She gulped air and there was a sparkle on her cheek. A reflection of moonlight as her tears fell.
"That anyone would discover that."
I reached out to her, but she shrugged my hand away.
"You saw the will, Olivia. All that money. That's why the intruder broke in. Once everyone finds out I'm still alive, that won't be a rare occurrence, it will be all the time. It was people like him that my father warned me about. I saw the look in the gunman's eyes. It was the same look in the man who broke in—desperate, cold, and broken. If I come with you, I won't be safe, but most importantly, you won't be safe."
She turned her head; her tears dry and eyes narrowed. "But you gave up that money. It will be reported that all the money went to your grandmother. Even if people find out about you, they'll learn you're now a poor farmer. You'll be a fascinating story for about a month and then the next big thing will distract them. Trust me, I've been around enough people that made the news. It never lasts. You can go back to being a poor farmer."
Olivia pushed open the truck door, got out, and slammed it behind her. I ran after her. Once we were inside and took off our coats, she ran into the bathroom and stayed.
Eventually, I knocked on the door.
"Olivia?"
I hear sniffling and a garbled, "What?"
"Do you need me to help you pack?"
"No. I don't think I need you for anything," she said and I as I turned, I thought I heard her say, "anymore."
I got undressed and went to bed, waiting for her. Olivia said she loved me, and I never responded. That was the worst part of this night. Did she notice? I wanted to tell her I loved her, too. That she meant everything to me.
But maybe it wasn't my words she wanted, but my actions. That was where I failed. She deserved better than me. That realization ripped me in two. It was about time I stopped being selfish and let her go.
TWENTY-NINE
Olivia
"It's so nice to have my baby home. A quaint family breakfast in the kitchen like old times." My mother smiled, as much as her face would allow.
Her hair was loose, cascading down her back. She was wearing her black lounging cashmere dress complete with her comfy stilettos.
"Are those new extensions, Mom?" I said before lifting the fork of strawberries and crepes to my mouth.
"Yes. I got them the day after your father went into the hospital. Franklin called them golden sun. I don't care what color they are as long as they make me look gorgeous. I had to do something to lift my spirits. But then you returned, and I felt at ease once again." She reached over and powder-scented French perfume hit me like a wave.
"Is Dad coming out soon?" I turned to Bea who was sipping her green smoothie.
"I really don't know. I'll text his assistant Jacoby." Bea held up her finger. She got up from the marble kitchen table that was sandwiched between two French doors leading to the back garden.
I had been home for three days. Each day I went to visit my father in the hospital, but not once had I been allowed to see him. There was always someone more important visiting him. I was his daughter, wasn't I more important than a politician? Apparently not.
The man was the owner of a grocery store chain. Why would so many politicians be interested in him?
Sarah dropped off a crystal bowl of mini blueberry muffins and a dish of fresh apple butter.
For the first time in my existence I noticed the decadence of my life. The size of my parent's kitchen was bigger than Carter's entire cabin. And the black marble countertops, custom white cabinets, and two black and white crystal chandeliers that hung over both islands in the center of the kitchen, were a sharp contrast to Carter's simple wood table and kitchenette.
"Wow. This is quite a spread, Sarah. You'd think the queen was showing up," I said with a light laugh.
All noise ceased. I glanced up to find my mom's mouth agape, Bea holding the phone to her chest, staring at me, and Sarah tilting her head in confusion.
I gazed down at the large, rectangular, mahogany table at the variety of scrambled egg whites, crepes, banana oat waffles, muffins, oatmeal, fresh strawberries from the greenhouse, various condiments, and jellies. Did we always eat like this?
"It's only a small breakfast, sweetheart." My mother patted my hand and gave me that look of hers—the expression she used when she was making up her mind about you and it wasn't good. Most likely that jet lag could extend three days and that I had a bad case of it.
"Yes, small," I mumbled and quickly shoved another piece of crepe in my mouth.
