Striking Gold

Sneak Peek: Ivy and Annie's First Meeting

A slender leg emerges from the car, tipped with a blood-red stiletto. I stop dead as a willowy woman who would look much more at home in a fashion agency slides out. Her straight, raven hair catches the sun, her cream silk blouse ripples in the breeze, and her pencil skirt accentuates her small waist and shapely legs. Between her flawless skin and the no-nonsense demeanor of an established businesswoman, her age could be anywhere from mid-twenties to mid-forties.

As she removes the large sunglasses framing her angular face, it’s like the air around her crystallizes. I’m pretty sure birds stop chirping.

She folds her sunglasses, the click-clack resonating, and sweeps her dark eyes over me from head to toe.

Under her cool confidence and arched, judging brows, a ripple goes down my spine, and my stomach does something weird. I fight the urge to smooth the frizz out of my braid. The intensity in her gaze makes me feel like I’m tangled in a net, and she’s come here to examine what her trap caught.

The man slams the car door, and I jump.

She tips her sunglasses to the side, and her driver takes them with quick, fluid movements, as if he’s anticipating her every need.

“You must be Geraldine’s granddaughters,” she says smoothly, striding over on mile-long legs. She somehow doesn’t wobble as her heels crunch on the dirt. “I’m Annie Lee.”

“Ivy Wilson,” I reply, my voice a little high. I clear my throat, trying to sound composed. “This is my sister, Olivia.”

“Charmed. I live on the neighboring property.” She gestures behind us without taking her eyes off me.

Olivia and I exchange a glance. Of course this literal runway model lives in the mansion.

The eye contact with my sister brings me back to reality—away from whatever spell this woman cast on me as she stepped out of the car.

“I knew your grandma well,” Annie continues, her dark-lined eyes pinning me in place.

“Oh. It’s…nice to meet a friend of hers.” A pang of guilt hits me. Grandma and I were close—closer than I am with my parents—but she never mentioned this woman. How much of her life didn’t I know?

“My family’s bought several properties in the area since my grandfather’s time,” Annie says, “and I admit I’ve had my eye on this one for a while. When I saw your car pull up, I had to come make you an offer.”

Her scarlet lips curve into a smile—or maybe it’s more like the snarl of a wolf sizing up its prey. My skin prickles. An offer?

Olivia looks sharply at me, and I know exactly what she’s thinking. Take the money and run, sis.

“I—um—” I stammer. She wants to buy it from me? Now?

Something about this woman’s forwardness, the way she thinks she can swoop in and snap up Grandma’s land before the dirt has even settled on her grave, raises my hackles. I return a forced smile. “Thanks, but I’m not ready to—”

“Name your price,” Annie says, cutting me off with an unreadable glint in her eyes.

Olivia gives a tiny intake of breath, like she’s forcing herself not to shout at me to accept the offer.

But though Annie’s tone is friendly, her words burrow under my skin like ticks. I don’t trust how forward she’s being.

“Why do you want so much property in the area?” I ask.

One sculpted eyebrow lifts. There’s the briefest pause before she says, “Call me sentimental. I’ve watched the sunrise over these hills and seen moose and bears roam across them since I was a girl.”

Liar. As poetic as this sounds, nothing about her straight-to-business attitude or attire says sentimental.

I cross my arms as the icy breeze raises goosebumps. “Are you behind all the torn-up land we saw driving in?”

Annie’s chin drops. The brief silence gives me my answer.

The patches of dug-up earth and the felled trees come to me in a new light—scars on the pristine wilderness. The weird part was that nothing was being built, and old disturbed patches had new growth. Why would she excavate land and do nothing with it?

“People have been leveling forests and redirecting entire rivers in this region since the mid-1800s, honey,” she says, her voice a low purr. “I’m hardly the first person to break ground here.”

I roll my eyes. “So are you buying land to be sentimental or to destroy nature? Pick one.”

The smile vanishes. Her nostrils flare.

Olivia elbows me. “Ivy!” she hisses.

But I don’t buy Annie’s sweet act, and I can see it flaking away as I challenge her. Her offer is so cold and businesslike, with no regard for the delicate circumstance that led Olivia and me to be standing here. She didn’t even give her condolences.

Her driver stands as still as a statue, his gaze flicking rapidly between the two of us. It’s as if he’s waiting for an explosive to detonate. Even the forest around us is eerily quiet.

“Surely this land has no value to you,” Annie says. Her voice is sharp, quick, like I’m wasting her time—even though she’s the one intruding. “It’s a patch of dirt. Let me take it off your hands.”

Anger bubbles in my gut. “This patch of dirt is a beautiful forest and my grandma’s legacy. I’m not interested in selling it to someone who wants to dig it up.”

Annie’s smile snuffs out, and her jaw flexes as if she’s clenching her teeth.

Beside me, Olivia puts her hands on her throat as if to protect herself from whatever deadly blow might come next.

“Miss Wilson, you’ve inherited a property you know nothing about, in a region you’ve likely never even been to before today,” Annie says, and it’s like I’ve flipped a switch. Her sharp tone is entirely different from the warmth she presented when she first stepped out of her car. Her eyes narrow, growing hard.

I splutter. She’s right, but she’s out of line. “That’s not—”

“You’re going to try to build something here, realize the ground is all till, the supplies are too pricey, there’s no septic, no well, and no electricity.” She steps closer, and though we’re the same height, she seems a head taller. “Cold and wet, you’ll go home. You’ll hold onto this place for another couple of years, hoping you’ll get the funds to try again, but you never will. So, you’ll decide to sell it. Except you won’t know its value and there’s no demand in this area, so you’ll get far less than what I’m offering you today. Now, do you want to accept my offer and go live in a farmhouse in the suburbs? Or do you want to be a fool and hang onto this land, only to regret it later?”

Her words leave me breathless, trying to find an argument. I fight the urge to shrink back. She isn’t just confident—she’s commanding, a woman used to getting her way. A woman used to being right.

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