Bea's head shook as if Olivia's explanation only produced more questions. "Then who drove you? Where's your driver?" Beatrice turned to me.
I felt less than for not having a driver. This wasn't like me. I never cared what people thought of me or my life. Yet, her presence turned me into a scolded child willing to do anything to make things right.
"I, uh . . . I don't have a driver. Olivia drove my truck."
A loud gasp echoed through the air. It was a few decimals shy of a sonic boom. That sound came from Bea's mouth.
"You drove?"
Olivia walked over to the kitchen and began to pour a mug of the small amount of coffee that was left from the French press. "The vet showed up after Carter fell and hurt his arm. He showed me how to work the truck and guided me to the hospital. I felt good about the refresher course."
Beatrice watched her sister place the mug on the table in front of her as if she performed a magic trick.
"I think I did a good job getting us home, right, Carter?"
"We got home. And we're still alive, so I guess it was good."
I came over to the table and stood beside Olivia. The blue flannel shirt Olivia wore may not be her sister's idea of fashion, but I thought she was stunning in my worn top.
She lightly swatted my shoulder and my heart warmed as she turned her smile toward me. "I did a good job and you know it. I'm doing a good job helping with the sheep, too."
"Hold up. The sheep? Ollie, who are you and what have you done with my baby sister?"
"Baby? But I thought you said you and your sister were twins?"
I folded my arms and stared at Olivia. She nodded as if it was perfectly logical what both Bea and I said were true.
"She's two minutes older than me. Technically, I'm the youngest of the siblings."
"You had mentioned brothers at some point."
Both women nodded.
"I'm the youngest of eight. There's me, Bea, and our brother, Allistor. Then our half-brothers Konrad, Declan, Dane, and Cyrus. And our half-sister, Whitney."
My mouth fell open, and I stared in shock. That family could build a small village with those numbers.
"Wow. Keeping track of birthdays must be complicated."
"My assistant handles that," both women said at the same time, then laughed and pointed at each other. "Twinsies!"
"I said it first, Bea. Didn't I, Carter?"
"No, I did. I clearly said it first and won."
My head turned back and forth between the two women. "Won what?"
"A gold ring," Bea said and shrugged.
"If we both say the same thing at the same time, each of us has to yell twinsies. Whoever yells it first wins. The loser has to buy the winner a gold ring."
That was a tremendous waste of money. What lives did these women live that a silly bet about nothing warranted buying expensive jewelry as if it was a piece of candy?
Bea sat at the table admiring her nails waiting for me to reach a verdict while Olivia's cheeks flushed. Her eyes fell to the floor.
"You know what, Bea? I think we're too old for that game. How about instead of a gold ring, the winner gets a hot chocolate?"
Without taking her eyes off her fingers, Beatrice nodded. "I have too many gold rings anyway. I think you're right, Ollie. Except I'm not addicted to hot chocolate like you are. I much prefer coffee. Where can a lady get a good cup of coffee around here?"
Both Olivia and I stared at the mug sitting right in front of Beatrice.
"That's good coffee. I made it right before you arrived," I said.
She looked at the mug as if seeing it for the first time. "Oh, right. I forgot about this. I'm sure it's delicious."
Then the smile appeared. It was familiar and insulting. Bea didn't want to drink the coffee I made and her sister brought to her. She purposely ignored it, hoping we wouldn't notice. But that grin gave it all away.
He lips pursed and curved at the corners as her shoulders raised as if protecting her mouth from something horrible coming her way. I had seen that expression before . . . on her sister the day after she arrived.
It was snooty and bile crept up my throat as I watched her. I had forgotten how irritating the rich could be.
Bea brought the mug to her lips and after the first taste, her eyes widened. That guarded pose relaxed. "My God, this is incredible. Where did you get this coffee, and can you take me there so I can buy out the store?"
