Scrooge’s gaze turned inward again, the years flying away as he remembered. Wow! The Klondike Bank of Whitehorse! That name sure takes me back…

Somewhere in the distance he heard his office manager calling, "Mr. McDuck! Your nephews are here to see you! Mr. McDuck!"

But somehow, the voice seemed to be that of the teller at the Whitehorse bank, announcing his new status as a millionaire. What a wonderful day that had been! His horizons stretched on forever, and the possibilities were endless. He planned to leave the Klondike in triumph with his true love at his side, finally rich in every sense of the word. If only that fool glacier hadn’t eaten his sled…

The men on Soapy’s boat had teased him, trying to find out what had knocked the wind out of his sails. "Hey, duck! Whadjya’ lose in that glacier? Huh, duck? Hah?" they jeered.

"None of your dang business!" he burst out, whirling to face the memories.

Donald was startled. "What’s none of my business? Isn’t this the day I’m supposed to iron the greenbacks on Mound 37-D?"

Scrooge blinked, rushing back to the present day. How long had the boys been standing there? He sighed, his anger gone. "Sorry, nephew. I was daydreaming about a time when life was less hectic, less complicated…" He flared up again, unwilling to show sentiment. "…and by gad, a lot less profitable! Phooey on it!"

Huey picked up the envelope he had dropped. "Wow! A telegram all the way from the Klondike! It’s from your Whitehorse bank, Uncle Scrooge!"

"So what? That bank has been a white elephant since the gold fields played out!" he huffed.

His four nephews crowded around to read the telegram. "They say you left standing orders to keep tabs on some marker in a glacier," Dewey said.

"And the marker area is about to fall into the Yukon River!" added Louie.

Scrooge snatched the paper away from them. "My marker? Mooseneck Glacier? Oh, my heavenly days! I’ve been waiting for this moment for years! Dig out your overcoats and pack your bags, boys! We’re going back to the Klondike again!"

"Good! Now hurry!" Scrooge said, shoving them out the door.

Before long, the five ducks were landing at the Dawson airstrip aboard a Ramjet Airlines flight…since, after all, Scrooge owned the airline. His nephews would never let him forget it, although his memory had long since recovered.

"Nothing that concerns you!" Scrooge snapped. "You get thirty cents an hour to help me, not to be so dang nosey!" He stalked on ahead, grumbling, "You pay somebody top dollar and he thinks he’s your confounded partner!"

Huey, Dewey and Louie were busy looking down Front Street. "Dawson hasn’t changed much since we were last here."

Scrooge nodded. "Progress in busted boomtowns is as slow as dehydrated molasses." His memories and the current sights matched with a strangely comforting accuracy. There were fewer people, of course, and a lot less music and fighting, but it was still Dawson. The earthy scent of mud and pines confirmed that.

"Look!" one of the boys shouted. "There’s something new! It’s a statue of Unca Scrooge holding his Goose-Egg Nugget!"

Sure enough, there was a statue of his younger self, holding the giant nugget high in jubilation. "Yes, boys," he said with a modest cough. "I’m a living legend of the gold rush days!" The tourist bureau had asked for his permission a few years ago, which he gladly gave—since it didn’t cost him anything.

Dewey read the statue’s plaque. "Scrooge McDuck—King of the Klondike. He was tougher than the toughies and smarter than the smarties, and he made it square!"

Scrooge sighed wistfully. "They didn’t think so highly of me back in the old days! I took my ore to Whitehorse and stayed out of the honky-tonks! I knew better than to spend my gold in places like the Blackjack Ballroom over there—" He turned to point, and was jarred by the sight of a large, unfamiliar sign. "Hey! What…? Somebody turned the place into a hotel!" The old building was restored and neatly painted. The sign read "Frostbit Arms Hotel."

"Just what we need!" Donald said. "C’mon, Uncle Scrooge, looks like they’ll finally get some of your business!"

His nephews followed him through the familiar swinging doors, into the lobby. Yes, it was the same building…the stairs and stage were still there. But there was a much more subdued air, with nary a poker game or a knife fight to be found. Neat tablecloths matched the plush carpet. It was an odd juxtaposition of nostalgia and newness, and Scrooge wasn’t entirely sure he liked it.

He knew he didn’t like it when the desk clerk gave him the rates. "What?! Fifteen dollars for a room!" he roared. "That’s highway robbery! Let me speak to the owner!"

"Right behind you, Scrooge."

He froze. It couldn’t be… But of course it was. He turned slowly, and there she was, with that radiant smile. "Gleep! You!" he sputtered.

