A Great Kisser. Donna Kauffman
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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