“It was you and Dad I wanted to see. Oxburg paid their outstanding invoices. They’re all up to date.”
I expect Bray to give me a high five at least, but he doesn’t. He just rolls his eyes.
“What?” I ask. “I thought you’d be happy. Those invoices have been outstanding for months.”
“Dad will get his brand-new cherry pickers,” he says.
“We can delay telling him a few days while we finish up our plans,” I suggest.
“If we let him spend the money on cherry pickers, it’s over. It’s not like we have money lying around waiting to be used up.”
Marnie heads toward us to meet the truck from Loopin. We exchange smiles as Bray and I stand by the barn, watching the truck pull in.
Bray lowers his voice so no one else can hear. “The more I think about it, the more I think it’s our only way to survive. And we might have a real shot at thriving. We could take this farm to the next level.”
More people start to head toward us, to start loading the Loopin truck.
I nod toward my office. This conversation is one to have in private.
I shut the door when we’re both inside. “You definitely don’t think the two cherry pickers need to be replaced?”
Bray scoffs. “Not at all. Dad just likes shiny new toys. You know what he’s like.”
“I don’t think I did know that about him.”
Bray shrugs and slumps into my visitor chair.
“So how much would it be to service or refurbish the cherry pickers that Dad wants to replace?”
“Less than fifteen hundred dollars.”
I almost choke. “Are you serious?” I ask. “And Dad wants to spend forty thousand dollars on new machines?”
Bray raises his eyebrows as if to say, I told you so. “This farm has always been run his way. And it’s been fine because?—”
“Margins haven’t been as tight.”
“Right. Things were easier.”
The door to my office creaks open and Dad appears in the doorway. “What are you two in here gossiping about?”
My face flushes with heat. I feel like I’ve been caught stealing apples from the Miller orchard.
Bray sighs. “Nothing, Dad.”
“So why am I the only one in this family working?” he snaps.
“We were working, Dad,” I say, feeling more than a little defensive. “Or at least talking about work.”
“Did Oxburg pay their invoices yet?” he asks.
I flush with heat. I’ve never been good at lying. As a family, we might not talk about everything but what we do say is the truth.
Bray sighs. “Yup. They paid.”
Dad’s frown softens a little and he tugs on his baseball cap. “Oh, that’s good. We can get those new cherry pickers now.”
Bray groans and gets up from his chair. He might complain, but he’s not going to say anything to Dad. If anything’s going to change around here, I’m going to have to be the one to tell Dad what we’re thinking.
