“You’re not counting unproven savings.”
“No.”
“Good.”
The board member asked:
“What happens if egg prices fall?”
Avery turned a page.
“Stress case.”
“What if feed rises fifteen percent?”
“Next column.”
“What if mortality doubles?”
“Third.”
Susan looked toward Martin.
He smiled faintly.
The board member stopped smiling.
Avery continued.
“If all three happen simultaneously, poultry still nearly covers itself on egg revenue and sanitation savings.”
“Nearly?”
“I lose approximately four thousand dollars annually depending on labor valuation.”
“And if normal case?”
“Positive nineteen to twenty-six thousand before potential orchard yield effects.”
Silence.
Susan asked:
“How much does that matter to a farm carrying over four hundred thousand in debt?”
“Not enough alone.”
That answer helped.
Avery could see it.
She continued:
“But it changes cash flow.”
“It reduces dependence on one annual crop.”
“It generates weekly revenue.”
“And if the pest data holds into spring, it may reduce part of our control cost.”
“May.”
“Yes.”
Susan looked through the binder.
“Who helped design this?”
“I did.”
The board member looked surprised.
Avery continued:
“With extension guidance.”
“Iowa State is sampling independently.”
Martin added:
“I verified those contacts.”
Susan looked toward Avery.
“What do you need from us?”
“Renew the operating line through next harvest.”
The board member frowned.
“That is substantial exposure.”
“I know.”
“What additional collateral?”
“None.”
He almost laughed.
“You’re asking the bank to absorb risk.”
“I’m asking the bank not to force a sale during the worst year in a thirty-year weather cycle.”
Susan raised one hand.
“Let her finish.”
Avery looked directly at them.
“If I sell now, you recover.”
“Probably.”
“Frank Wheeler buys the east block.”
“Somebody buys the home place.”
“I walk away with maybe enough to pay remaining obligations and start over somewhere else.”
“That is the clean outcome.”
The room went quiet.
“But if you renew, I have one season to prove whether this farm can operate differently than it did under my father.”
The board member said:
“That sounds sentimental.”
“No.”
Avery shook her head.
“Sentimental is keeping every acre because my father touched it.”
“I’m prepared to sell the north strip if I need liquidity.”
“I’m prepared to lease packing equipment.”
“I’m prepared to cut varieties that are not profitable.”
“I’m not asking you to save my father’s farm.”
She placed both hands on the binder.
“I’m asking you to finance mine.”
Susan Pratt stared at her for several seconds.
Avery did not look away.
The committee renewed the line.
Six months.
Not twelve.
With monthly reporting.
Higher interest margin.
Avery hated the terms.
She signed.
That evening she drove to the orchard.
Snow lay beneath the trees.
Chickens scratched through straw near the mobile shelter.
Earl stood beside the tractor.
“Well?”
“Six months.”
He grinned.
“You win.”
“No.”
Avery shook her head.
“I get to keep playing.”
Earl nodded.
“That is farming.”
January was brutally cold.
Two water systems froze.
Egg production fell below two hundred a day.
Avery’s hands cracked despite gloves.
One morning the tractor would not start at minus eight.
She kicked the tire.
Then apologized to the tractor.
Earl saw.
“Losing it?”