Frosted Hearts

Chapter 7: Fractured Foundations

The next morning, Cedar Grove stirred from its slumber under the veil of a crisp winter dawn. Ethan and Annie stood at the edge of the town square, their breath visible in the biting air. The bakery had been left in the hands of a trusted staff member for the day as they prepared to begin their investigation. They made their way to Town Hall, where the town’s land records and archives were housed.

“This feels like we’re walking into a mystery novel,” Annie muttered, clutching her scarf against the cold.

Ethan chuckled softly, but his tone was serious. “Except it’s not fiction. If that man—and whoever’s backing him—is trying to stop the resort, then there’s something buried in these records they don’t want us to find.”

Inside the Town Hall, the reception area smelled of aged paper and wood polish. They approached the receptionist, a cheerful woman with a name tag that read Karen.

“We need to access the land ownership records from the late 1800s onward,” Ethan said, his tone polite but firm. “Specifically, anything related to the Clarke, Miller, or Lane families.”

Karen raised an eyebrow. “That’s quite a specific request. Are you working on a project?”

Ethan nodded. “Something like that.”

Karen handed them visitor passes and directed them to the archives room, tucked away in the building’s basement.

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Unearthing the Truth

The archives room was a stark contrast to the cozy warmth of the bakery. Fluorescent lights buzzed faintly above rows of filing cabinets and shelves crammed with bound ledgers. Annie shivered as Ethan pulled open a drawer labeled 1880–1900: Property Transfers.

“Let’s start here,” he said, sliding the drawer open and retrieving a stack of yellowed documents.

For the next few hours, they sifted through deeds, contracts, and correspondence. The Clarke family’s name appeared frequently, with Jonathan Clarke’s bold signature marking acquisitions of large swaths of land. The Millers and Lanes were also present, often listed as co-owners—until the early 1900s, when the records showed a sudden split.

“Here.” Annie held up a document dated 1905. “The Lanes sold their holdings to the Millers after a dispute. Looks like they were cut out of the original agreement.”

Ethan frowned, scanning the page. “And here,” he said, pointing to another document, “the Millers accused the Clarkes of using underhanded tactics to expand their logging operations. No wonder the families ended up at odds.”

Annie leaned back, her brow furrowed. “Do you think that man last night is a Lane or a Miller?”

“Could be either,” Ethan said grimly. “If those grudges were passed down through generations, it would explain why they see me as a threat.”

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A Familiar Face

Their research was interrupted by the sound of approaching footsteps. Both turned to see Mayor Thompson standing in the doorway. His sharp gaze swept over the documents spread across the table.

“I heard you two were down here digging through old records,” the mayor said, stepping inside. “Care to explain why?”

Ethan hesitated, but Annie stepped in. “We’re trying to understand why someone would want to stop the resort so badly they’d resort to threats.”

Mayor Thompson sighed. “I hoped this wouldn’t resurface, but I suppose it was only a matter of time.”

“You know something,” Ethan said, his voice tinged with suspicion.

“I know enough,” the mayor replied. “The Clarke, Miller, and Lane families were the backbone of Cedar Grove’s early days. But their rivalry ran deep, especially after the Lane family lost everything. Some people in this town still hold grudges over what happened.”

“And you think those grudges are behind the threats?” Annie asked.

The mayor nodded. “It’s possible. But I wouldn’t expect anyone to admit it outright.”

Ethan’s jaw tightened. “Then we need to find proof.”

Mayor Thompson regarded them for a long moment before finally nodding. “Be careful. This isn’t just about business. You’re poking at old wounds that never fully healed.”

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A Growing Divide

That evening, Ethan and Annie returned to the bakery to find a small group of townspeople gathered outside. Their hushed whispers stopped as the pair approached, but the wary looks on their faces spoke volumes.

“What’s going on?” Annie asked, her gaze sweeping over the group.

An older woman stepped forward. “Word’s spreading about the resort. Some people think it’ll ruin the town.”

“And others think it’ll save it,” Ethan replied calmly. “The resort isn’t about tearing Cedar Grove apart—it’s about bringing people here to experience what makes it special.”

A man in the group shook his head. “Easy for you to say. You’re not the one who’ll have to deal with the traffic, the noise, or the outsiders treating this place like a tourist trap.”

The tension was palpable, and Annie felt her stomach twist. “Everyone has a right to their opinion,” she said gently. “But let’s not turn this into a fight. We’re all on the same side, trying to make the town better.”

The group dispersed slowly, leaving Annie and Ethan alone in the snowy street. Ethan sighed, running a hand through his hair.

“This is bigger than I thought,” he admitted. “If we can’t get the town on board, the resort might not happen at all.”

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A Midnight Revelation

That night, Annie couldn’t sleep. The day’s discoveries churned in her mind, refusing to settle. She found herself sitting at her kitchen table, a mug of tea in hand, staring at the historical records they’d brought home.

One detail kept nagging at her: a note scribbled in the margin of a deed transfer from 1912. It referenced a parcel of land marked as “restricted”—a section of forest outside Cedar Grove that had been left untouched for over a century.

“Restricted land,” she murmured, her brow furrowing. “Why would they leave it alone?”

Ethan appeared in the doorway. “Couldn’t sleep either?”

She slid the document toward him. “Look at this. What do you make of it?”

He studied the note, his expression thoughtful. “That land is near the resort site,” he said. “If it’s been off-limits for so long, there’s got to be a reason.”

Annie met his gaze, her unease growing. “What if that’s what this is all about? What if the resort threatens something tied to that land?”

Ethan nodded slowly. “Then we need to see it for ourselves.”

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Into the Forest

The next morning, they set out for the restricted land, armed with maps and a growing sense of urgency. The snow had lightened, but the forest was still shrouded in a dense, eerie quiet.

As they hiked through the woods, the air seemed to grow heavier, the trees towering above them like silent sentinels. They finally reached the edge of the restricted zone, marked by a weathered wooden sign that read No Trespassing.

“This is it,” Ethan said, “The restricted land.”

“What are we looking for?” Annie asked, her breath fogging in the cold air.

“I’m not sure,” Ethan admitted. “But if this land is tied to the old families, there might be something here that explains why it’s so important.”

They ventured deeper, the snow crunching underfoot. After nearly an hour of searching, Annie spotted something half-buried in the snow—a rusted metal box.

“Ethan, over here!” she called.

He hurried over, helping her dig out the box. Inside were faded photographs, brittle letters, and a leather-bound journal. The name Richard Miller was embossed on the cover.

“This could be it,” Ethan said, his voice low. “This could tell us everything.”

But as they flipped through the journal, a sharp crack echoed through the forest—a gunshot. They froze, their eyes widening in alarm.

“Run!” Ethan shouted, grabbing Annie’s hand as another shot rang out, closer this time.

End of Chapter 7