Diamond Dust by Vivian Arend

there are times I agree with you one hundred percent, only this one is important. It’s not just people acting bigger than their britches, which is what I think you called politics when you were young. It’s conclave, Frank. If I don’t take it seriously, our people could get hurt.”
    His brother stopped playing with the automatic windows, returning his focus onto Tyler. “I hear you. Which is why I decided I should come after all.”
    Tyler had wondered about Frank’s presence in town. “When I didn’t see you in Dawson City, I figured you were too far into the bush to make it. Or tangled up with the strange illness that swept the north. I’m glad you’re okay.”
    “Me too.” Frank widened his smile, relaxing back in the seat. “I’m here to enjoy the good parts while you get to do the hard labour. Sounds like a wonderful distribution of work.”
    Tyler laughed. “We each have talents. Use them as necessary.”
    Frank nodded. “Speaking of talents, I’ve been thinking. This whole brouhaha —formal, you say?”
    “Very.”
    “You need a bit of help.” Frank leaned forward. “You need to know how to read these people, and who to impress, right?”
    Diplomacy was what Tyler was good at, but he wasn’t about to boast to his brother. Maybe Frank wanted to assist in the mediations. If he behaved it could work to their advantage. Frank wasn’t the kind of bear anyone wanted to piss off unintentionally. Nearly seven feet of quick-tempered brute? Tyler and Justin were big, but Frank was in a class all his own.
    “You want to join me?”
    Frank brayed out a laugh. “Ha. Are you fucking kidding me? I’d have the peace talks down to wrestling and blood before the hour was out, and you know it. No, gentle massaging of egos and shit—not for me, big bro. Not anymore.”
    If Frank wasn’t offering to help, Tyler was confused, but before he could get clarification, the ride was over. Justin pulled open the door and they crawled out, the Klondike Rib and Salmon Barbeque to their right. A long row of customers stood waiting to get in, the line wrapping around the corner and disappearing from sight.
    “Come on, we have reservations.” Frank cleared a path by simply pacing forward.
    Tyler eyed the restaurant as he excused himself to the patrons they were butting in front of. Frank had said the place was casual, but this was lower on the relaxed scale than he’d imagined. Two disproportional buildings were smooshed against each other. The larger one vaguely looked like a tent, as if the original Whitehorse-gold-rush settlers had slapped up four walls and raised canvas over the top to make themselves a shop.
    They paused inside the doors as the front desk staff cheered at the sight of Frank. Even the servers weaving between the tables with full hands grinned and called out greetings.
    “Your brother doesn’t give himself enough credit for knowing how to get along with people. He obviously has a way with them.” Justin stood at his back, speaking over Tyler’s shoulder as they waited for the spontaneous celebration to die down.
    “He’s only been here for one week. I can’t imagine.”
    Frank motioned them forward. Tyler nodded politely to the girl holding their menus, then followed his brother toward the end of the room.
    The tables ran in long rows, communal style. Red and green gingham tablecloths covered their surfaces, plastic ones, from what he could tell at a glance. The couple already seated at the far end of the table were digging into their food, plastic baskets with fake newsprint as their plates.
    Frank settled into his seat with a sigh of happiness. “I love this place.”
    “They seem to love you.” Tyler accepted the menu from the server. “How often have you been here in the past week?”
    His brother grinned. “Some of the pack brought me in for lunch the first day I was in town, and I’ve been back every day since. I’m working my way through the menu.”
    No wonder the restaurant