"Nice to see you again!" she said calmly, her voice like chocolate silk. She stepped forward until she was almost touching him.

He removed his hat and tried not to let his knees shake. Gads, she was still just as beautiful as he remembered. He gladly noted that she looked less gaunt and more healthy than she had the last time. And her eyes…her eyes were just the same as always, a glistening vibrant green. "Um…er… You own this…ah…hotel?" he managed to say.

"Yes, Scrooge! You recall the money I came into a while back?" She turned and strolled back a few casual steps, taking in the large room with an expansive gesture. "Well, I returned to Dawson and bought the old Blackjack Ballroom to save it from demolition! It’s now a tourist hotel!" She turned back and walked toward him again, meeting his gaze with a sultry smile. "You need a place to stay tonight, Scrooge?" she asked in a low voice.

"No!" he blurted, beads of sweat rolling down his brow. "That is…uh…we need to be on our way…er…to the mountains…and…uh…" he stammered, pointing in conflicting directions.

"I’ll give you’re a free room, for old time’s sake."

"That’s a deal! Carry our bags in, boys!" Scrooge said quickly. He put his hat back on and hurried out of the room, leaving Goldie with a startled look.

That night, after the boys were asleep, Scrooge slipped out of their hotel room. He couldn’t sleep. He couldn’t think.  Not when he knew she was right in the same building.

He wandered down the corridor, dizzy with memories. He slowly headed down the stairs into the ballroom…no, the lobby. It all seemed so strange now…

She was there, at a corner table. It shouldn’t have surprised him. And, although he wouldn’t admit it even to himself, he had subconsciously hoped she would be there. Why else would he have gone wandering at this time of night? It was after midnight, for heaven’s sake!

There was no one else in the room. Even the night clerk was gone from the front desk, probably dealing with a leaky faucet or a broken thermostat.

She smiled knowingly. There were two coffee cups in front of her. She had been expecting him. "Took you long enough, McDuck," she said with a smirk. "I had to re-heat your coffee."

"I…uh…" was all he could think of to say. Lacking an excuse, he sat down across the small table from her and wrapped his hands around the warm coffee mug, unable to make eye contact.

"So, you like what I’ve done with the place?" she asked.

He looked around at the decor. Anything but look at her. "Uh…yeah. It’s nice. Different."

"Thanks to you."

His head snapped around to finally meet her gaze. "W-what are you talking about?"

"Oh, come on, Scrooge. It’s just you and me now. You can admit it. You let me find that gold cache on purpose."

"I did no such thing!" he sputtered.

She smiled smugly and sipped her coffee.

"I had amnesia! Really!"

"Mmm hmm."

"I did!"

"Whatever you say, Scroogey."

He stirred his coffee nervously, and a few awkward moments passed.

"So how are you doing these days?" she asked quietly.

"Keeping the bottom line in the black."

"That’s not what I meant and you know it, McDuck."

He drank some coffee and ignored her.

"Still just as stubborn as ever, I see." She rolled her eyes and refilled their cups. "By the way, I like your nephews."

He nodded and stirred his coffee some more.

"I imagine they keep you from getting too lonely."

"Well, I…uh…yeah," he said, feigning great interest in the woodgrain of the table.

"Why are you back this time? Another lost gold cache someplace?"

"No."

She waited for him to elaborate, but he didn’t. There were a thousand words on the tip of his tongue, but he was unable to muster the courage to say any of them.

Goldie sighed. "I’ve missed these fascinating conversations," she said sarcastically.

He cleared his throat.

"In the old days, we could talk for hours. And when we ran out of words, it didn’t matter," she said wistfully. "What happened to us, Scroogey? We were so good together, and then…what? It all fell apart, and I still can’t understand why."

"I…don’t know," he said simply.

"I’ve never found anyone else. Have you?"

He shook his head.

She fell silent.

Finally, he stood. "Uh…thanks for the coffee."

"You’re welcome," she said flatly.

He retreated up the stairs toward his room, and Goldie slouched in her chair with an exasperated look of despair.

She was up early the next morning. As soon as Scrooge his nephews left the hotel, she followed at a safe distance. They headed for the river, toward Soapy’s pier. She overheard part of the conversation between Scrooge, Donald, and Soapy’s steamboat pilot. They apparently wanted to book passage to Mooseneck Glacier. Soapy came up behind them, and she winced. Those two never met without some kind of confrontation. Soapy said something about claiming legal salvage on something—Goldie’s ears weren’t as sharp as they used to be—and then tossed Scrooge overboard. She dashed forward, but Donald and the boys helped him out of the water.

