A booth emptied out in the Riverside Café as they walked in and they scooted into it just ahead of a couple of young men Kate had never seen before. Mutt’s unblinking yellow gaze might have had something to do with the perceptible pause in their rivals’ step. She waited for her humans to take their seats, and then trotted past them. Kate turned to see her heading for Auntie Balasha, who was sitting alone at a corner table with bright fabric draped over the other three chairs. She was making change out of a gray metal cash box for a young man holding a recycled grocery bag through which thin plastic Kate could see more bright fabric.

“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, and 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 mid-enterprise. “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, grinning.

“Hand made,” 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 relaxed into a confidential mood. “I give Laurel ten dollar each sale for table rent.” She leaned forward 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.”