Cabin Fever (Lost and Found Book 1)

by Elizabeth Lynx

  He sighed and for a long moment, he said nothing. I lay in his arms and it felt good.

  "I'm going to tell you something I have never told anyone." Carter's voice a whisper.

  "Okay." I cringed that it was all I could come up with to say.

  "My mother and baby sister were murdered by a deranged gunman."

  I tried to hold back my gasp, but he heard. His arm tightened around me, and I did the same to him.

  "My father was Senator Lorne Fitzwilliam. He was thinking of running for president and was at a rally. He brought us on stage . . . it's what politicians do. Show off the wife and kids to the crowd so they come across as a great family man. But my father was good. Maybe I'm a bit biased, but I had met the other politicians he knew, even the president, and only a few came across as good people."

  I nodded because I had met the politicians that my father associated with and a few had an air of slime about them. Even former President Higgins had shown up to a few of my mother's parties. There was something about that man. I couldn't put my finger on it because he smiled, shook hands, and appeared interested in what people had to say. But still, I got the sense it was all an act.

  A lot of the politicians assessed you instantly to see if you could be useful to them. If you weren't, they barely acknowledged your existence.

  "There was a man, close to the stage, that started screaming. He was angry and was cursing. Me, who looked up to my dad as a great man, got angry. I stepped forward and told him to stop using bad language. My mother raced forward with my baby sister in her arms. I think she was coming to grab me, to pull me back, but it was too late. A few shots rang out. I can't even remember how many. The police reported that he only shot twice, but it sounded like four or five times."

  Carter began to shake, and I tightened my hold and looked up at him. His eyes were closed tightly and his features contorted in anger. He was reliving the moment, and I wanted to do everything I could to take that pain away.

  "Everyone was taken to the hospital. I remember the look on my father's face when he walked into my hospital room. I was only eight, but I knew my mother was gone. I just knew . . . When he told me my sister, Clare, hadn't made it, I couldn't stop crying. My father spent the next few days arranging to leave DC and still, I cried. When I wasn't crying, I was like a zombie going through the motions."

  "Oh, Carter."

  I lifted my head and dotted kisses on his cheeks. Here I was only thinking of me. My fragile ego creating silly hoops to jump through.

  "When we came here, everything changed. My father bought a few sheep and got me a puppy. Not Kitty . . . she wasn't born yet. It was my first dog, and I named her Doggie. If you hadn't guessed, I'm not that creative when coming up with names."

  I smiled and as he opened his eyes; they held a sorrow I'd never seen in him. Something dark. As if he wore a thick chain wrapped around his body that dug into his flesh and he knew it would never be lifted.

  "This farm and the solitude up here helped me heal. I began to feel like a real person again. My father never talked too much about it, but when memories would overwhelm me, he took me to the barn and would teach me something new. He was learning himself. It was a way for us to learn and adapt to the new life together. Tyler's father came up for a few months to teach us. He grew up on a sheep farm. But once my dad got the hang of farming, we didn't see Tyler's dad anymore. Dad and I kept to ourselves up here."

  Together we stayed like that for a minute. His body started to relax, and I thought about how this place helped me grow and heal, too. I was about to mention that to him when we heard the door to the back open.

  "Carter?"

  "Oh no, Emily. I forgot about her." Carter sat up with a frown.

  He got up and before he opened the bedroom door, he turned to me. "If you don't want me to hire her, I won't."

  My chest bloomed in warmth.

  "Hire her. She's too good to let go."

  He walked back over and bent down. Brushing his lips over mine, he gave me a chaste kiss before leaving.

  Carter was too good for me to ever let go.

  TWENTY-SIX

  Carter

  "I'M RICH!" OLIVIA SAID as she slammed the check on the linoleum table.

  "I already knew that. I think most people who've met you could tell that you come from money." I glanced at her check and wondered what the good doctor paid my girlfriend.