I chuckled under my breath as I watched Olivia raise her chin and puff out her chest as if she roasted the beans herself. "I'll take you there for lunch. It's the diner where you left me the envelope. They sell the coffee."
After another gulp, Beatrice stood and waved her hand. "Then we must go. I'm sure you two will be fine dressed in your denim at a diner. There isn't a dress code, is there?"
Olivia covered her mouth with her hand, trying to stifle a laugh. "No, not at a diner."
The two women moved toward the hooks by the door that held the coats. They were lost in conversation. Olivia was relaxed and animated. It was clear that she loved her sister and the way she looked at her, Olivia missed her, too.
"Get your coat, Carter," Olivia said after she shrugged on one of my old jackets.
"You two go and catch up. I don't feel like packing everything up just to go to the diner. Besides, I forgot the sheriff said he would stop by around noon to update me on the robber."
Bea gasped. "Robber? You were robbed?"
"It's a long story, Bea. I'll update you in the truck."
"She can tell you how she knocked the guy unconscious," I yelled as Olivia was shutting the door behind her.
I could hear Bea shriek from outside, enjoying her sister's outrageous reactions.
Since Beatrice had left the cabin, Kitty left her bed. The dog was no longer taking commands from me—Olivia was the new leader in her eyes. And now with Bea, Kitty barely noticed me.
"I guess it's just you and me for lunch, Kitty. Just like the old days."
Kitty whimpered and sat, staring at the front door.
"Jeez. Tell me how you really feel."
I moved around the table and took over Bea's vacated chair. Now I was sitting and staring at the front door, too.
It had only been two-and-a-half weeks but being alone with Kitty didn't seem normal anymore. It felt lonely.
SEVENTEEN
Olivia
"AND WHO IS THAT PIECE of silky luxury?" Bea's eyes flickered to her left as she brought the white diner mug to her mouth. This was her third cup of coffee since we arrived at the Fire and Ice diner.
I turned my head and saw a man with short, dirty blond hair at the cash register speaking to Debbie.
"I have no idea. But Debbie is pointing at you and he's looking over here."
Bea shrugged as if expecting that answer—because of course, she did. I loved my sister, but I had a theory that in the womb, she sucked up all the confidence. Bea was the center of attention wherever she went. She once walked into the gift shop of a hotel to pick up some toothpaste she forgot. Beyoncé happened to walk in and before Bea left, Beyoncé was begging her to stop by her show. She even promised Bea she'd dedicate "Single Ladies" to her at the concert.
"Should I give him my number? I've decided this year will be the year I get serious with guys. No more flings. I'm a grown woman."
I was surprised. Bea knew she was rich, gorgeous, business savvy, and could get any guy she wanted with a flutter of her eye. If I had her confidence and drive, I wouldn't have ended up with Derrick.
But then I never would have met Carter.
"You never know. These mountain men can surprise you. It might be worth it giving him your digits."
She clasped my hands across the table as mischief lit up her face. "Yes. Your mountain man. And he's a farmer. You know what they say about farmers?"
"No. I don't."
Gnawing on her bottom lip, Bea shook her head. "Neither do I. But I'm sure there's something about farmers. Anyway, spill the bean
s."
I tried to cover up the snort with my hand, but it was too late. Heads turned in our direction.
"It's funny you should say that."
I explained to Bea how I took shelter in Carter's cabin and threw the can of beans at him. I noticed in all the time I relayed my story of the past two weeks, that guy from the cash register never came over.
That was weird. Bea thought so, too. She would glimpse over there every so often as I caught her up on my life over the past few weeks. The door to the diner chimed, and I noticed it was the guy leaving.
"Are you okay?"
Bea's eyes were wide, staring at the door. She blinked and after a few seconds, sat up straight. "Yeah, I'm fine, Ollie. I guess mountain men are a little different than the guys we hang out with."
"That's true. I went to the bank once with Carter and he withdrew five hundred dollars. He thought that was enough money to last him weeks."
