Up to Snow Good - Kelly Collins Page 0,3
away, but her legs held her in place, and a strange calm pushed her head and shoulders back as he broke into an awkward smile.
“Lauren, hello.”
“Max.” After a nervous pause, she added, “Good of you to come.” She hadn’t seen him in years, but the pain of losing him still squeezed her heart.
“My father didn’t think it was appropriate for him to come, but he sends his condolences.”
“I understand,” she said, not needing to be more specific. “He’s well, I hope.”
“He is, thank you. You know my father, he’s unstoppable.”
“My grandmother too,” Max added.
“I’m so glad to hear that,” she said with complete sincerity. “She was always such a fiery spirit.”
He nodded and seemed to fall into contemplation. “She was,” he repeated, shaking his head.
What Max wasn’t saying about his ancient grandmother spoke volumes. She was still alive in body, and neither had to remind the other that her father was not.
“Anyway,” Max said, forcing a cordial expression on his face, “I’m sorry to hear about your dad, we all are.”
“Give your family my best,” she said, hoping he would take the sentiment in the same loving spirit she intended, but she didn’t hold out much hope. There were other things to worry about and reflecting on Max, and the whole Hunter family debacle was more than she could manage.
“It’s great to see you.” He reached forward as if he’d take her hand or hug her, but stepped back.
“You too.” It was good to see a face that had once been friendly. Not that he’d ever been unfriendly, but their parents’ feud had driven a stake into both of their twined hearts, and it forced them to choose between love and family.
Thankfully, college and careers took care of the distance. As he walked away, she wondered if he’d longed for her the way she had for him?
Chapter Three
Max
Max sat across from his father’s desk; the great Eaton Hunter relaxed in his wingback leather chair, springs squeaking beneath him with every movement.
“Excellent, Max, excellent.” He leaned back and chuckled, puffing on his half smoked Cuban cigar. “You made a good impression, and that was the smart move.”
Max shrugged. The oak paneling and brass fixtures of the study gave the place a refined and dignified look, just the image his father projected. It was luxurious without being glitzy, masculine and powerful without sacrificing the pleasures of his station, but Max could never relax there. He always walked away feeling dirty like he’d crawled through a swamp.
His father went on, “She was pretty torn up, I’m guessing.”
Max sighed. It was too easy to remember that sad, pretty face. No amount of good intentions or neighborly sympathy would do anything to ease it.
“She’s heartbroken.”
“Figures,” his father said. “Those Matthews have always been soft and sentimental.”
Max bit back what he wanted to say, knowing after a lifetime of obedience, what the price of rebellion would cost him. It was better to let his father indulge and think himself superior. For every angry altercation his father had with a tenant or client, there would be a visit from Max to mend the fences and put out the fires on the burning bridges.
His father shrugged and pushed himself up from the chair with a grunt. He walked around the side of the desk to the cocktail cart. His robust chest leading the way. “She’ll have to toughen up, and with the way things are going, it won’t be easy.”
The winters had been drying up, which meant more business for the shops and cafes in their portfolio, but it was lethal for Sunshine Lodge, and both men knew it.
Pops poured himself a brandy and turned to tilt the decanter in a wordless offer.
Max shook his head, and his father replaced the top, bringing it back with him to the desk.
“It won’t be that bad when you think about it.”
Max thought about what his father said, though doubt was worming its way into his conscience. “The winters, you mean?”
His father shot him a glance that made his blood run cold. The widened eyes and raised brows meant trouble. He’d seen that look before. It was disbelief in his son’s shocking simplicity. “The winter?” Realization seemed to take his expression, softening from his fast-rising fury. “Oh, that’s right, you don’t know.” Max turned his ear for a better perspective of what he was about to hear.
His father sat down behind the desk and pulled open the top drawer to reveal a manila envelope. He set it on the desktop and