My mother returned to scouring social media to see what was trending and how she could make herself relevant. Bea went back to texting. And Sarah went back to being a fabulous chef. I watched her move about the kitchen, and I had the urge to help.
I missed fixing meals with Carter in the morning. Maybe I could cook up his potato hash. I think my mom might like it.
I got up from the table and went in search of a pan. After I found one, I set it on the stove. Then I asked Sarah where she kept the potatoes. At first, she was in too much shock to speak but once I told her I learned a bit of cooking from my time in Maine, the surprise wore off.
I grabbed a potato and began to scrub it under the tap before patting it dry.
"Olivia Jane Holiday Love, what on Earth do you think you are doing?" My mother's voice rose with every syllable.
"I'm making potato hash. I learned how to do it up in Maine."
I searched for a knife and cutting board. Sarah placed them on the counter for me.
"I'd love to see what you learned," she said with a smile.
It was a much different grin than what she usually had. It was softer and felt real as opposed to the stiff one she usually gave my mom and dad.
I began chopping and took my time. My mother and sister came over to sit on the bar stools at the large marble top island in the middle of the kitchen to watch. It felt like I was the star of a cooking show. We began talking and laughing. I told Mom about Carter, making sure I didn't mention his last name. She wouldn't want to know it anyway, given he was a farmer. I loved my mom, but she was a snob.
Once I was done, almost an hour later, my mother was even asking Sarah about her life. It felt good to help bring my family out of their secluded world and back down to Earth. But it didn't last.
"Dad gets out tonight." Bea scooped up a forkful of hash while holding up her phone.
"Wonderful. I'm going to have a party to celebrate. We'll make it Friday night. Invite everyone." My mother clapped her hands after three bites of my hash. That was her limit with all food—three bites and she was done.
"But he needs to rest. Maybe a party isn't a good idea . . ."
My mother laughed. "Of course, it's a good idea. What else do you do for a person just released from the hospital? Oh, Olivia, I think that mountain air has gone to your head. Maybe a day at the spa would do you some good. We should all go, us girls."
The spa was Mom's answer for everything. While getting a massage and sitting in the steam room does sound enticing, I don't think it would cure me of the mountain air.
The only thing that would make me feel better would be Carter. But he chose to stay. I had trouble sleeping the night before I left and ended up getting up earlier than my alarm. It was obvious that my confession of love meant nothing to him as he ignored it. And a simple trip to DC to meet my family was like asking him to set his cabin on fire.
He was fine with me if I stayed holed up with him, away from society. Keeping me from the world. If that's how he wished to live his life, that's fine. He was the only one that could dictate how he lived, but I wouldn't let him control mine.
I loved it up there, but it didn't mean I never wished to see the rest of the world, especially my family. There were things I wanted to do. I had been thinking of going back to school and study to become a veterinarian. That would take me away from the cabin for a while as the school I wished to go to was in Massachusetts.
"Okay, spa it is."
"Should I invite Whitney?" Bea asked to no one but her phone.
"Ugh, if you girls wish. I don't think she's interested in that sort of thing. You know Whitney . . ."
My mother didn't care for my father's other children. She tolerated them but not much else. To her, Whitney was phony. Pretending to be sweet and kind and going out of her way to help others. The truth was that Whitney was a good person. My mother wanted an excuse to hate her, so she made one up instead.
"I just texted her and she can't go anyway. She wants to be there to help Father home from the hospital," Bea said, picking at her hash.
"That's what we should do. I think Dad would like that," I said and smiled in hope at my mother.
"Why would we do that? He has his driver and assistant. And apparently, his other daughter." My mother rolled her eyes mentioning the last part.
"Whitney, Mom. Her name is Whitney," I said.
"Fine, Whitney. He'll have a team. We'll only be in the way. Besides, I haven't had an outing with my girls in so long."
"We went to the spa together just before we left for the wedding," Bea added, finally looking up from her phone.