How he relied on bacon and potatoes, it probably would last him more than several weeks.
"But that's less than I spend on Julia."
It was odd discussing this with my sister. Not that money hadn't come up in the past with us, but the cost of things was never talked about. After a few weeks with Carter, I was finding it extravagant how normal Bea thought it was to spend that much on someone cutting her hair.
"I used to think everyone had a driver or at least, a maid, but I'm learning that is a rarefied lifestyle. We don't live a normal life, Bea."
Bea twirled her finger around the edge of her mug and glanced around the diner, taking in the people engrossed in their food and conversation.
"Perhaps we are the different ones. I never thought of it before. Even when you were with Derrick, I thought it was strange when he would ask to split the dinner bill after all our friends would go to dinner. Who does that?"
"Everyone. Well . . . everyone but us."
"You've changed. I don't know how your mountain man did it, but he's changed you."
I wanted to defend Carter. My sister met him for a total of fifteen minutes. She had no idea who he was or what life he's led.
"Carter hasn't done anything to me. If anything, I've learned a lot from him. I know how to cook now."
"That's what I'm talking about." Bea smiled. "It's like my baby sister has grown up. She's smarter than me now. I like Carter. I think when Dad finds out about him, he'll be overjoyed."
That surprised me. I thought running out on a wedding my father paid a lot of money for—to his new favorite at the company—would have made my father not want anything to do with me. He probably faked concern to his friends and business partners, but if I knew my father, at home he must have told people never to bring up my name.
"What happened to my things? I left everything behind in The Lodge when I ran from the wedding. I assumed people would come looking for me, but there was nothing."
Bea frowned. "I'm afraid that was my fault. I thought you got cold feet and finally took my advice and left. But when I saw you left your purse behind, I got a little concerned and made sure to leave the envelope in the one place I knew they had hot chocolate—the diner. I passed this place on my way to the airport."
"But if you were concerned, why didn't you come looking for me?"
She's my sister and even she was willing to leave me behind.
"I thought you had grabbed some cash and took a cab. I had no idea you actually ran across the mountain with nothing. I'm the reckless one, not you. It honestly never occurred to me that you were in danger. I was concerned that maybe you ran off with some guy and might change your mind after a few days. That's why I left the envelope—in case you needed something for a plane ticket."
Bea was right. I was the responsible one. I thought people would like me more for being good and doing what I was told. Instead, I got used by men, and everyone else assumed I was fine when I could have died cold and alone on a mountain.
"What did you tell everyone?"
Her mischievous smile appeared. "I told everyone you ran off with a man. Because I honestly thought you had." She blushed and her gaze fell to the coffee cup in front of her. "Then I said you and your lover ran off to some exotic locale, but I wouldn't tell them where. Mom was surprised, but I caught her getting her dreamy-eyed stare. I knew I'd tugged at her romantic side with the part about running away with a lover."
I sighed. Leave it to Bea to make my life sound like a Hollywood movie.
There was one question I shouldn't ask but craved to know. "What about Derrick?"
Not that I cared what he thought, but I wondered if he was relieved.
"He played the devastated fiancé part to a T. Father even called him son."
I gasped. That wasn't good.
"Did Dad ask about me?"
Bea shook her head and took another sip before placing the mug back down. "No, of course not. You know him. But when he hears you've landed Carter Fitzwilliam, he will forget all about Derrick."
That made Bea's smile turn into something clownish.
"Carter's just a farmer."
I turned my head and stared out the window. It was foolish of me not to realize that Bea would easily put the puzzle pieces together about Carter.
My sister's eyes widened and she leaned forward. "I thought you knew . . . Why else would you be helping around the farm? I never took you for a woman to play a rich man, but if I had been in your shoes, Ollie, I probably would have done the same thing. I mean, he's a Fitzwilliam after all. The only better catch would be a prince, and they seem to all be taken."
She's still angry that Prince Harry got married. Not that Bea ever met the man, but that was on her life to-do list.