"Great stumbling catastrophes!" Scrooge moaned. "After all these years Soapy Slick will own my dogsled! Oh, woe! Oh, anguish!"

"Courage, Uncle Scrooge," said one of the boys. "We’ll rent a faster boat!"

Goldie spoke up. They hadn’t noticed her presence until now. "No, boys. The Yukon is mighty rough this time of year. Only that riverboat can buck the current!" She turned to the waterlogged duck sitting on the pier. "What’s on this sled you’re so worried about, Scrooge?"

"None of your dang business!"

"Uncle Scrooge!" Donald scolded.

"What can we do, Miss Goldie?" asked one of the boys.

Goldie scowled in the direction of Soapy’s steamboat as it headed upriver. "That weasel will reach the glacier in a few hours. The only way to beat him is to fly there!"

Scrooge stood and put his top hat back on, turning his back to her in disdain. "Some people should stick to running honkytonks! You can’t land a plane in those mountains!"

Goldie glared at him over her shoulder, her voice icy. "Maybe some people didn’t mean a plane!" My, this felt familiar…

"What did you mean, Miss Goldie?" asked one of the children.

"Come with me, boys," she said, leading them through a gate into a fenced-in area. "Here’s what I was talking about. The perfect thing to help your rude uncle beat Soapy!" She said it loudly enough so that Scrooge was certain to hear.

"Jeepers! A balloon!" the kids chorused. "Golly!" The craned their necks to look up at the hot-air balloon tethered behind a supply shed.

"We use it to give tourists a bird’s-eye view of the town," she explained.

"It’s wonderful! We can float over the mountains and set down right on the glacier!" the boys said. "Unca Scrooge!"

Goldie stood back and smiled serenely as Scrooge’s nephews worked to get the balloon ready. "Wasn’t it nice of Miss Goldie to lend us her balloon, Unca Scrooge?" one of the boys said.

Scrooge snorted in disgust, frowning at the balloon. "I didn’t need a balloon back in the old days!"

Goldie suppressed a sigh and the urge to kick him, and began to walk away. The ungrateful old miser…

"How can you be so mean, Uncle Scrooge? You’re thinking only of your pile of frozen gold!" Donald snapped.

"You don’t know what you’re talking about!" Scrooge said as he climbed into the balloon’s gondola.

Donald harrumphed and began untying the balloon. "What should I do with this rope?"

Goldie turned to look. "No! Don’t touch that!" But it was too late.

"Unca Donald! You untied the balloon!"

"Hey! Wait for me!"

The balloon soared upward, swift and graceful, into the clear Yukon sky. The boys tossed a rope to Donald, who eventually managed to climb aboard. Goldie watched them go with a wistful look. Good luck, Scrooge, she thought. I hope you find whatever you’re searching for… And she wasn’t just referring to the sled.

Goldie kept herself busy by sweeping the lobby of the Frostbit Arms, moodily wondering if Scrooge was having any luck in his search. Suddenly, there was a huge crash, and the sound of a great commotion near the docks. She smiled. That would be him.

She left her broom leaning by the door and hurried toward the ruckus. Feels like old times! she thought with a grin.

The scene at the end of the street was beyond imagining. Soapy’s steamboat was crashed on the pier, smashed into a million smithereens. More amazing was the sudden appearance of a mountain. What appeared to be half a glacier was piled up on the waterfront, ice and snow everywhere. She tried to piece together what had happened. Apparently Soapy had rammed the iceberg with his boat to force it ashore. But why? Had the old fool finally lost his mind?

She heard shouts and spotted the ducks amongst the rubble. She rushed forward to help, then stopped as an old dogsled came racing out of a crack in the ice and down the street. Soapy ran after it, with the five ducks close behind. The sled rammed into the statue of "King" Scrooge in front of her hotel. As Soapy lunged for the sled, the statue toppled over on his head, knocking him unconscious.

Donald slid to a stop and inspected the lump on the old pig’s head. "My! Look at the nice goose-egg the Goose-Egg Nugget gave him!"

"My sled!" cried Scrooge. "My old dogsled! At last!" He eagerly began tearing away the ropes and canvas to get at the contents of the sled.

Donald and the boys stepped back, toward her, and watched with confusion. "Uncle Scrooge is a greedy old bird, but I’ve never seen him so excited over such a small cache of gold!" Donald said.

"We don’t think there’s gold on that sled, Unca Donald," said one of the boys.