"Yes, that was a month and a half ago. A wedding that didn't end up happening, by the way. Your father was not happy when you disappeared, Olivia."
I avoided this conversation long enough. It was time for me to face my mom and be honest about what happened.
"Derrick was such a nice boy. Your father talks about what a hard worker he is at the company," my mom said as she pushed some hair from my eyes.
"Brown-noser is more like it," Bea mumbled but my mom's selective hearing didn't pick it up.
"And that ring he gave you. I just can't believe you left it behind."
I groaned. She was more upset about the large diamond ring he placed on my finger than actually leaving him at the altar. Figures.
"Mom, stop. He's not the great guy you think he is. He cheated on me."
That put a stop to anything my mother could come up with. She had opened her mouth to add another thing she just couldn't believe I did to her list when I dropped the cheating bomb.
"Is it with anyone we know?" Her eyes slid to the floor as her jaw tightened.
"Kiki. Our cousin."
The corner of her mouth twitched. "You mean Tabitha's niece?"
Tabitha was Whitney's mom and my father's second wife. His first wife was Kat. They had a son, my half-brother, Konrad. Their marriage lasted about two years and then Tabitha walked into my father's life.
He was married to her long enough to get her pregnant. Then my father left Tabitha for Declan and Dane's mother, Sloan. I felt bad for Tabitha. My father was pretty bad to her, leaving her pregnant and yet, Whitney was always sweet to my dad.
My father lasted another two years with Sloan until my mom said hi to him at a party one night. He's been with my mother since. I guess fourth time's a charm.
If anyone was the asshole in the family, it was my dad. He had four wives, and that still dumbfounded me. I loved him but he's not the most likable guy.
"Yes, that Kiki."
"Then she's not invited to the party. I am mentally crossing her off the list."
Surprisingly, that was a punishment. When my mother threw a party, everyone wanted to be there. If you were snubbed by her, then you were snubbed by everyone.
"Is Derrick not invited, too?" I asked with apprehension. He did work with my father, and my mother always invited the executives at his company. My father made it clear that the company was like a second family and the people there must be welcomed by our family. Since Bea and Konrad worked there, it wasn't hard for my mother to invite the people over.
"Of course not, baby. He may still work for your father, but he won't be welcome here. When he finds out what Derrick did, I'm sure he'll fire him."
"Good," Bea said, surprising us. "He's not good at his job. The only thing he's good at is sucking up to the right people."
My mother sneered. If there was one thing she couldn't stand, it was a kiss-ass. Which surprised me since she was one herself.
"Come here and give your mom a hug." I stood from the stool at the kitchen island and walked around Bea to lean into my mother's arms. "My poor baby. First, that terrible man cheats on you, and then you're stuck in the middle of nowhere with nothing. Did that mountain man at least have a maid?"
"His name is Carter, Mom, remember I told you. And no, he did not have a maid or a driver or even an assistant."
"It's like living in the wild." She gasped as she pulled me back to make sure I saw the pity in her eyes.
"It was a farm, so not the wild. And there was a bed and bath and coffee—"
"Oh yeah, they have the best coffee! The best. I'm thinking of going back up there, maybe in a few months to see if the Fire Lake Coffee company wants to sell their stuff in our stores. I'll talk to Dad about it when he feels better," Bea added.
"This place sounds so quaint. Maybe I'll go up to visit. Meet your mountain man, uh . . . I mean Carter. I'm surprised you didn't invite him down to visit. Your friends are always welcome here, Olivia."
I lowered my eyes and willed them not to leak. "Farmers have a hard time getting away. It's an important part of the season, so he couldn't leave. He said he wanted to but just couldn't," I lied.
If I told my mother the truth, she would banish Carter, too. And a part of me hoped he would show up. I knew it wasn't going to happen, but deep down, I just couldn't let go.