  It was at that moment that I realized Olivia was my girlfriend. I had never had one before. She was my first friend I had as an adult, and my first girlfriend. Wait . . . did adults say lovers?

  I didn't know. Perhaps if I made more adult friends, I would understand how to refer to Olivia. I glanced around the diner to see if there was a guy around my age who I might wish to get to know.

  The doorbell jingled, and I glanced back to see two men my age stroll through the door. I quickly turned back and lowered my head.

  Olivia sat tall in her seat and waved. "Hey, Dr. Ferguson. Over here."

  "What are you doing? You just saw him about twenty minutes ago." I tried to reach for her arm to pull it down, but it was too late. I heard Tyler call out to her.

  Much to my disappointment, Tyler showed up along with the other man he came in with, Austen Goode.

  "Hello, Olivia. Carter." Tyler's tone lowered as he mentioned my name.

  "Tyler. Coming for an afternoon snack?" I asked.

  "Just seeing if Emily's around. She's new to town. I wanted to introduce her to Austen. In case she wanted to open a bank account."

  I narrowed my eyes at both of them.

  "I'm sure she's perfectly capable of opening a bank account on her own. Unless the bank's changed its policies and you know, now requires formal introductions to get an account," I said as I turned to face Austen.

  His jaw ticked as his line of sight focused on the table in front of me.

  For the past year and a half, when he first took over as manager of the bank, he'd been trying to get me to take over my father's bank account and sign various paperwork involving my father. My father warned me many years ago to never sign any legal paperwork from the bank.

  When we first came here, my father was still grieving and when he set up the account, it was under his old name of Lorne Fitzwilliam. He hadn't changed his name and gathered the proper documents yet to open an account as Lee Fitzwilliam.

  Therefore, every time he went to the bank, he went alone—in case someone might be looking for him. A few reporters picked up the trail over the years but thankfully, the people of this town were tight-lipped. The ones that suspected who my father really was said nothing while the others just thought he was Lee Fitzwilliam, a sheep farmer who moved here from the south.

  I opened an account when I was eighteen under my middle name, as my father had suggested. Now that he's gone, the bank wants to sign over the money in his account to mine. I complain that it's because they get a cut, which I have no idea if it's true or not. My goal was to give Austen the impression I was crazy, all so he would leave me alone.

  My father set up a reoccurring deposit into my account so I would be taken care of if anything happened to him. There's no need for me to sign any paperwork. It would only trigger nosy journalists who won't leave my past alone.

  "Of course, she is, Carter, but I ran into Austen on the sidewalk and mentioned Emily. He's a businessman on the lookout for a client, that's all," Tyler grumbled.

  "Would you two like to join us?"

  All eyes, including mine, turned to Olivia in surprise.

  "What? But—" I tried to stop it like a car sliding on an icy road about to hit an embankment. The more you tried, the worse it became.

  "I don't think that's a good idea," Austen said just as Tyler blurted out, "We'd love to."

  I groaned as I slid over, making room for Austen to sit beside me. Tyler scooted beside Olivia and instantly began to discuss work with her. I was uncomfortable but hopeful Olivia would open up the conversation to include Austen, so I wasn
't left having to talk to him myself.

  Olivia was too engrossed in Tyler's story about a dog's infected tail to notice me and Austen.

  "About your father's account," Austen said quietly but directed to me.

  "I told you I'm not signing that paperwork."

  Austen took a breath and released it through his nose. I knew this because of the whistle it produced. "The thing is, Carter, if you don't sign it by next week all the money will be transferred to his mother, your grandmother, Rosemary Fitzwilliam. You won't have the money deposited into your account anymore. I'm not after you to sign the paperwork because I make something on it, it's because you could lose everything."

  I shifted in the seat and turned toward the clean-shaven man in the perfect managerial suit. It was brown and dull, which I assumed was a reflection of his personality.

  "Why would you give my father's money away?"

  "It's not up to me. Your father's will stated you had two years to claim the money. If you do not in that time, all monies and property will be given to his mother. If his mother isn't alive, then it would then be given to your uncle, Dashiell Fitzwilliam."

