Total pages in book: 29
Estimated words: 27300 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 137(@200wpm)___ 109(@250wpm)___ 91(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 27300 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 137(@200wpm)___ 109(@250wpm)___ 91(@300wpm)
“Well, Costco isn’t so bad,” I hum. “I think their ingredients are okay, but their problem is that they’re baking in huge quantities, and I mean huge. It’s an industrial operation, what with giant rolling racks of pastries being shoved into massive ovens where the air circulation can be iffy. Wegmans, I’m not so sure about. I think they might use pretty good ingredients, but I don’t know because I don’t buy their bakery items, or really, any of their prepared foods.”
Braden nods, his blue eyes thoughtful.
“It’s because you cook, right? You have access to the best fruit and vegetables here in Tahoe, so you prepare food at home. I like that,” he adds in a deep growl, azure gaze flashing. “I’ve always appreciated a woman who’s good at the stove.”
I giggle a little, cheeks blushing.
“I do cook a lot,” I admit in a low voice. “Cooking and baking are hobbies of mine, and it seems like a crime to buy cheap fast food when the land is so fruitful. I mean, I literally run a farm. A cannabis farm, maybe, but the soil is fertile and loamy. Plus, California is a bread basket,” I state. “We might be known for Hollywood and Silicon Valley these days, not to mention the whole Baywatch reputation, but there’s still a massive industrial agricultural machine in place.”
“Yeah, that’s true,” Braden states. “I’ve traveled a lot as part of my job and there’s definitely a lot of farming in the state. Even roadside,” he states. “There’s no need to go inland. There are productive farms just driving up and down the Pacific Coast.”
“Yes, exactly,” I nod. “And those fields were originally tilled by laborers from migrant labor camps. Have you read The Grapes of Wrath?”
The huge lumberjack smiles at me, tilting his head.
“I have, but I don’t remember it. Remind me,” he invites in a low tone. I smile because John Steinbeck is one of my favorite authors, and I could go on and on about his books at length.
“Well, The Grapes of Wrath is about the Joad family. They’re poor tenant farmers who leave the Oklahoma Dust Bowl during the Great Depression and settle in a migrant labor camp in California. The camps were every bit as bad as you might think. There’s rape, violence, and someone even gets murdered. But it’s important because the book illustrates a huge part of California history: our place in the American economy as a bread basket, which is still relevant after all these years.”
Braden nods thoughtfully, one big hand loosely gripping his glass of sweet tea.
“You know,” he begins. “I think I read that book in high school, and haven’t thought about it in over two decades. I seem to remember being more focused on the family drama, as opposed to the role of farming in the tale. But I definitely didn’t realize I’d be discussing this with my new neighbor, who hardly looks out of high school herself,” he jokes.
I blush.
“I graduated high school!” is my protest. “With honors too! I just ... well, Jim and Robbie asked me to look over the farm, and I said yes. I owe them a lot, and need to pull my share of the load.”
The lumberjack’s expression is neutral.
“Meaning, you oversee the plants while they do ops and sales.”
“Yes,” I say, blushing.
“And is this what you want?” Braden asks, his gaze direct but with no judgment in those blue eyes. “Do you enjoy it?”
I take a deep breath because the fact is that I feel safe with the lumberjack. I don’t know why because I just met this man yesterday, and yet I’m confessing things that I’ve never told anyone else.
“Being a cannabis farmer isn’t exactly what I had planned,” I admit in a small voice, looking down at the scratched surface of the small table. “I had dreams in high school. Maybe I’d go to college and get a teaching degree. I know everyone wants to work in tech, or get into crypto or AI, but my dreams were more modest. I figured I’d go to a local university and get my certificate before embarking on a career as a high school English teacher. But my family needed me, so I’ve put that on hold.”
“I see,” Braden nods again, his voice thoughtful. “And do you think you’ll get a chance to chase those dreams in the future?”
I swallow hard, suddenly guarded.
“I mean, I don’t know,” is my reply. “My dad says that maybe it’ll happen. We don’t have much money, but the community college isn’t too expensive. But it’s not even the tuition that’s the problem. It’s the fact that we don’t have someone else to oversee the farm. Even if we did have the money to hire someone, I’m not sure that anyone would take the job. You saw how I live,” I say helplessly. “I’m all alone in a cabin for most of the time. I can go days, and even weeks sometimes, without seeing another soul. Reception is iffy, so I listen to the radio for fun, in addition to baking, cooking, and tending my vegetable garden. It’s about as disconnected and non-modern as you can get. Who would want that kind of lifestyle? No one, these days. Everyone wants cybertrucks, Netflix, and TikTok. I mean, RedNote,” I correct with a rueful smile. “TikTok’s on the verge of being banned.”