A Great Kisser (6 page)

Between reconciling things with her mom, and reconciling herself with her unplanned future, she had enough to deal with without wondering what every person who said hello to her might be thinking. She had no idea what the townspeople knew or didn’t know, and was having a hard time wrapping her head around the fact that anyone other than her mother and herself might care.

She knew what it was like to live under a microscope, at least in political circles, due to her job. But even then, she was an adjunct to that life. The senator was the one being personally examined. She was just the person in charge of mitigating the effects of it as much as possible.

Restless and unable to think clearly, she got up and rummaged through the basket, finally settling on a little pouch of organic, locally made granola. Crunching on fruits and nuts didn’t help much with the thinking process, but it did give her the impetus to get the heck out of her room. She should go rent a car. That was something to do. She wasn’t sure how long she was going to stay, but even a day or two required transportation. And she wanted to make sure she had that taken care of before meeting up with her mother and Arlen. She didn’t want to run any risk of being dependent on them to get wherever she might want to go.

She started to get the Yellow Pages out again, but decided what she really needed was to get out of the room. Fresh air, even of the thin variety, would be very welcome. Taking the bag of granola and her purse, she left her room and stopped by the front office to ask where she could rent a car. The rain had stopped and the storm clouds had fully moved out of the area. The sky was a deep blue streaked with the palest streams of gold and pink as the sun began its slow, late-summer descent. She loved this time of day. When she’d had time to notice it, anyway. The difference was, out here, the sky seemed endless, and the only thing obstructing her view from seeing forever were the jagged mountain peaks that surrounded her no matter what direction she looked.

Jake was right, they truly were magnificent. And to think, she was already at eight thousand plus feet, and they still soared so much higher. She was thinking about what he said, about being both humbled and inspired by them, and could see where he was coming from. She pushed open the door to the registration desk area and found herself wondering where his flight school was. Right at that moment, he was pretty much the only thing that felt grounded, which…how ironic was that?

The desk registrar’s name was Debbie, according to her nametag, and was the same person who had checked her in. She was older than Lauren by a decade. Or two. Hard to tell with the Olympian genes these people all seemed to have. Her hair was cropped short, streaked with blond highlights that Lauren was pretty sure she hadn’t had to pay for. In her deep blue polo shirt and khaki pants motel uniform, she looked more like a golf pro than a motel manager. She was average height, which meant she still had a handful of inches over Lauren, and greeted her with a sunny, toothy smile. “Good afternoon, Miss Matthews. Settling in okay? What can I do for you?”

What were these people on? And where could she get some?

Lauren wondered if Debbie was the owner’s daughter or sister. And if the other two were as naturally caffeinated as Debbie, here. Even with her growing dissatisfaction with her career choice, Lauren had prided herself on maintaining an upbeat, optimistic attitude despite living in a town, and working in a field, that prided itself on grinding the optimism out of a person as early in as possible. But out here, she felt downright crotchety and grinch-like. Apparently she’d been assimilated into her old life more deeply than even she’d realized.

“I was thinking about renting a car.”

“Oh, you don’t really need one if you’re planning to stay in town. We have a free bus system that runs here and out to the resort village. You might enjoy renting a bike, though. That’s how most folks get around.” She smiled. “Until the snow starts falling, anyway, but that’s a few months off yet. Between the bike and the bus, you’d be all set. There’s a rack on the front of every bus to put your bike in, if you get somewhere you don’t feel like peddling back. And it’ll save you some money, too,” she added cheerfully.

Lauren paused a moment, wondering if—no, there was no way anyone could know about her job. She was being a little too paranoid. Besides, Jake was the only one she’d told—stupidly, now, she supposed—but Arlen’s secretary, Melissa, had said he wasn’t wanting to be all that chatty about where he’d dropped her off, which Lauren appreciated. So she would guess he hadn’t been in a gossiping mood, either. She hoped. Her sudden lack of both a career and steady income was definitely news she needed to spring herself.

“I’ll think about that. But, just in case, where would I rent a car?”

“Well, back at the local airport in Holden is your best bet, but sometimes the resorts will have them brought out and delivered for you. Usually, that’s more a seasonal thing, but I’d be happy to ring over there.”

