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My heart skipped a beat, a knot forming in my stomach. "Who?"
"Clinton Tyree," the manager said, his voice neutral as if the name meant nothing. "Came in over the weekend, left his card for you."
My hand tightened around the phone, my mind racing. Brad, sitting across from me, caught the change in my expression.
"What is it?" he asked, his eyes searching my face.
I managed to stammer out, "Clint came into the deli this weekend!”
Brad's face hardened, his grip on my hand tightening. "What does he want?"
"I don't know," I admitted, my voice barely a whisper. "The manager just said he left his card.”
Our eyes met, the news hanging in the air between us like a thick fog. The silence of the room was interrupted by my ordinary phone buzzing. It was Nanc returning my call. But at that moment, my mind was consumed by one thought—what could Clint possibly want with me?
I pushed away the fear, forcing a smile onto my lips. I had to stay strong for Brad. Taking in a deep breath, I answered Nanc's call and gasped when I heard her say—
"Clint said he has an offer you can't resist!"
Chapter Ten
Brad
Three Days Later
After an exhaustive trek from Laramie, Wyoming, the familiar vista of Casa Palacious greeted us, nestled in the heart of San Diego, California. The grandeur of the Spanish-style mansion, with its terracotta roof tiles and pristine whitewashed walls, stood as a beacon, guiding us home. Courtney and I shared a moment of comfortable silence, drinking in the sight of the palatial estate that held more than its fair share of our past.
We had toasted to good health and great fortune beneath its high wooden beams more times than we could count, reveled in the camaraderie of the Rosedale crew during countless parties, and danced barefoot on its moonlit terraces. Chase and Meagan had breathed new life into an old, rustic cabin on the property, transforming it into a home that was every bit as beautiful as the love story it housed.
Beyond the mansion, the expansive estate stretched out, blending the manicured vineyard with nature's wild, untamed beauty. Nestled within, the stables stood proud, a testament to the estate's rich history. Some of the kids were taking turns riding Cookie, Meagan's horse, under her watchful eyes. Their youthful laughter rang out clear and bright, slicing through the evening air as they waved excitedly at us upon our arrival.
Yes, Casa Palacious was more than just an estate. It was a treasure trove of memories and shared experiences, each corner echoing with our past laughter and whispered secrets. The very air seemed to hum with a welcome as we pulled up, the ground beneath our feet resonating with the warmth of homecoming.
Courtney looked over at me, her eyes bright, her face pale against the setting sun. A small smile played at the corners of her mouth, the kind that spoke of anticipation and nervous excitement. I reached over and squeezed her hand, a silent promise that we were in this together. The air was filled with anticipation, the energy almost tangible. I could feel eyes on us, people watching, waiting for something, anything, to reveal the reason for our unexpected return.
In the midst of it all, Courtney was a pillar of strength. She held her head high, her eyes sparkling with resolve. But I could feel the tension in her hand, the slight tremble that betrayed her calm exterior.
I knew what was going through her mind because it was echoing in my own. We were on the brink of revealing a secret that had been buried deep within the folds of Rosedale history, a mystery that had terrorized us for years.
As we walked into Guy's study, the murmurs died, replaced by a palpable silence. The room was full of expectation, the air thick with anticipation.
The time had come to spill the beans. My heart pounded in my chest, my throat felt dry, and I could barely hear anything over the sound of my own heartbeat. But when I glanced at Courtney, her hand still in mine, I found the courage I needed.
Guy's announcement that Courtney had returned to San Diego took everyone by surprise. After a moment of stunned silence, Amy was the first one to find her voice. She stood up, her eyes welling, looking at Courtney with admiration and concern.
There was an unspoken agreement in the room, a united front ready to back Courtney up. After all, we were not just colleagues. We were a family. And we stood by our own.
"Alright, everyone. Settle down," Guy told us, his voice echoing in the room full of attentive faces. "Courtney has returned for more than a reunion, although that is indeed a very pleasant reason. She and Brad are bringing a matter of significant importance to our attention."
Everyone looked around, their surprise evident. The room was filled with a flurry of whispered questions and confused glances bouncing from one to the other. After all, they'd all been under the impression that Courtney was merely resuming her position at Rosedale perhaps for the sake of her own safety.
Giuseppe, always the voice of reason, addressed the group. "We kept the real purpose under wraps for security reasons. This concerns an ongoing investigation that has repercussions for all of us here at Rosedale that I only heard about yesterday.”
As the murmurs subsided, Courtney started explaining the bizarre circumstances.
"Last week, a package arrived for me from Nanc," she began and described her friend's unusual encounters at City Deli. She spoke about the strange man who watched Rosedale's office from inside the deli. Courtney shared how the man had a peculiar taste for the lemon and ginger Olipop, an order she herself had placed a few times while working delivery. The oddity of it all was not lost on us.
Then, Courtney unfurled the pictures. "This man," she said, pointing at the images of the back of the man's head and his partial profile, "is Clint Tyree."