  My gaze flickered over to where Olivia and Tyler sat. They were still talking and hadn't heard Austen.

  "You know who I am? Who I'm related to?" I leaned forward, whispering.

  "Yes. The bank manager before me took me aside just before he left and explained everything. He told me not to tell anyone. I remember that day. What happened to your mother and sister . . . I never had a chance to tell you how sorry I am." He reached forward and placed his hand on my shoulder.

  Irritation caused me to stiffen but when I looked up into his gray eyes, it was like looking into a mirror. Pain flickered back at me and I wondered if he understood that kind of heartache. He moved here about two years ago, and I knew nothing of his past. I wondered if something had happened to him that brought him here. Something as broken as the events that brought me here.

  "Thank you."

  He gave my shoulder a squeeze and let go. "Have you looked over the will before?"

  I shook my head. When my father died, I holed myself up in the cabin for weeks. The lawyer kept dropping by and left paperwork, but I would stupidly tear it up in my grief. I was lost. My sheep and Kitty were the only creatures that brought me back to life.

  "No. I guess I should. How long do I have?"

  "Until Monday. Why don't you stop by the bank tomorrow?"

  I nodded, accepting the inevitable. Either way, I was screwed. If the money transferred back to my family in DC, they would realize my father had been alive for two decades. They'll be sure to believe that I'm alive and come looking for me.

  If I signed the paperwork and the transfer goes through, I'm sure to find a journalist hanging around the bank at some point. At least with the latter scenario, I could avoid the reporters. But if my family found out, there would be no way I could avoid them.

  "You two look like you're having an interesting conversation," Olivia said staring at us.

  "Just bank account stuff," I said and lifted my menu.

  "Speaking of bank accounts, I don't see Emily. She's usually here on Wednesdays." Tyler glanced around just as Debbie showed up.

  "You can thank Carter for stealing my new hire. I guess the girl likes sheep more than our coffee and pancakes."

  "Impossible! Someone would choose Carter over Fire and Ice?" Tyler slid his eyes to me and quirked his lips.

  I really didn't like Tyler.

  "She gave notice on Saturday. Seems she grew up on a farm," Debbie said and glared at me as if it was my fault where Emily was raised.

  "What I'd like to know is, how come all the new, pretty ladies that come to town always end up at Carter's cabin? Do you have a cult that I don't know about?"

  I was about to tell Tyler where he could stick his snarky remarks before Olivia did it for me.

  "Dr. Ferguson, you do realize Carter's a sheep farmer?" she said, staring at him.

  "Of course. I come out to his farm all the time to check on the sheep."

  "Then you know what they say about sheep farmers, right?"

  Tyler looked skeptical, but said, "No. What do they say about sheep farmers?"

  "That sheep farmers get shit done."

  I don't know what surprised me more, the fact she said that with a straight face or that she cursed and I didn't seem to mind. Because it was worth it to watch Debbie and Austen laugh while Tyler groaned and rolled his eyes.

  But the best part was when Olivia winked at me. I had been uneasy since she started working for Tyler, that he might go after her and she'd see him as the better prize. But that one simple immature joke was her defending me. It bothered her the way Tyler talked about me and she did something about it.

  I stared back and realized in that moment that I loved Olivia. Not because she knocked Tyler down from his stupid pedestal. That was the slap in the face I needed to see how lucky I was to find someone like her.

  I thought of her ex-fiancé and couldn't believe what an idiot he was for cheating on Olivia. He had the rare gift of this woman willing to spend the rest of her life with him and he took it for granted. Olivia was smart enough to run, and I was lucky enough to be in her way.

  "Olivia, I'm not hungry. How about we head home?" I said, unable to take my eyes off the woman I loved.

  Her cheeks blushed and her lips, in the most delicious way, bent into the slightest smile. I wanted to eat her up.

  "I think we need to get back to the farm. Excuse us."