THIRTY
Carter
It had been three days since Olivia left and it felt like I could barely breathe. I reached out to her a few times the night before she left as she lay in bed beside me, and each time her body tensed to my touch.
Kitty barked from her bed.
"I know I screwed up, Kitty. You don't have to keep reminding me. I miss her, too."
It was like salt being rubbed into my wounded heart every time I took Kitty for a walk. She'd run up to the truck, expecting Olivia to be there. Then she'd run to the barn and when we got home, she'd run to the ladder that led to the loft. She must still smell Olivia's scent.
She left a sock behind up in the loft and now I curled up with it when I went to bed at night. It may be a dirty sock but if I washed it, Olivia's scent would disappear.
Yesterday Kitty found the sock and we fought over it like savage beasts. The only way she gave it up was when I waved some bacon in her face.
Oh, bacon . . . Olivia's favorite.
I still took the sock to bed at night but now it smelled of Olivia and Kitty.
There was a knock at the door. I told Emily she didn't have to come until noon, but I had noticed she always came early. I got up and assessed my appearance. Yup, wearing pants and a shirt, so I was good. On Monday, I had forgotten I wasn't wearing my jeans when I answered the door. Emily stood there shocked and had to point it out to me.
The weird thing was I wasn't surprised. When Olivia left, I felt numb, both inside and out.
I pulled open the door and found an older woman, most likely in her late seventies or eighties. She wore a long brown coat covered in dark flowers with a furry lining. There was something about her smile that was familiar.
"Can I help you?" I asked, hoping she wasn't a lost tourist from The Lodge.
The locals liked to play tricks on the tourists. Since the town was called Fire Lake, they would give the tourists directions to the lake. Only, there was no lake nearby and nothing called Fire Lake. They would send the tourists on a wild goose chase for a laugh. Some visitors ended up here.
"I don't know if I'm lost. I'm looking for—"
"Look, if you are in search of a lake called Fire Lake, it doesn't exist. Someone was just having a laugh at your expense. Now, if you don't mind, this is private property." I was about to shut the door when her hand reached out and stopped me.
"I know it's private property because I own it," she said with an uptick of her chin.
That chin,
those green eyes, and that smile. I knew it looked familiar.
"Rosemary Fitzwilliam?"
She nodded and gazed at me as if she never wanted to stop.
"You look just like him." Her eyes sparkled and a lone tear fell down her cheek.
Kitty barked, and I realized the woman was standing in the cold.
"Please, come in and have a seat."
I opened the door wider, and she walked past as if she'd been here a thousand times. Glancing out, I noticed a black town car with a man in a driver's uniform standing by the driver's side with a black umbrella over his head.
"Would he like to come in, too? With the snow melting and the rain, it's a muddy mess out there." I held the door open, ready to wave the guy inside.
"No. He can wait in the car. I find that if people are paid enough, they will tolerate a bit of dirt on their shoes." She sat in the chair I had abandoned just moments ago.
With the door now shut, I stood there unable to think of what to do or say. I glanced around my home and found the French press.
"Would you like some coffee?"
She was studying me. I had the feeling every movement I made or word that slipped past my lips was a test. I didn't know if I wanted to pass or fail.
"Sounds wonderful. Perfect to warm my chilled bones. I'll take it with a dash of creamer."
She lifted her hands and began to remove her brown gloves. My eyes hit the large emerald ring on her right hand. If she angled it right, it could remove an eye.
"I don't have creamer, but I do have milk."
She waved me off. "Whatever you may offer, I will be fine."
I set about making the coffee.
"It's a lot more spacious inside than it appears on the outside. I heard there was a sheep farm on the property. I'd love a tour."
I frowned and glanced back, specifically at her shoes. She was wearing heels.
"I have a spare set of boots for you to wear. It's not a place to walk through with nice shoes."
I poured the hot water into the press and set a timer. Moving back to the table, I sat facing my grandmother.
Lost and Found (books 1-3): Small-Town Romantic Comedy Page 20
