Page 8 of Just Friends
“Listen, Momma,” I interrupted. “I heard what happened to the crops. Paulina showed me the damage.”
“Yes …” Momma said, casting her gaze off into the distance. “It is a shame, isn’t it.”
“Oncewas a shame,” I said. “Two years in a row is something else—this is getting ridiculous.”
“I know, I know,” she said, shaking her head. “But it’s taken care of, honey, so don’t worry. This is why we pay for insurance.”
I rolled my eyes. Insurance might coversomeof the damage done, but nowhere near the full losses. Besides, insurance couldn’t cover the loss of asecondyear of Eaglestorm Farms’ produce not being seen in grocery stores or restaurants or at the Farmer’s Market. That was inestimable damage to our family farm’s “brand,” if you will, and its true value couldn’t possibly be calculated or replaced.
“We can’t let this happen year after year, though,” I said. “We need todosomething.”
“Like what?”
“We could sue the Bowers, for one.”
“Sue?” She recoiled, aghast at the idea of involving the courts. “That sounds extreme, doesn’t it? Besides, we don’t have the money for something like that.”
“I’ll pay the legal fees myself.”
“Sweetie, the Bowers aren’t even the ones responsible,” she said. “The Bowers rent the land to a farmer. That farmer contracts an independent company who does the spraying—that’swho’s responsible. You know that. The Bowers aren’t to blame; they’re twice removed.”
“But the Bowers own the land, which means they’re responsible for whatever happens on it,” I said. “If getting sued is the kick in the butt the Bowers need to rent to a different farmer or tell them to use a different sprayer, then so be it.”
“The Bowers are our friends, Piper,” Momma said. “We wouldn’t be here without them.”
“But they don’t evenlivethere anymore. The house is empty!”
“Either way, it goes against what we believe in. I’m sorry, Piper, but we won’t sue them.”
I grumbled. “So what are you going to do for money?”
“Look.” She turned the camera around and showed me the cucumber and tomato plants, flush with fruit. “We’ve still got the greenhouse. We’ve got all the greens in the front garden. And we’ve got the honeybees, too.”
“Okay, that’s—” I paused to do the quick math in my head, “—still not evencloseto breaking even.”
“Trust me, sweetheart, we’ve gotten by on less.” Momma laughed, her eyes narrowing wisely. “Long before we had you, we’ve seenmuchworse years, believe me.”
“But you guys wereyoungthen …”
“And we’re still young at heart!”
I held my breath, working up the nerve to ask a question I feared the answer to.
“What if I moved back home to help?” I blurted out at last.
She laughed. “Help with what? With the crops wiped out, there’slessto do around here.”
“I dunno,” I mumbled. “Things around the house.” A devilish smirk began to spread across my lips. “Or I could help put together that lawsuit, maybe.”
“I told you, we don’t want to go that route.” Momma shook her head. “Besides, we both know it’s not time for you return to the country yet.”
“Huh.” I rubbed my chin. “You weresoupset when I left for the city. And now you don’t want me back? I thought for sure you would.”
“Oh, Piper.” Her shoulders shook with silent laughter. “Of course I’d love to have you back. And yes, I hated to let you go—but the day comes when every parent has to let their kids spread their wings and go. Besides, I always knew you’d leave as soon as you could—you were such a rebel at heart …” She smiled fondly, perhaps recalling all the heartaches and trouble I’d caused her and Daddy growing up. “But it’s obvious that life in the city has been great for you. You did the impossible and succeeded in New York City, you found a whole new set of challenges in Denver, and now you’re taking on Dallas. I brag toeveryoneabout my jet-set, self-made daughter!”
Paulina, somewhere nearby, shouted, “She really does brag about you to literally everyone.”
My palm met my forehead and I let out an embarrassed groan.
