Page 83 of Cabin Fever

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."

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