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take our lads away to America with you. Do ye hear?”
    Several of the older women nodded their heads in agreement. Bonnie gave a loud harrumph. Maggie looked nonplussed and her sisters looked defeated.
    This is a nightmare.
Kit moved closer to the crowd, though facing the storm outside seemed the safer choice.
    As alienated as she felt, she wanted to tell them she’d come in peace. Nothing like this had happened in Alaska. There had been a few hardheaded bachelors, but never a community ready to crucify her for just pulling into town. She better do something before the lynching began.
    She nodded to Deydie and put her hand up to get their attention. “I assure you, your concerns are unfounded.” She made certain to give Bonnie and Maggie eye contact. “I have no plans to take any of your men away from Gandiegow. In fact, I won’t be pairing them with any of my clients from the U.S.”
    â€œWhat?” said one of the fishermen from the back wall. Indeed, the fishermen looked ready to rebel. There was a low-pitched rumble as they groused among themselves.
    Kit held her hand up for silence. “I only want to base my operation out of Gandiegow because the town is centrally located for my recruitment needs.”
    â€œWhy?” Deydie said. “Our lads aren’t good enough for ye?”
    More rumbles rolled out from the back. Even the females were getting into the heat of it. Kit wondered whether they would pull out the tar and feathers next.
    A brilliant idea popped into her brain. One that shouldappease the majority of the crowd. She’d planned to host her mixers in either Edinburgh or Glasgow. But desperate times called for desperate measures.
    Kit put her hand up once again. “But what I would like to do is to have my mixers right here in your town.”
    â€œWhat’s a mixing?” asked Deydie.
    â€œA
mixer
is where I bring the men and the women together. That is if Gandiegow can accommodate such an event.” This would be Kit’s out.
    Deydie’s eyes took on a shrewd gleam. Kit got the feeling that the negotiations were just beginning. “Ye would have to make it worth our while.”
    And Kit felt her checkbook being cleared of its balance as well. “What do you propose?” Reward never came without risk.
    â€œAye, we can accommodate this mixing thing, as ye say. We have the restaurant’s grand dining room. Right, Dominic and Claire?”
    A couple in the middle of the room waved. “There’s plenty of room,” the strawberry blonde said.
    â€œWe’d be happy to cater it,” the dark-haired man beside her agreed.
    â€œYere American lasses can stay in one of the quilting dorms,” Deydie said.
    â€œFor a fee, of course,” Kit mumbled under her breath.
    Deydie proved her wrong, though. “The lasses can stay free on one condition.”
    â€œAnd that would be?”
    The old woman grinned. “They would all have to sign up for a quilting retreat.”

Chapter Three
    W
hat?
Kit valued quilts—especially the one that had been her grandmother’s—but she doubted her clients knew very much about the craft. “I don’t know if any of them can sew.”
    Deydie bobbed her head up and down. “We’ll teach them. Won’t we, ladies?”
    Several
ayes
went up from the crowd.
    What had Kit gotten herself into? Even more pressing, what had she gotten her socialite clients into?
    Kit knew the rich well, having grown up wealthy. She had been setting up her friends on dates since boarding school, because she had a knack for seeing who belonged with whom. Up until her father died, she had matched people for free. But to finish college and to help support her family, she began charging for her services. And her friends willingly paid. Word spread and Kit’s reputation as a reliable matchmaker had grown, as did her client base. But what would her clients think