Up to Snow Good - Kelly Collins Page 0,2

never see him or hear his voice again.

Chapter Two

Lauren

Pastor Higgins looked out over the congregation, his voice low and solemn, his jowls wriggling with every breath he took and word he spoke. “We are here today to pay our respect to a man of God, our brother, Frank Matthews.

Not only have people from this congregation and community gathered but many who have respected and loved Frank as a friend. We are here today to show our love and support for Lauren. We have sensed our own personal feelings of loss over Frank’s passing, but now we draw our hearts toward her, and will continue to be with her in this trying time.”

Lauren sat in the front row, draped in black, and numb with resolution. It had been three days, and the cold truth had set in. Details had to be seen to, sympathetic expressions returned, and casseroles delivered by caring neighbors. Life went on, and she could only try to catch up.

She’d only recently come back home to help her father with the lodge. He was aging and losing her mother had taken its toll on him. Her parents had wanted to pass their dream down to her to preserve their legacy, but the pressure was overwhelming.

The pastor’s voice became louder and stronger, and the words gave her renewed hope and strength, but they alone would not be enough.

She glanced at the mourning congregation and looked back at Pastor Higgins, who wore a determined frown on his face. The light shone through the stained glass windows and reflected a rainbow of colors that danced across his balding head. “Go in peace.”

After the burial, the community gathered around her, approaching with their kind thoughts and condolences. Even Mayor Shipley was there, his stout figure encased in a well-tailored black suit. Deputy Mayor Roberts stood next to him. He was the dapper young man who was making his own name among the residents of the little resort town where kindness and honesty went a long way.

“If there’s anything we can do.” Mayor Shipley asked, taking Lauren’s hand. “Please don’t hesitate to ask.”

Everybody had made the same offer, but there was little that anyone could do, and they all seemed to know it. There was no risk of her asking for anything, and that could be why they offered.

Sally Clemens walked up to Lauren, her aging face set in a sympathetic frown, her brows arched toward the center of her cosmetically enhanced forehead. “Oh, honey, I’m so sorry. Your father was a good man, a fantastic man.” She put her sun-spotted hand on Lauren’s arm to comfort her. “Anyway, I’m sorry for your loss. If there’s anything I can do, all you got to do is ask.”

Lauren’s fake smile, which was bordering on a grimace, almost hurt her face as her cheeks strained to keep it there. She shared a glance with another Moss Creek luminary. Lucille Dubois stood near the grave and offered Lauren a nod of respect, but a glare seemed to follow Sally as she stepped away and faded into the crowd. Lucille had a reputation for being haughty and wasn’t well-liked. Sally, the brassy bar owner, definitely wasn’t a fan. A nod from Lucille was all Lauren would get, and it was more than enough.

Their accountant, Sam Phelps, stepped up and gave Lauren a hug. He held it longer than she would have liked, but it was easy enough to attribute that to the powerful emotions of the day. His short, black hair clung to his head, while his handsome face softened into a comforting smile. “How are you holding up?”

She nodded but knew she wasn’t fooling anybody, least of all herself. Sam seemed to know that too and set a hand on her arm to offer comfort. The lingering tension between them was impossible to ignore. He wouldn’t make further mention of it, not today, but the issues her father’s death brought up could not be ignored for long.

Another familiar face sent a jolt through Lauren’s consciousness.

Max Hunter looked at her from across the gravesite. His brown hair groomed to perfection, his sculpted cheeks and chin catching the glint of sunlight that peeked through the winter clouds. His eyes, large and brown, locked onto hers. Her nerves seemed to rise to the surface, as her memory flashed with images that inspired too many conflicting emotions to absorb. Everything about him was either love or hate. There was no middle ground.

When he approached, she thought about turning and walking