“Mia . . .” Bea sent a look her way. “You’re awfully quiet over there.”
She shrugged, watching the flames dance around our marshmallows. “I have absolutely no opinion on the topic.”
Her demeanor suggested otherwise. I didn’t know her that well yet, but even I could spot that when Mia fell silent, there was a lot she wasn’t saying.
“Okay, that’s the second time you’ve clammed up about the Hawthornes. What, is there some kind of bad blood there I should know about?”
At this point, I was done being subtle. And it reminded me I really didn’t know this family, or Charles, at all. Gossip clause be damned, I wanted to know what I’d gotten myself into.
“Somebody would tell me if I was accidentally working for the mob, right?”
Delilah laughed. “Nothing like that. At least, I’m pretty sure there aren’t any bodies buried up at that chalet. But then, you never can tell.”
“They say it’s always the quiet ones,” Bea quipped.
“That family is anything but quiet,” Mia snarked.
“What does that mean?”
“The Hawthornes go way back in Maplewood Creek,” Delilah explained. “Everybody loved the grandparents. Pillars of the community and all that. They had a lot to do with bringing some of the initial investments that turned us into a resort town. Made us a ski destination. All to support Mrs. Hawthorne’s career when she first got into competitions.”
“Mrs. Hawthorne was practically royalty around here back in her skiing days,” Bea told me. “Biggest celebrity the town had ever seen. Way before our time, of course.”
“Then she got injured,” Delilah added. “Ended her career. It was a real shame. They said she could’ve become one of the best in the world.”
Which would certainly explain her penchant for perfection, and maybe even her sour disposition, but that was hardly a scandal.
“Okay, but what’s that got to do with all the sideways glances every time someone mentions their name?”
“Well . . .” Bea flicked her eyes to Mia to see if she planned to interject, then said, “back in the day, Charles, for one, was kind of a hellion.”
That didn’t strike me as all that surprising. Young, handsome men were usually trouble.
“Him and his Ivy League buddies used to be notorious for getting kicked out of bars,” she continued. “Throwing wild parties. Trashing hotel rooms.”
I didn’t doubt her, though it was difficult to picture that version of him. Then again, I knew very little about the guy. All things considered.
“But something must’ve happened,” I said. “The reason he was gone for so many years?”
“There was a car accident,” Bea admitted. “Some property damage. And a whole lot of embarrassment.”
I sat back, a bit stunned. “Was anyone hurt?”
“No,” Delilah assured me. “Not seriously. Nothing like that . . .”
“Point is, for too many years that family has chewed up this town, then spit us out,” Mia snapped. “They run around doing whatever they please, and to hell with the consequences. So, forgive me if I’m not signing up for the fan club.”
Chapter 20
That night with the girls had given me a lot to think about. And while I was eager to ask Charles about some of the things I’d learned, I needed to find the right moment. Today, after breakfast service, he found me brainstorming in the kitchen for the Thanksgiving Throwdown.
“Don’t suppose I can tempt you back out on the slopes?” he asked, decked out in ski gear while he watched me sketch at the kitchen island.
“Not today.” I hunched over my notebook. “I have to come up with an amazing gingerbread design, or else I’m going to completely embarrass myself.”
He peered over my shoulder at the numerous evolving ideas jotted down in pencil. “The locals do take their pastry contests seriously. Generational feuds have been born. Blood spilled.”
“Blood, huh?”
