Excuse me, she said, and got up to follow Mutt. Auntie Balasha‘s color heightened at their approach, but she smiled at the young man as she put his change in his hand. There, authentic Native dress perfect present for girlfriend. You come back for present for your mother and your auntie sometime, too, okay?

The young man mumbled his thanks and took himself off.

Ha, Mutt, Auntie Balasha said, and looked up to meet Kate‘s eyes. Katya. Hi, Auntie, Kate said. On closer examination the drapes of fabric resolved themselves into kuspuks, essentially a Yupik hoodie in various lengths worn by both sexes and more often of late by Alaska Natives of all tribes. To the educated eye they bore distinct signs of having been mass-produced. There were only three different fabric patterns and the rickrack had evidently been a bulk purchase because it was the same on every sleeve edge and hem. Each one conformed to the same minimalist design with no skirts and no pouch pockets. You‘re making and selling kuspuks?

Auntie Balasha, her color still high, gave a defiant nod, and Kate realized with something of a shock that she was embarrassed to have been caught out in midenterprise. Young mens want Alaska presents for their womens, Auntie Balasha said. So I make kuspuks.

How much you charging? Kate said.

Hundred dollars each.

Kate was impressed. All right, Auntie, she said, in a tone she tried to make admiring rather than condemnatory. First Auntie Vi, now Auntie Balasha. Handmade, Auntie Balasha said.

So I see.

Authentic Alaska Native souvenir.

It sure is.

Made in Alaska by Alaska Native.

No question about that.

Auntie Balasha, relieved, relaxed into a confidential mood. I give Laurel ten dollar each sale for table rent. She leaned forward and said in a lowered voice, I talk to Thor. Maybe we open gift shop in town. She beamed past Kate. Ha, young man, you like?

Kate allowed herself to be elbowed aside and returned to the booth, sliding in next to Jim. What‘s going on? he said.

Bloody Mary over there is taking the sailors for all they‘ve got.

Dan craned his neck to look. What‘s she selling, quilts? Oh, I see, kuspuks. He sat back. I should pick up a couple of those for my mom and my sister. You absolutely should, Kate said. He was looking over her shoulder, and she looked around and saw Holly Haynes sitting at the counter in front of a half-eaten patty melt and a mug of coffee, the mug featuring the current NNA logo, which at this distance looked like a kindergartner‘s finger painting. Kate tried not to wince at the sight, instead exchanging a nod with Haynes, who nodded back. There was a man she didn‘t know sitting next to Haynes in conversation with Demetri Totemoff sitting next to him, but the rest of the café‘s clientele were young men in their twenties, scruffy and none too clean, loud of voice and rough of manner. They had money and they were determined to spend it, even if the only places in Niniltna to spend it were the Riverside Café, which didn‘t serve alcohol, Bingley‘s one-room store, which did not sell alcohol, and the gift shop located mostly on a corner shelf in the post office, which didn‘t ship alcohol. There was no road from the mine to Niniltna and Suulutaq picked up an employee‘s airfare only when they were changing shifts, every two weeks. Since the snow had melted and the ground dried out, four-wheelers had been sprouting like weeds from Niniltna to the Roadhouse. Kate had dark suspicions as to where the vehicles had sprouted from, most of them involving Howie Katelnikof.