Then, on September 19, Rafe Slone appeared at the farmhouse with Clay Duvall and Ned Collier.
And everything changed.
Rafe wasn't smiling when Hazel opened the farmhouse door.
He stood on the porch holding his baseball cap in both hands, with Clay and Ned behind him. The evening was warm, but all three men looked uncomfortable. Dust covered their boots, and Clay had the exhausted expression of someone who'd spent the entire day wrestling with a problem he couldn't solve.
Hazel looked from one face to another.
"Is something wrong?"
Rafe swallowed.
"We need to ask you about the peas."
Hazel stepped aside and invited them into the kitchen. Pearl was sitting near the window, reviewing her harvest notebook, while Wy worked outside beside the packing shed. A pot of beans simmered on the stove, and the ceiling fan moved warm air around the room.
Rafe remained near the doorway.
He explained that several neighboring growers were having difficulty processing the last part of their harvest. Some peas had already been lost, and others would soon be too old to handle efficiently. The men wanted to know whether Hazel could take a larger quantity than she'd previously agreed to process.
Hazel listened carefully.
Then she shook her head.
"Not all at once."
Ned looked disappointed.
"Even with the big machine?"
She nodded.
"We have more capacity than we did in June, but the shelling is only part of the work. Everything needs sorting and proper handling afterward."
Clay glanced toward Pearl.
"We thought maybe you'd found a way to put more of it up."
Pearl closed her notebook.
For several seconds, she studied the men.
Then asked, "How much of the harvest are you planning to keep for your own families?"
Rafe shrugged.
"Whatever we can fit in the freezers."
Pearl nodded.
"And the rest?"
He looked toward the window.
"Probably sell what we can. Lose what we can't."
The older woman was quiet for a moment.
Then she stood.
"Hazel, would you show them what we've been doing?"
Hazel looked toward her grandmother. She knew Pearl was asking something important, because the winter-sharing records had always been kept private. She didn't want to reveal anybody's personal circumstances without permission, and she wasn't certain what her grandmother intended the men to see.
Pearl seemed to understand her hesitation.
"Just the storage plan," she said gently. "Not anyone's private business."
Hazel nodded.
She led the men into the narrow room behind the kitchen.