this jerk is pulling one over on us.”
Her head was shaking before he even finished what he was saying. “There isn’t time to re-weigh, not with the storm blowing in. Thank your friend for coming and helping.”
He nodded once, then marched into the hangar to make the call. She sighed, both in relief and resignation that Gunnar once again came to the rescue. Now, to let the weasel know he wasn’t getting another cent from them.
She approached the pilot, anticipation of his reaction making her heart pound. This guy was trying to cheat them. She shouldn’t worry about creating conflict, not with him. Ugh, would she always be such a pushover?
“You can go ahead with the load you have. We’ve hired another plane that can be here in twenty.” She watched his reaction.
His eyes widened in shock, then narrowed in anger.
“We’ll call ahead to the team already in Utqiagvik to make sure they’re waiting for you at the airstrip to unload.” She rushed on, glad Saylor, Mason, Clark, and Sunny had flown the dogs up earlier that morning.
“Fine,” the pilot ground out, stomping up the loading ramp. “Pull the stairs away.”
He motioned to her with a flick of his wrist. Rolling her eyes, she rushed to the stairs and leaned into them. The wind blew against them, and, with the slick tarmac, she had trouble getting enough force behind her to move them. Gunnar nudged her sideways, bracing his shoulder against one corner. Coming to the rescue again.