Swept Away (The Swept Away Saga, Book One)

Chapter Nine

The funeral was small. Only a few people came, though they seemed to have really loved Dad. The Ray's restaurant fed us all afterward, everyone avoiding the fact that we'd dug him out of the ground just to put him back there.

"Is there anything I can do to help, Samantha?" Scott asked quietly as I sat staring at the pasta in front of me.

"I want to keep searching in the pit," I answered strongly, the thought that'd been lodged in my mind finally breaking through. "My mom wanted me to come here and spread her ashes with him. He wanted to find the treasure. I fulfilled her last wish and I want to do the same for him."

Staring at me, it was clear he hadn't thought Oak Isle would rise in the conversation at all. Floundering for words, he glanced around the room, almost as if he were expecting a camera crew to jump out and yell "surprise!" When it didn't happen, he looked back at me seriously. "Samantha, I don't think you understand what you're saying."

"Oh, I do," I responded, nodding furiously. "I inherited all of his stuff—including his secret stocks. He told me it was all coming to me when I first got here. I have everything I need to keep going. Please, Scott, I need to do this. With or without your help."

Mark, who'd been standing not too far away, nodded at me as I spoke. Good, there was at least one person who knew what to do. I didn't think it would take much to convince the twins either, since they'd been so helpful during it all. For some strange reason, I felt like I needed Scott on this, like I couldn't do it without him. Finally, he sighed, rubbing his face with his hands.

"All right. I'll do it."

****

"What's the problem?" I growled, not liking the look on the drill man's face.

"The ground isn't stable enough yet to bore through. You just had a cave in, which means you should be on high alert around here."

"I don't have time to be on high alert," I snapped, instantly regretting how harsh I was being with him. "I'm sorry, this just isn't a good day to be told I have to hold off."

"What's up, Sammy?" Mark asked, walking over to see what was going on and catching the last piece of the conversation.

"McCrery is suing us," I stated, looking up at the sky. "He's saying that because Dad's stocks were anonymous, they can't be transferred to me. They have to be put up for public sale."

"What?" His eyes about bugged out of his head, his skin flushing a dark red with rage. "That little!" Turning, he cussed under his breath, kicking the dirt repeatedly. "What are we going to do?"

"I don't know. The company and the broker both know that he owned them. They have to have his name listed somewhere as the owner. All I know is I'm not going to give up. Now, can we please get to drilling?"

In the two weeks that followed, one problem after another arose. I could feel my own superstitions growing, finding myself wondering if McCrery was going out every night and messing things up. By the morning of our court date, I'd all but driven myself insane staying in Dad's house, trying to figure out how to solve every issue that had been thrown in my lap. Scott, who'd been helping me go through everything, arrived to drive me to the courthouse.

"How are you holding up?" His voice was soft, but held an authority that instantly calmed the more aggressive of my nerves.

"I'm sorry," I answered softly. "I'm doing the best I can. I don't know how this is going to turn out."