Starry Night

already spent hours going over every type of record she could think to research from Alaska, to no avail. Carrie glanced at the time, even though this talk was helping her generate ideas of where to continue looking for the mysterious Mr. Dalton.
    “From what I remember, a lot of men left their wives and families for the attraction of big money.”
    “I could start looking at the employment records for the pipeline from that time period and see what I find,” Carrie said.
    “That’s a terrific idea. And listen, when you find Finn Dalton, make sure your dad gets a chance to chat with him, would you?”
    “I can’t promise that.” First she’d need to convince Finn Dalton to talk to her!
    “Just do your best.”
    “I’ll do what I can.”
    “Bye, sweetie.”
    “Bye, Mom.” Carrie ended the call and dumped her cell in her small bag. After a quick glance in the hallway mirror, she headed out the door to what she hoped would be one of the very last social events she would ever need to cover.

Chapter Two

    This had to be Finn Dalton’s mother. It simply had to be. From the moment Nash had given Carrie what seemed like the impossible assignment of interviewing Finn, she’d looked for out-of-the-box ways to locate him. Her mother’s mention of work on the Alaskan pipeline and that many of those employed came from Washington State had led to a breakthrough. At least she hoped so. The search led Carrie to the birth record for a Finnegan Paul Dalton, not in Alaska but in her own birth state of Washington. That record revealed his mother’s name—Joan Finnegan Dalton—which then led to a divorce decree, along with a license for a second marriage several years later. Tax records indicated that Joan, whose married name was now Reese, continued to reside in Washington State. Her hopewas that Joan Dalton Reese would be willing to help Carrie find Finn.
    The November wind and rain whipped against her as she walked up the short pathway to the single-family house in Kent, a suburb south of Seattle.
    Nerves made Carrie tense as she rang the doorbell and waited. After a few moments, she heard footsteps on the other side of the door. The woman who opened it didn’t look to be much older than her own mother.
    “Joan Finnegan Dalton Reese?” Carrie asked.
    The petite, dark-haired woman blinked warily, and her eyes widened as if she wasn’t sure what to think. “Yes?”
    “By chance are you related to Finnegan Paul Dalton?”
    She didn’t answer right away, and then her gaze narrowed. “You’re another one of those reporters, aren’t you?”
    “Yes, I—”
    Joan started to close the door, but Carrie quickly inserted her foot, stopping her.
    The two women stared hard at each other. “Yes, I’m a reporter, but I’m hoping you’ll hear me out.”
    “Why should I?” she demanded, and crossed her arms over her chest.
    Carrie frantically searched for something that would convince the other woman to talk to her. “I can’t think of a single reason other than the fact that I’m tired of writing forthe society page. I gave up spending time with my family over Thanksgiving with the hope that I could get this interview, and I think you have an incredible son, and I’d very much like to meet and interview him.”
    The delicate woman looked undecided. “What do you mean you write for the society page?”
    Carrie explained how she’d taken a few of her precious vacation days and flown to Seattle. It’d been a risk, but one she was willing to take. This would be the first year she’d missed the holiday with her parents, aunts, uncles, and cousins. Although it would be a sacrifice, her parents understood that if she did manage to interview Finn Dalton, then she would have her pick of writing assignments, and not just in Chicago, but perhaps in the Pacific Northwest. “I want to move back to Seattle to be closer to my family, and this is my chance.”
    Joan eyed her carefully, and then, after what seemed like an eternity, she slowly opened the door, silently inviting Carrie inside.
    “Thank you,” she whispered. “Thank you so much.” Stepping out of the cold, Carrie instantly felt the warm flow of air surround her. She noticed a bronze pumpkin off to the right and a doll-sized set of pilgrims on the dining room table.
    Joan motioned toward the living room. “How much do you know about my son?”
    Carrie sat on the edge of the sofa cushion, unsure how best to answer. She could attempt to bluff or she