“Isn’t that more of a service for their guests?” She should have held her ground and gotten a car before leaving the airport.

“Normally, yes, but I’m sure when I tell them you’re the mayor’s daughter—”

It was on the tip of Lauren’s tongue to correct her and say “stepdaughter.” But even that left a sour taste in her mouth. And now that she’d been clued in to her quasi-celebrity status in town, the less fodder she provided the better. “That’s okay,” she interrupted. “Truly. I’m—going to think about it. I appreciate your help.”

“I’m sure the mayor would be happy to take care of it for you. I can just ring Melissa, or Ruby Jean and—”

“No, that won’t be necessary.” It was on the tip of her tongue to ask Debbie a question or twelve about her thoughts on the mayor, but now was not the time. Somehow she didn’t think Debbie was as stalwart as Jake when it came to being discreet. Which, admittedly, would be to her advantage in getting some answers, but not so much in keeping Debbie from telling everyone else that Lauren had some questions. “I think I’m just going to set out on foot and see the sights for a bit.”

Debbie waved her a cheery good-bye and, once on the sidewalk, Lauren turned and headed into town. Her motel was at the near end of Main Street as you entered Cedar Springs from the highway—if you could call the little two-lane road that. The resort was on the opposite end of town, and even now, in the summer, you could see the trails cut through the soaring pines, all over Mount Wisternan, the massive monolith that served as a spectacular backdrop to the entire village. She’d skied a few times, but only on the East Coast. She tried to imagine the pine green mountain, and the picture postcard town, buried in snow.

One thing was certain to be true, and that was that every person in Cedar Springs probably looked adorable in their brightly colored fleeces and snow gear.

One of the things she’d argued about with her mother, who’d retired and moved from Richmond, Virginia, to sunny Coral Gables, Florida, eighteen months earlier, was having to abruptly adjust to life in a place where it snowed at least seven months out of every twelve. The average snowfall of Cedar Springs was over a hundred feet each winter. Average. Being raised in the mid-Atlantic, where it occasionally snowed, sometimes even several feet…she still couldn’t really even imagine a hundred of them.

Her mother had laughingly responded that she’d moved to Colorado, not Siberia. And she’d moved here in February, so it wasn’t like she hadn’t seen the snow yet. Which, fine. Except her mother had been thriving since the move to a sunnier, consistently warmer climate. She’d bought a little place of her own in a great, waterfront retirement community that Lauren had privately dubbed Camp Seniors. But, kidding aside, it had seemed like a wonderful place to live.

Charlene had been active in several clubs, did volunteer work for a couple of charities, as well as a few other local organizations—and that was a very reduced pace of life for a woman who had been the toast of the hostess circuit in the society and professional realms in the capital city of Richmond. She had gushed to her daughter about all the new friends she was making, while still finding it relatively simple to keep up with many of her old ones, a great number of whom spent time in Florida, as well.

And almost all of whom had also expressed shock over her sudden elopement and subsequent move west.

Charlene had been so happy, so relaxed, so involved. Her friends, new and old, had all echoed Lauren’s sentiments in that regard. And then, wham, her mother meets Arlen during some political luncheon hosted by one of her ladies groups in Miami. He was in town for a national gathering of mayors, and before anyone even knew she’d even met the guy, she was running off with him. They were married less than two weeks after meeting each other, and she moved, lock, stock, and lawn flamingos, to Cedar Springs.

Then, to compound matters, her mother had been hurt when Lauren hadn’t been over-the-moon excited for her when she’d called with the stunning news. In return, Lauren had been hurt that her mother hadn’t even told her what was going on, before going off and doing it. At sixty-three, Charlene O’Grady Matthews was still every bit as sharp, if not sharper, than most of Lauren’s thirty-something peer group. So…she couldn’t reconcile what in the world her mother had been thinking to run off like that, on some spontaneous whim with a guy who was tantamount to a complete stranger.

Her mother had taken offense at that tack. She’d outright refused to talk about her mental state, and whether or not, perhaps, they should be concerned about such an abrupt departure from her normal behavior. Yeah, that whole conversation hadn’t gone over well. At all.