"But he's not related to the Attorney General Dashiell Fitzwilliam. That last name is common. I'm sure there's lots of Fitzwilliams all over the country."
Was I saying that for her sake or mine?
"Would you two ladies like more than just coffee?" Debbie appeared, startling me.
"Can I have the salad and a side of pancakes?" I handed off the menu.
"Do you have bacon?"
I couldn't help but grin at my sister's question. My mother didn't just torture me growing up by depriving me of fatty foods like bacon, but she also refused to let any of her children eat like a "commoner" as she called it.
My mother always felt she was meant for royalty, but she settled on my father and his money. Maybe that's where Bea's obsession with Prince Harry came from.
"Of course."
"A large plate of bacon."
Debbie nodded and grabbed the other menu before leaving.
"I'm starting to see the appeal of this place. Amazing coffee and all the bacon you want. Not to mention a rich guy posing as a farmer."
I was getting irritated by Bea's talk about Carter. He was a private man, and if it was true what Bea was implying about his past, then that's where it needed to stay.
"I think you're wrong about Carter."
"You said it yourself, Ollie, when you were telling me all that happened since you came here. He was born in DC. A Fitzwilliam, born in the nation's capital, is from one family."
She took out her phone from her purse. "How old did you say he was?"
"I didn't. I don't know. I guess around our age."
"We're twenty-eight, so he's probably around thirty . . ." she muttered while tapping at her phone.
She gasped, covering her mouth. Bea held out her phone to me.
I took it, not wanting to read what it said. This was going to change things—change how I saw Carter. It was one thing to pretend like it wasn't true, but to see the evidence that it was real had me rethinking the hot chocolate I was drinking.
How Bea painted my relationship with him wasn't us at all. Yet, I knew when I read what she looked up about him, it would appear that way to everyone who found out. Knowing Bea, she would drop hints to all the right people about Carter.
My eyes flickered over the web page filled with different members of the Fitzwilliam family.
I saw Dashiell's name and next to him, his brother, former senator Lorne Fitzwilliam. It explained his disappearance shortly after the tragic death of his wife and baby daughter.
I found it hard to swallow as I read the next line. It was about his son. Last seen at age eight, Carter Fitzwilliam disappeared with his father. Both are presumed dead, but some theorists believe he lived in various locations around the world. There's even a theory they were abducted by aliens.
I pushed the phone back at Bea, not wanting to look at it anymore.
"Carter is also a common name. That doesn't explain anything."
Bea lifted the phone. "Considering that this Carter and your Carter are the same age . . ."
"Presumably. I still don't know his actual age. Carter could be forty-five for all I know instead of thirty. Maybe he has really good genes and the mountain air makes him look younger than he actually is?"
"Here's your food. Enjoy, ladies. Oh, and can I say it's wonderful that you found your sister." Debbie clasped Bea's shoulder after placing the plates of food in front of us.
"It is wonderful. It's a relief to have her back."
Both my sister and Debbie gazed at me, their eyes glassy with unshed tears. My cheeks warmed at the attention.
"Bacon." I pointed to Beatrice's plate of food to get her to stop staring. It did the trick. She clasped her hands together and stared at the bacon with affection.
"One more thing before you go." Bea hesitantly ripped her eyes from the food to glance up at Debbie. "Are you from here?"
Debbie put her hands on her hips and with a proud smile, she nodded. "Born and raised."
"Do you know when Carter and his father moved here?"
I was about to lift a piece of pancake to my lips with my fork when I stopped mid-rise. Bea smirked at me. I knew she saw this as some sort of contest. Who was right and who was wrong?
That's not how I saw it. For me, it was everything I thought I knew about Carter about to be flushed away. Maybe I saw him as different because he was a farmer just trying to get by in life. If he was tied to the Fitzwilliams, then his life was more complicated than I could imagine.
Cabin Fever (Lost and Found Book 1) Page 12
