Eli nodded.
“I know.”
She looked toward him.
“Good.”
Then she asked about harvest dates, handling, and whether the fruit could be sold safely and consistently.
Eli showed her his notes.
Clara smiled.
“You keep records like an accountant.”
Sarah laughed.
“Grandpa taught him.”
The buyer nodded.
Then made a modest offer for the first suitable batch, subject to quality checks.
It wasn't enough to settle the farm's debt.
But it was real money.
Money earned from produce Eli had grown.
Sarah looked toward the offer.
For a moment, her eyes filled.
Then she glanced at her son.
He was grinning.
Clara noticed.
She smiled.
“Don't spend it before we pick up the fruit, young man.”
Eli laughed.
“I won't.”
They agreed on a date.
Then Clara looked toward the stones again.
“Would you mind if I told the local agricultural extension office about your experiment?”
Eli hesitated.
He remembered the farmers laughing.
The embarrassment.
The way everyone treated his work as a joke.
Then he looked toward Sarah.
She nodded.
“You can decide.”
Eli took a breath.
“Okay.”
Clara smiled.
“Good. They might find the results interesting.”
The next morning, a photograph of Eli's watermelon appeared on the farm stand's community page.
The caption was simple.
Local fourteen-year-old farmer produces healthy watermelon in an exceptionally dry season using careful soil management and a naturally moist garden site.
Within hours, neighbors began asking questions.
Some wanted to know about the stones.
Others wanted to visit.
A few asked whether the boy could help them save their own crops.
Then somebody shared the photograph with a local newspaper.
And the story reached Victor Dane.
He stared at the image for several seconds.
Then called his company's land-acquisition director.
“We need to move on the Mercer parcel.”
The director asked why.
Victor looked toward the photograph.
Then answered.
“Because the boy has just done the one thing we couldn't afford.”
He paused.
“He's made that land valuable to people who aren't us.”
By the end of August, the North Bed had become the most talked-about quarter acre in Ash Creek.