Total pages in book: 99
Estimated words: 97053 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 485(@200wpm)___ 388(@250wpm)___ 324(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 97053 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 485(@200wpm)___ 388(@250wpm)___ 324(@300wpm)
I almost run into Bray as I exit the barn.
“Your boyfriend’s in the south fields.”
“It was you and Dad I wanted to see. Oxburg paid their outstanding invoices. They’re all up to date.”
I expect Bray to give me a high five at least, but he doesn’t. He just rolls his eyes.
“What?” I ask. “I thought you’d be happy. Those invoices have been outstanding for months.”
“Dad will get his brand-new cherry pickers,” he says.
“We can delay telling him a few days while we finish up our plans,” I suggest.
“If we let him spend the money on cherry pickers, it’s over. It’s not like we have money lying around waiting to be used up.”
Marnie heads toward us to meet the truck from Loopin. We exchange smiles as Bray and I stand by the barn, watching the truck pull in.
Bray lowers his voice so no one else can hear. “The more I think about it, the more I think it’s our only way to survive. And we might have a real shot at thriving. We could take this farm to the next level.”
More people start to head toward us, to start loading the Loopin truck.
I nod toward my office. This conversation is one to have in private.
I shut the door when we’re both inside. “You definitely don’t think the two cherry pickers need to be replaced?”
Bray scoffs. “Not at all. Dad just likes shiny new toys. You know what he’s like.”
“I don’t think I did know that about him.”
Bray shrugs and slumps into my visitor chair.
“So how much would it be to service or refurbish the cherry pickers that Dad wants to replace?”
“Less than fifteen hundred dollars.”
I almost choke. “Are you serious?” I ask. “And Dad wants to spend forty thousand dollars on new machines?”
Bray raises his eyebrows as if to say, I told you so. “This farm has always been run his way. And it’s been fine because—”
“Margins haven’t been as tight.”
“Right. Things were easier.”
The door to my office creaks open and Dad appears in the doorway. “What are you two in here gossiping about?”
My face flushes with heat. I feel like I’ve been caught stealing apples from the Miller orchard.
Bray sighs. “Nothing, Dad.”
“So why am I the only one in this family working?” he snaps.
“We were working, Dad,” I say, feeling more than a little defensive. “Or at least talking about work.”
“Did Oxburg pay their invoices yet?” he asks.
I flush with heat. I’ve never been good at lying. As a family, we might not talk about everything but what we do say is the truth.
Bray sighs. “Yup. They paid.”
Dad’s frown softens a little and he tugs on his baseball cap. “Oh, that’s good. We can get those new cherry pickers now.”
Bray groans and gets up from his chair. He might complain, but he’s not going to say anything to Dad. If anything’s going to change around here, I’m going to have to be the one to tell Dad what we’re thinking.
“Dad, did you ever think that we could use the money you have earmarked for the new cherry pickers for something else?”
Dad crosses his arms, and Bray shoots me a look that says, What the fuck are you doing?
“Like what?” Dad asks.
“Like investing in a small freezing operation. I know things look like they’re okay now, but it gets more and more difficult every year. We’re going to have to think about changing the menu of the cafeteria next year. Or shutting it down completely. And that’s in the short term. In the long term, things could get worse. We might have to fire some full-timers. Maybe even try to apply for planning permits to develop some of the land into housing.”
Dad snorts. “Over my dead body.”
The room rattles with silence. The fact is, Dad isn’t going to be around forever, and if this farm is to survive, we’re going to have to make changes.
“You can do what you like when I’m gone,” he says. “But until then, no one is selling off bits and pieces of this farm.”
“I’m not saying we want to do that,” I say, in that same voice I used at fifteen when I wanted a sleepover. “But if we keep going the way we are, there will come a time where we’re going to be forced into doing something we don’t want to do.”
“If we don’t have cherry pickers, we can’t pick the fruit.” Dad raises his eyebrows, daring me to disagree with him.
“Dad,” Bray says, his tone a warning. “You know we don’t need brand-new cherry pickers.”
“They’re more reliable,” Dad says.
“Getting a new truck every year would be more reliable, but that doesn’t mean it’s the right thing to do. We can get the cherry pickers properly serviced or refurbished and save a ton of money.”
“And buy a freezer?” he asks, as if he thinks the idea’s ridiculous.