28

THERE WERE EIGHTEEN for dinner, Christine had planned for ten only. At the last minute she had had to serve buffet-fashion a dinner which had not been designed for this informality. Even the after-dinner conversation around the fire, usually so stimulating at Territory dinner parties, turned out to be rambling, aimless, what with the entire company’s efforts to work over Bayard Husack, who, according to mukluk grapevine rumor, was incredibly slated to be the next Governor of Alaska.

“There’ll be ten for dinner,” Chris had said, “not counting Grampa Thor, he’s just coming in for a minute after dinner.”

“He’ll come in for a minute and speechify all night. What’s got into him! The way he behaved this noon with the General there and all those Seattle Big Bugs. They’ve always said we’re nothing but wild Indians here in Alaska. They’ll use it against us. The way they did that Washington fracas.”

“Bridie, I’m worried about him. He does all those spectacular things, I spoke to him about it after the luncheon and he said there isn’t time any more to be just patient and polite. And he looks so thin, so almost wasted. Today when I took hold of his arm—it’s always been like a column of iron—there just wasn’t anything there.”

“It’s his living alone in that little shack. Men don’t eat right when they live alone.”

“He’s lived like that most of his life.”

“He’s just getting older. Aren’t we all! I’ve just begun to realize it myself. Here in the Territory they keep yelling about how young they are and how young everybody is, and how young everyone has to be to keep what they call the pace, like it was some special gift. I suppose it is a gift, being young, but it isn’t special. We’ve all got it, early in life. The thing is, it slips away from you when you’re not looking. What’re you having for dinner? Here it is, middle of the afternoon, how are you going to scrabble food together for a crowd?”

“Addie’s coming in to help. And the Toklat girl is going to help serve and wash dishes.”

“I’ll pitch in. I’ll dress early and get over here. What time did you say?”

“Eight.”

“Eight!”

“Bay and Dina are used to late dinners. Anyway, I can’t help it.”

“What you having?”

“An all-Alaska menu.”

“They’ll hate it.”

“Not this. Alaska smoked salmon first, with the drinks. Then a caribou broil, parsley and butter sauce—–”

“Tough.”

“The steaks are marinating now in oil and vinegar.”

“I want to see that Dina Drake’s face when she hears it’s caribou. If all belonging to you were dead you’d still have to laugh, I bet.”

“Home-grown Alaska potatoes, Harvard beets, rhubarb-and-cranberry relish, salad, ice cream with frozen strawberries. Every bit of it grown right here in Alaska. Coffee around the fire.”

“Home-grown too, I suppose.”

“Now, Bridie, don’t be cranky.”

“All that to do between now and eight! Why you want to run yourself ragged cooking for those two I can’t see.”