He helped her examine the condition of the damaged wood and determine which components were suitable for reuse. Together, they planned a sturdier replacement frame that would support the shelling mechanism properly without relying on the swollen, cracked boards.
Hazel wanted to finish immediately.
Wy refused to rush.
"You're not building a shelf," he reminded her. "If a moving part catches or throws something loose, somebody could get hurt."
She nodded.
He continued.
"So we make sure it's solid before we test it."
She agreed.
They worked carefully.
The first replacement frame didn't fit correctly.
The second required changes.
And the third finally held the components in the alignment Hazel wanted.
She was disappointed by how long the process took.
Wy wasn't.
"Anybody can make a machine turn once," he told her. "What matters is whether it works safely and keeps working after you've gone home."
Hazel wrote that in her notebook.
Then underlined it.
By the end of the second week, the small sheller was mechanically sound enough for careful testing with proper safeguards in place.
It looked different from the rusted machine she'd purchased.
The wooden frame was cleaner and stronger.
The crank moved smoothly.
And the repaired mechanism sat firmly on a sturdy table.
But the sheller still hadn't processed any peas.
Hazel stood beside it on a warm afternoon, holding a handful of purple-hull pods.
Wy watched.
Pearl stood near the doorway.
For a moment, nobody spoke.
Then Hazel looked toward her grandmother.
"Ready?"
Pearl smiled.
"Are you?"
Hazel laughed nervously.
"Guess we're about to find out."
She began operating the hand-crank sheller.
The mechanism turned.
The first pod entered.
A few peas dropped into the collection tray.
Then the machine jammed.
Hazel stopped immediately.
For several seconds, she stared.
Wy cleared his throat.
"Well."
Pearl looked toward the tray.
Three peas rested inside.
Hazel closed her eyes.
Then began laughing.
Wy laughed too.
Pearl picked up one of the peas.
Held it between her fingers.
Then smiled.
"That's three more than it shelled yesterday."
Hazel shook her head.
"Grandma."
Pearl laughed.
"What? I'm counting."
Hazel looked toward the mechanism.
The disappointment was real.
She'd spent nearly two weeks getting the machine into working condition, and it had failed on the first attempt.
But then she remembered something.
It hadn't failed because the frame twisted.
It hadn't failed because the crank seized.
The repaired mechanism had moved.
The problem was how the pods passed through it.