And that was that. Good deed done for the day.
Time to get to work.
Wood Hollow Mill was located in a massive warehouse at the end of Main Street tucked into the fringe of the forest. A local family had run a small-time lumber operation for decades before the Cunninghams had purchased the property five years ago. No one liked change in this town, and the transition between owners hadn’t been smooth.
We’d weathered our share of petty protests and general malaise, and had slowly begun to accept that change was good for the community. The mill had been an integral force in the transformation of Wood Hollow from a tiny podunk town to an up-and-coming desirable area attracting young families to settle and tourists to visit.
Once upon a time, we’d been plagued with crappy cell service, cracked sidewalks, vacant storefronts with broken windows on Main Street, and sketchy playground equipment at the park that had been installed somewhere in the middle of the previous century. New infrastructure updates included a cell tower, repaved sidewalks, widened roads, incentives for business owners to lease in the revitalized town square, and yes…state-of-the-art equipment in our schools and at the park.
We might not have been as cool as Elmwood, as fancy as Pinecrest, or quaint as Fallbrook, but Wood Hollow was slowly coming into its own. And at the mill, we were busier than ever, so no complaints here.
The state had commissioned us to handle a midsized eco-friendly deforestation project in Rutland County, which required a ton of paper work—not to mention lining up a reliable team of experts, a.k.a., loggers. The mill had a large full-time staff, but we couldn’t send everyone out on one job, no matter how lucrative it might be. We needed trained professionals to treat and process the lumber at the plant and deal with transportation and delivery to our wholesalers.
Someone had to organize the entire operation while Hank secured new contracts and ironed out details for financing the Mill Depot project. That someone was me. It was a shit-ton of work, but I loved my job.
I greeted my secretary, stomping snow off my boots as I unzipped my jacket. “Mornin’, Layla.”
“Mornin’. Storm’s coming. It’s gonna be quiet here today.” She spared a quick glance out the window. “Schools are out, and Jimmy heard they were closing the Elmwood pass.”
I headed for the coffee bar to the left of Layla’s desk, frowning as I chose the World’s Best Dad mug the kids had given me last Father’s Day. “That can’t be right. It’s notthatbad out there.”
Layla shrugged. A thirty-one-year-old mother of a toddler and a five-month-old baby, she had shoulder-length brown hair, freckles, and a contagious smile. Funny enough, I remembered her in pigtails, skipping after her older brother, Reggie, and me. We’d been ten years her senior and not interested in a nosy kid hanging around, but Reg had been responsible while his folks were at work and hadn’t had much choice. Thankfully, she wasn’t so bad.
Twenty-five years later, Reggie LaRue, the Four Forest police chief, was still my best friend, and his sister organized my life.
Truthfully, I’d grown up with more than half the folks on our payroll. Or their parents. I was originally from Fallbrook, which meant I went all the way back to kindergarten with some of the loggers who commuted to work, like Jimmy. I’d played football at Wood Hollow High with a few carpenters, laborers, and Ted, the head maintenance technician. I’d gone to junior high with Clem, our accountant, and though we never mentioned it, his wife, Dianne, was the first girl I’d ever kissed at a seventh grade dance.
I was lucky and I knew it. I trusted and respected most everyone on my staff, the benefits were great, my drive was minimal, and I made excellent money. Enough that I’d been able to buy a new house on the lake that was close to civilization yet very private.
Until today, the only neighbors I bumped into regularly were a retired doctor and his live-in nurse…who I suspected was his much younger boy toy. We exchanged the occasional hello, discussed the weather, and joked about Chase being part rabbit—a reference to the time my son had decided to help himself to carrots and tomatoes from Dr. Shandley’s garden. Yeah, that had been a little embarrassing. Thankfully the doctor had laughed the incident off and accepted Chase’s offer to weed the garden once a week for a month as restitution.
Layla popped off her chair, pulling me from my reverie. “Jimmy says the ice was treacherous on the road from Fallbrook, and—oh, shoot! Sarah is supposed to bring the kids today.”
“Yeah.”
“I don’t know if she’s going to get through.” Layla scrunched her brow. “She called, by the way. Oh, and Hank did too. He’s in Denver for Denny’s game. They’re playing Seattle tonight. I hope they crush ’em.”
“Uh…me too.”
I pulled up the weather app, listening with half an ear as she went into excited detail about her plans to watch the game with neighbors.
Snow expected in an hour, heavy snowfall by noon, and blizzard conditions this evening.
A blizzard?
Sarah had the kids till this afternoon and like it or not, I couldn’t cut out early today. I had a crucial online meeting in twenty minutes and with Hank out of town, I was on my own. I could offer to pick them up at lunchtime, though all indicationswere that the entire Four Forest area would be under a strict travel advisement by then.Fuck.
“You all right?” Layla asked softly.
I tried for a smile, but it was a weak effort at best. “I’m fine.”
“Have a donut,” she suggested, lifting the lid on the pink box next to the coffee machine. “Our resident cutie pie brought us an assorted dozen. I’m partial to the chocolate glazed myself.”
“Geez, Layla, you’re a married woman.” I infused my voice with a note of humor but ignored the donuts and headed for my office instead.
“But you’re not,” she singsonged. “Call Sarah.”
I nodded curtly, closed the door, scrolled to my ex-wife’s number.