"Well, what else, then?"

The boys spoke in turns with a philosophical tone far beyond their years. "Maybe the sled represents something he couldn’t get…or something he lost…or both!"

"Eureka!" Scrooge yelled, pulling forth a battered set of clothes from the sled. "My old coonskin cap and deerskin coat! No silk topper and golden-fleece mackintosh could ever be as noble an outfit!" To the surprise of the bystanders, he threw off his red coat and slipped into the old one, discarding his top hat in favor of the fur cap. He rummaged in the sled some more, his face glowing with joy. "My good ol’ coffee pot and skillet! No fancy meal has tasted half as fine as the beans I cooked on my own campfire under the Klondike stars!"

Goldie remembered, and felt tears well up in her eyes.

"And my gold pan, pick and shovel!" he exclaimed, falling to his knees to inspect the antiques. "These were my tools before stock options and crop futures and compounded interest!"

Not quite before compounded interest, Goldie mused, recalling that blasted I.O.U.

Scrooge had a distant, melancholy look as he clutched this mining tools. "With these I worked the icy creeks and frozen tundra…and earned every cent with my own two hands!"

Goldie swallowed back her tears. She remembered. She remembered it all.

Soapy was awake again. "This is nuts! There’s nothing on that sled but a buncha’ junk!" he growled.

"You just don’t get it, Soapy," Donald said. "You’re as thick as permafrost!"

"So…the last sled to Dawson finally arrives!" one of the triplets said grandly, smiling at his great-uncle.

"Look!" said his brothers. "This box must have fallen off!"

Goldie turned to see them pick up a flat, pink box.

"There’s a card on it!" The boys read the tag and turned slowly to face her. "Golly! It…it’s addressed to you!"

She took the box from the child with shaking hands. "My stars! It’s a box of chocolates from the Whitehorse General Store!"

"I’ll be darned!" said another boy. "That’s why Unca Scrooge was making a last trip to Dawson!"

"He was bringing Miss Goldie a box of chocolates!"

She lifted the lid and saw rows of neatly-wrapped chocolates and a sheet of folded paper. The boys, being boys, each grabbed a piece of chocolate. "Mmm! They’re still good!"

"Makes you wonder what might have happened if he hasn’t lost his sled!"

Indeed. Goldie carefully unfolded the paper, her heart racing. What did it say? What what what? She silently read the words, her eyes following the curves of his handwriting with eager curiosity.

Fresh tears clouded her eyes.

"There I said it. Or at least, wrote it," the letter continued. "I loved you before, and I still love you now. I thought I could go on and forget you, eventually, but you haunt my dreams and cross my mind about a hundred times a day. I want to hold you again, and just listen to your heart beat, and give you every pleasure you ever dreamed of."

She nearly swooned. Even after all that time they were apart, feigning hatred, he had still felt that way. Still loved her. Still cared. Still wanted to be with her.

She read on. He said he had collected a million dollars, and was leaving the Klondike. "But I want you to come with me," he wrote. "I just bought some land down in Calisota, in the U.S.A., where we can settle down." Duckburg, she realized. "Start over again, just you and I. First, I’ll book us a first-class passage to Scotland, where you can meet my father and sisters, and see my family’s ancestral castle, and its Great Hall…where I want to marry you."

Goldie’s breath caught in her throat. Oh. My. Stars. He had been coming to propose to her. Why hadn’t he gone through with it? Because he lost the letter in the sled? A sad smile took shape on her face. Yes, that was it. It had probably taken all his courage to write down his feelings. The thought, then, of having to speak them instead was terrifying. It would have seemed like fate, somehow, and that would have been enough to scare him away. But why, oh why, couldn’t it have been different?

She cleared her throat, blinking back her tears. It was years ago, now, and nothing could change it. It was just one more "What if?" in a long line of missed possibilities.

Finally, she spoke, and the unexpected sound made him jump slightly. "I would have said yes, you know."

He whirled to face her, his eyes wide. "What—?" He saw the letter clutched in her hands, and the box of chocolates under her arm. "I—I— I didn’t mean for you to—"

"It’s okay, Scrooge. I assume the offer expired some decades ago. But…" For once, she was at a loss for words. "I just wanted you to know…I would have said yes."

He just looked at her, his face full of regrets and unsaid sentiment. "Goldie, I—What can I say?"

She shook her head with a sad smile. "You don’t need to say anything, Scroogey. Just…" She hesitated, then hugged him briefly before hurrying back into the hotel.