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George and Mabel sprang apart, both of them looking slightly flustered. George chuckled, running one hand down his beard, and Mabel turned bright pink.

“Christopher!” Mabel said, one hand going to her hair in an unconsciously self-conscious gesture. “We didn’t hear you come in.”

“Clearly,” Christopher said, keeping his tone dry. He chuckled, shaking his head. “There’s a storm brewing, in case you hadn’t noticed. You two should probably think about heading home before the roads get worse.”

George and Mabel exchanged a sheepish glance. They were too in love to be truly embarrassed, even caught kissing like teenagers in their own shop.

“We were just about to close up,” George said, reaching over to shuffle a stack of invoices. “Didn’t expect anyone else to come by in this weather.”

“I’m worried one of my guests is still out in it. A woman in her early thirties, blonde, wearing a charcoal gray coat. She would have been heading up to the lookout point this afternoon. Did you see her?”

Recognition flickered across Mabel’s face. “Oh, yes! The journalist from Portland. She stopped in and asked about the trail. I told her it was well-marked but warned her about the weather forecast.”

“Did you see her come back down?” Christopher asked, although he already knew the answer from their expressions.

George shook his head. “No, can’t say we did. But we’ve been in and out—loading some trees for delivery, organizing the back room. She could have passed by while we were occupied.”

“Could have,” Mabel said slowly, “but I’d have hoped she would have stopped to let us know she was back, given that I’d told her to check in on her way down.”

Christopher ran a hand over his mouth. It was entirely possible that Layla just hadn’t bothered stopping in, either out of a hurry to get back or because she thought Mabel was being overbearing. But if so, he thought surely she would have made it back to the bed and breakfast by now.

He was very worried that she was still up there, in the storm, with visibility dropping and temperatures falling. A dangerous predicament for anyone, but even more so for someone who was inexperienced with this sort of thing.

“I’m going to alert the fire department,” Christopher said, already pulling out his phone. “Just as a precaution. They’ll want to make a sweep of the area.”

“Good idea,” George said, his expression turning serious. “That trail can be tricky even in good conditions. In weather like this…”

He didn’t need to finish the sentence. They all knew what could happen—someone could get turned around, miss the trail markers in the snow, slip on ice and get injured. The mountains were beautiful but unforgiving, especially to people who didn’t know them well.

Christopher called the fire department—a volunteer force in Fir Tree Grove, but well-trained and equipped for mountain rescues. Chief Wilson answered on the second ring.

“Wilson.”

“It’s Christopher Holcomb. I’ve got a situation. One of my guests went up to the lookout point this afternoon and hasn’t come back. Given the weather, I’m worried she might be in trouble.”

“We’ll check it out. You got a description of her?”

Christopher provided what he knew about Layla—her appearance, what she’d been wearing, when she’d likely started up the trail. Wilson listened carefully, and Christopher felt his worry lessen slightly with the fact that someone trained to handle this was now dealing with it.

“We’ll get a team together,” Wilson said. “Start a sweep of the trail and surrounding area. Can you meet us at the trailhead?”

Christopher hesitated. His instinct was to say yes immediately. He wanted to be part of the search, and do something active rather than wait helplessly. Part of that, he realized, was an urge to help rescue Layla specifically, which he couldn’t let himself examine too closely right then.

But he had guests at Hearthside, and they needed him there to serve dinner and hot cocoa and bring a sense of warmth and normalcy to the place while the storm raged outside.

“I need to get back to the cottage,” he said regretfully. “But I’ll keep my phone on. Call me the second you find anything.”

“Will do. And try not to worry too much. She’s probably just taking her time getting down, being careful in the snow. We’ll likely find her halfway down the trail, perfectly fine.”

“Yeah,” Christopher said, wanting desperately to believe it. “Thanks, Chief.”

He ended the call and looked up to find George and Mabel watching him with sympathy and concern.

“She’ll be all right,” Mabel said gently. “She seemed like a capable young woman.”

“She is,” Christopher agreed. “But that only goes so far, especially when she’s not used to something like this.”

There was nothing left for him to do but head back, though. He said his goodbyes and headed back out to his truck, the wind hitting him with enough force to make him stagger slightly. The snow was coming down even harder, accumulating so fast that his truck had gained another inch of coverage in just the few minutes he’d been inside.