“For $1.8 million?”
Linda nodded.
“And Cedar Ridge?”
“Gets a new clubhouse, road improvements, and revenue participation from the resort.”
Suddenly every strange thing from the past six months made sense.
The offers.
The letters about historical access.
The maze.
The urgency.
The threats.
But Rachel was staring at something else.
A line at the bottom of the map.
“Linda.”
“What?”
“What’s Phase Two?”
Linda looked away.
My skin went cold.
“Linda.”
She spoke quietly.
“Residential expansion.”
“Whose land?”
She pointed west.
Past my farm.
Toward the old Miller ranch.
Then north.
Across the properties of eleven other families.
Altogether, almost four thousand acres.
“They’re planning a new development district.”
Rachel folded the map.
“Does Horizon Ridge know the access agreement may be fraudulent?”
“I don’t know.”
“Did Trish?”
Linda said nothing.
That was enough.
That afternoon, Rachel sent preservation notices to Cedar Ridge, Horizon Ridge, the developer’s attorneys, the event company, and every known vendor.