Which was when Lauren had started digging into Arlen’s history. Her mother might not know him, but Lauren planned to know everything she could find out on the guy. Being that he was a public official, and applying her personal contacts, there had been a fair amount to sort through despite his position being in such a small town. He was from San Francisco originally, and had made a run to be his party’s pick for governor many years back, early on in his political career—too early, it seemed, as he hadn’t won their support.

He’d ended up marrying one of his aides and settled with her in her hometown of Cedar Springs, running for the far less prestigious position of mayor, which he’d won handily with the support of his new wife’s family, who carried enormous clout in the area. It was a position he’d held ever since. Lauren hadn’t been all that thrilled with the rest of what she’d turned up. His first wife died shortly thereafter in a car accident. Drinking was rumored to play a role in the tragedy, as was a turbulent marriage. He remarried and divorced shortly afterward. Then remained single and focused his energy on trying to grow Cedar Springs into the next Aspen or Telluride, despite less than enthusiastic local support. In fact, from what she’d learned, Arlen Thompson was mostly all about Arlen Thompson…and thought everyone else should be, too.

What she couldn’t figure out is why they kept electing the guy, but that wasn’t her problem. Her mother marrying him was.

But try to caution her mother that she might not be fully aware of some pertinent information about who she’d married…and all Lauren had gotten was a chilly blast in the ear about daring to dig as she had, about not trusting her mother’s judgment, and, well, that had just been the launch pad. It had swiftly devolved from there, until Lauren didn’t even recognize either one of them during even the briefest phone conversation.

She mourned the loss of both a parental bond and the one true friendship she’d always counted on. Not only because it kept her from being a part of her mother’s new life, but also removed the one voice of reason she could count on when she really needed help. Like deciding whether or not to ditch the career she’d worked so hard for.

She’d really tried to see it from her mother’s point of view, but that hadn’t stopped her from worrying. Or from continuing to dig. She’d finally had to face the fact that the only way her mother couldn’t avoid the topic was if she was standing right in front of her. They had to talk about this…aberration. So, she wasn’t entirely sure just how “excited” her mother really was to see her, but she hoped that they could get past their seeming inability to get through even the most rationally approached conversation about this, and move on to some kind of common ground. Or, at least, a peaceful détente.

She really hoped she’d feel better after meeting Arlen, seeing them together. Her gut, and her reams of research, however, were telling her otherwise. What in the world did her smart, intellectual, witty, and wise mother see in this guy?

“Open-minded,” she reminded herself. She’d promised herself she’d do her best, despite her predisposed opinions. Blame it on her workplace of the past eight years. An environment her mother also knew quite well, as both the daughter of James O’Grady, a well-known lawyer and eventual appellate court judge, and widow of Daniel Matthews, a very respected trial attorney, who’d also been Lauren’s dad. She just couldn’t fathom what had made her mom, who’d been courted plenty over the last sixteen years since her father had passed away, and by some pretty distinguished men…fall for this one?

Yep. Apparently she had a little more work to do on her whole “unbiased” approach if she hoped to pull it off outside the initial handshake.

Lauren continued her stroll down Main Street, looking at the window displays that alternated between mountain gear, mountain sportswear, and a surprising array of beautifully done art, sculpture, and hand-crafted jewelry, with the occasional bookshop and restaurant thrown in for good measure. Most of it immediately forgotten, as her thoughts continued to stray back to the impending dinner. She really wished she could get her mother alone, first to talk and, hopefully begin to smooth things over, before diving into the crux of why she’d come, much less meet the crux. But she didn’t see that happening.

It was the beginnings of a tension headache that had Lauren impulsively pushing through the doors of a bike shop. The constant stress of her job had been taking its toll for some time, even longer if you counted in how long she’d stubbornly refused to accept the fact. Headaches had become the norm, not the exception, and, by the end of each day, her body had ached like someone twice her age. Her doctor—when she’d finally broken down and gone to see him—had given her solid suggestions on how to reduce stress. But his first suggestion had been to either manage her job better, or find another job. She remembered thinking he was over-exaggerating at the time, that if she simply followed a few of his other ideas, things would improve.