  Both men moved, and we slid out. I couldn't help but look back and notice the surprise and irritation in Tyler's expression.

  I grabbed her hand and we ran to the truck like children giggling the entire way. I slid into the driver's seat and buckled up, and she did the same in the passenger seat. Once we had pulled away, I held her hand and didn't let go until we were back home.

  TWENTY-SEVEN

  Olivia

  "YOU NEVER READ YOUR father's will?"

  I sat in the lobby of the bank next to Carter. After racing home from the diner yesterday and having the best raunchy sex, he explained what Austen told him at the diner.

  It wasn't what was in the will that surprised me, but that Carter, who obviously loved his father very much, had never read the thing.

  "I wasn't thinking straight back then. And, after a while, it became something else."

  "What?"

  He turned in the padded leather chair to face me. Despite the sadness I saw in his eyes, he held his head high. "I felt if I read the will then it meant he was truly gone. Somehow in the back of my brain, a part of me wanted him to still be alive. That at any moment, I would walk in the cabin and find him eating a can of beans."

  My eyes widened.

  "Was that a joke? About finding me eating the beans. I mean, I said I was sorry about eating your food, but it's just a can of beans."

  His face softened, and he placed his hand on my shoulder. "No, not a joke. That was his can of beans you were eating. Think about it . . . Have you ever seen me cook with beans? Or when we were at the store, buy a replacement can?"

  I never thought of it before, but he's right.

  "No, I haven't. That was his can I ate?" I felt as if I disturbed a sacred tomb and gasped. "I'm so sorry, Carter."

  "It's fine. Like you said, they're only beans. But the will was his voice. His ideas, his money, his words. If I read it, then that tiny part of my brain that was desperate for him to be alive would know he was dead."

  It was a small gesture, but it was the best I could give him, sitting in this lobby. I took Carter's hand in mine and held it as long as he would let me.

  "Mr. Fitzwilliam." Austen appeared and waved us back to his office.

  It was the same room I listened outside of several weeks ago. It was small, barely enough space for the outdated brown desk, desk chair, and two more for Carter and me to sit.

  The decor matched the rest of the bank, wood paneling. Wood decor must
be trending up here on the mountain.

  Austen brought out the will and pointed to where Carter needed to sign.

  "Just sign there when you have finished reading."

  Carter lifted the paper and was surprised to find it only one page in length.

  "That's the whole thing?" Carter asked, holding the paper up in the air.

  "Yes. You were his only concern. It lists his assets, which is the cabin and the amount of money in his bank account at the time. That number has changed for obvious reasons, due to the time that has passed."

  "Because of the money set to deposit into my account, I am assuming it's much lower."

  Austen sat back and shook his head. "No, it's more. Due to the amount of money he had and that the majority was being held in a savings account until the will was signed, the interest was more than what you received from him monthly."

  "What?" I said as I straightened in my chair.

  I knew the Fitzwilliams were rich, but I thought they had only a little more than my father.

  Carter's eyes went wide, and his finger traced under one of the parts of the will.

  "My father had over ten billion dollars?" Carter's voice went up an octave.

  I made a choking noise and my hand, on total instinct, snatched the will out of Carter's hand. "That can't be right. I think that's a typo, Carter." I narrowed my eyes and mentally counted all the numbers. "That's eleven numbers . . . Eleven." My voice sounded like a cross between a longtime smoker and Vincent Price.

  "There are no errors. That number is correct. Well, it was correct two years ago. Here is the updated amount, which you will also need to sign this document, too."

  Austen pushed the piece of paper toward Carter. I leaned over and saw the number.

  "That's a million more dollars. Carter, you're rich. You're like stupid, ridiculous, over-the-top wealthy."

  He sat there staring at the two pieces of paper, not moving.

  A billion little ideas were fluttering around in my brain. He could expand the cabin. My God, he could build ten cabins, each holding a different purpose. One was the bathroom cabin and another the kitchen cabin, and another would be one big bedroom cabin.