“No way.” She makes a face. “I had to man the lodge just in case. Plus, I’m a better reader than skier.”
I laugh. “Did Jim get out at all?”
Kate shakes her head. “Nope. He was working with Carmen Sanchez, and you know what a diva pop star she is. She tried to go into town, and that was chaos. Instead, they ended up at the chateau all weekend, and Jim and his team still dealt with people trying to scale walls. They had to prevent several break-ins.”
I shake my head. “Yuck. He must have been in a great mood when he got home.”
“He’s still not back to normal. He hates those assignments, but you know him…” She shrugs. “He won’t give out crappy work if he won’t do it himself.”
“I bet he missed the billionaires,” I muse.
“They’re no picnic either, but that is a little less pressure. Sure, they come with paparazzi and the occasional stalker, but Carmen’s fans were intense and determined.”
Jim sidles up to Kate, puts his arm around her waist, and kisses her temple. “Are you telling him about Aspen?”
“Sounds like that was not a lot of fun,” I offer.
He shakes his head. “We had a team of twenty-five guys, plus the local sheriff’s office, and that wasn’t nearly enough.”
“Man, Tahoe was better than that, even with the avalanche.”
Jim chuckles as Bash and his wife, Fiona, join us.
“What did you guys do for Thanksgiving?” I take a deep pull on my beer.
“We did some work with Jackson and Corrine in Maui,” Bash explains. “It was really tough. We had the guest house to ourselves for ten whole days.”
Jackson and Corinne Graham own a sizable estate above the cliffs on the western side of the island. I roll my eyes. “That sounds like a rough assignment.”
Fiona nods. “It actually was. My morning sickness is rough right now.”
I look at her, eyes wide. “You’re pregnant?”
She and Bash are all grins as they nod. “We are,” they say in unison.
I give Fiona a big hug. “That’s fantastic. I’m so thrilled for you. Clay is a great name if it’s a boy.”
“We’ll add it to the list,” she says. “But don’t be offended if we go with a good Irish name instead.”
“O’Clay works, too.”
That makes her laugh.
When she’s recovered, I ask, “When is your due date?”
“Middle of July. We’re just beginning to tell people. I had to tell Corrine because I kept getting sick, and I was sure she thought I was drinking too much. The only thing I could keep down were the pineapple pancakes her house manager makes.”
“I’ve never had them, but they are legendary.” I turn to Jim. “If I’m not on call the next time you go to Hawaii, I hope you’ll consider sending me to Maui. I can be more than a doctor.”
Gage comes over with his wife, Stella. “I bet you’re wishing you’d come with us to Portland for Thanksgiving,” she says, giving me a hug.
I shake my head. “Not a chance. Your mom’s reputation precedes her.”
“She really is a wonderful woman,” Gage offers. “She just falls in love often.”
That gets everyone snickering. I met her at their wedding last year, and she was very flirtatious. She’s sweet but a little too friendly.
We hear about Gage and Stella’s trip home with their four girls—the definition of chaos. But Stella is a great mom and manages the office at Clear Security the same way she does their home—with a firm grip.