Andrea scowled at her desk. “Wait a minute!” She snapped her fingers. “We had a contract with Cliff, right? It’s like if there’s a renter with a lease when a property is sold. The lease generally carries over.” Problem solved. “So this is an opportunity. We can build a relationship with the farm’s new owner!”

“I don’t think you underst—”

“Tani, it’s fine.” It had to be fine. “Do you know who bought it? They’re probably wondering why we haven’t reached out before now. I’ll drive up there, introduce myself and get this all sorted.”

Her friend didn’t look convinced. “I couldn’t find any contracts in the festival file boxes, so I asked Iris Taggart, and she thinks Cliff was what she called one of their handshake partners. She said in the early days of the festivals, a lot of things were done that way—friend-to-friend agreements.”

Andrea’s mouth fell open. “No contract?” She blinked. How could that happen in the twenty-first century? “But we’ve already paid for the maze. It’s planted.”

“That’s the thing...”

“Tani, we watched it being planted.” She had a horrifying thought. “Oh, God, have they plowed it under or something? Tell me they haven’t plowed it under.”

“More like the or something. It hasn’t been plowed under, but Mike and Zoey drove by there this week and said it’s looking...overgrown.”

“Well, overgrown isn’t a big deal. It’s supposed to be tall so people can’t see their way out.”

“It’s also supposed to have trails for them to follow.”

“Of course. Cliff always...” He kept the pathways mowed short and neat all year. It was a point of pride for the old guy. But mowing could happen anytime. Right?

“Who bought Cliff’s farm? Was it someone local?”

Please let it be someone I know...

“Y-yes. He’s local.” Tani’s gaze went around the cubicle—anywhere but in Andrea’s direction. “It’s Zayne Rutledge.”

“Zayne?” Andrea almost laughed, which was her first clue she was on the edge of genuine panic. “You’re telling me Zayne Rutledge, the bad boy of a family of bad boys, came up with the cash to buy Cliff Thompson’s farm? Wasn’t he living in a trailer somewhere?”

“Careful, Andrea. You’re sounding like your mother.”

Well, that wouldn’t do. She had a lot to prove—one of those things was that she was not her mother. She cleared her throat.

“Sorry. It’s just... Zayne? Really?”