Page 10 of Buried Roots

“Whatever. I’m so glad you’re getting away and having some time for yourself. You’re a raging workaholic.”

“Aw. There’s that flattery of yours. Hold on.” I get up and grab baby wipes out of my suitcase and my dirt-crusted heels off the floor. Then I return to the computer scrubbing them, determined to make them good as new. “On that note—I may need more time here.” I squeeze my eyes shut, not wanting to see murder etched on her face. When everything’s silent, I open one eye to see her looking at me with pride. “What’s that face?”

“I’m just so excited for you. I want you to enjoy this once-in-a-lifetime experience.”

Natanya’s got a heart of gold. She’s stood by my side during the good, the bad, and the ugly, always stepping out of the employee role to provide friendship and support.

I say, “You really are the best. So, what’s today’s report?”

Her eyes glaze over, and my stomach pretzels. When she doesn’t move, I say, “I think your screen’s frozen.” When I see her blink, I gasp. “It’s not the screen. It’s you. Speak, Natanya. Is Tesla dead?”

“No, Tesla is alive and annoying as ever.” Her shoulders drop. “It’s the Klein account.”

Oh, crap. Klein Homes is going to catapult our business out of the red. “What is it?”

Natanya swallows. “A materials delay put us behind schedule.”

Crap. There’snothingwe can do about that. “Behind meaning a few days?”

“More like a few weeks.” She avoids my gaze. “Aston Klein was huffy and told me we should broaden our list of suppliers.”

That’s fair. “Tell him you’ll take off five percent for delivering late.” I type into my computer. “Scratch that. I’ll call him.”

Natanya groans.

I put on my most soothing voice when I say, “You know I love you, but we can’t mess this one up, Nat.”

“I know. Iknow, Worrywart Willow. Someday, you’re going to have to learn to rely on others. You know the Kleins don’t like doing business over the phone or email, and I don’t want them to think you left town. Plus, you need this break. Please. Just take care of what you need to in Silver Moon.”

“Violet Moon.”

“Whatever. Let me handle things here. I got it.” She bats a hand. “Now, stop arguing with me so I can finish my workout.”

I know she’s probably right, and although I trust her—in fact, she’s the only person I trust—she needs more experience under her belt.

I swallow back the nerves exploding in my gut. If I lose this account, my business is done. “No, let’s do quick status Zoom calls with the Kleins. I won’t be in person, but they’ll see my face. I’ll also send them detailed weekly emails. Progress updates, paint selections, finishes, and lighting choices.”

“Ten-four, boss.” Natanya’s smile is sour, but she gives me her standard salute.

There’s a knock at the room door, so I say, “You rock,” before disconnecting.

I jump up and check the peephole to see Pearl, the front desk attendant, standing there. When I open the door, she smiles when she says, “This came for you.” She holds out an envelope.

“Thank you, Pearl.” I take it and flip it over to see there’s no return address. “Who left it?” I ask, not able to imagine anyone messaging me like this. Very few people know I’m here, and if it was someone local, like Roy, he would’ve just called.

Pearl shakes her head. “I don’t know, I’m sorry. I left the front desk to walk some guests to their room, and when I returned, this was sitting on my computer.”

That’s odd. Big time. “Okay, thank you.”

After closing the door, I turn the crisp envelope over in my hand to see my name typed on it. Sliding a fingernail under the flap, I tear it open with the glue freshly wet. I unfold the piece of plain white paper that only has two sentences typed on it.

Go back to New York. We don’t want you here.

5

The New Arrival

Isthisforreal?

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