High Impact by Kim Baldwin

it a night. Karla, Chaz, and Megan all readily agreed, snatching their coats and bidding Emery good evening, after telling her what fun they’d had getting to know her. Geneva stayed put.
    “Whoever’s in town at six, we converge here every night for dinner,” Chaz told Emery. “Hope to see you again soon.”
    “Count on it,” Emery replied.
    “I’ll catch up with you,” Bryson told Karla and the others as they headed out, before turning to Emery. “Walk me to the door?”
    “Sure.”
    “Had an inspired idea about where to take you when we go out next.” Bryson had this I’ve-got-a-secret,Cheshire-cat grin, and her dark brown eyes, framed beneath the curved bill of her ball cap, narrowed in mischief.
    Emery was immediately hooked. “I trust your judgment implicitly after today, believe me. And you’ve sold me just with your expression. Where we heading?”
    “Well, since you say you trust me, I’d like to make it a surprise.” Bryson’s grin got bigger.
    “I guess I never told you that I hate surprises.” Bryson would have no idea what an understatement that was. “Usually, anyway. But if I know for sure it’ll be a good surprise, I can be very patient.” One could not go from shattered to walking again without endless patience and focused determination.
    “Oh, it’s very good,” Bryson told her. “A rare opportunity for an outsider. A friend owes me a favor.”
    What could it be? It involved someone else. One of the others from the group? Someone Bryson did business with? She’d read a couple of biographies of bush pilots on her iPhone during the last couple of weeks, just a taste of the literature she’d devoured in preparation for her long-awaited arrival here. If Bryson had been flying here for a quarter-century, she likely had met an enormous percentage of her territory’s population. Everyone flew. She’d probably transported them to homes, hospitals, and morgues. To births, weddings, celebrations, and funerals. Away for vacations, and away for good when the cold and the isolation became too much. She risked her life and was available in emergencies. So if Bryson needed to “collect on a favor,” Emery suspected she could call on hundreds, maybe thousands of people.
    Bryson probably seldom asked a friend for a favor. Solidly self-reliant, bright, and resourceful, she’d do it herself if she could, or pay to have it done, unless it was horribly expensive, ordinarily. Or perhaps it wasn’t for sale. What could it be?
    For Bryson to ask such a favor in order to give her a memorable experience told Emery volumes about how much Bryson had already become more her friend than her pilot. “Well, whatever it is, I know I’ll love it,” Emery said. “Can’t wait. And I can’t begin to thank you for going out of your way like this.”
    “No biggie. Checked my schedule and I have a few hours free tomorrow, if that’s not too soon. Say, ten o’clock?”
    “Awesome. Where’ll I meet you?”
    “Here is good. We can get some to-go lunch again.”
    “May not be able to sleep tonight, thinking about it.”
    “Oh, I bet you’ll have other things on your mind tonight.” Bryson looked past her, smiling at Geneva back at the booth. “Have fun.”

Chapter Eleven
     
    “What would you like to do?” Geneva caressed Emery’s arm as soon as she returned and slipped into the booth. “Nightcap? Walk? Something…” She moistened her lips. “More private?”
    The sun was still hours away from its brief dip below the horizon, and Emery wanted to tread slowly and carefully with Geneva. “It’s still early. How about a walk? Anything interesting nearby?”
    “I know just the thing.” Geneva slipped out of the booth and Emery followed. “Better grab your coat. And bring your camera.” As they headed up the stairs, she added, “Meet you outside in a few.” Then they split up to head to their respective rooms.
    Emery grabbed her coat and stuffed her daypack with her camera, gloves, a