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“Then you called the wrong person.”

Joel sighed. “That was what I thought. How bad?”

“Not bad yet. The timing is worse, and the wind’s climbed. I’m bringing more of the cider fruit in tomorrow.”

Joel was quiet for a second. “Do you need me to find people?”

“Not yet.”

“You sure?”

Wes looked toward the upper rows. “I’m sure I don’t need them tomorrow morning. Ask me again tomorrow afternoon.”

Joel accepted that without arguing, which was one of the reasons Wes had not minded taking the apple side of the festival off Joel’s hands. “I can do that. And before you ask, I’m not taking the cider problem back because the forecast got ugly. You told me you’d handle it, so I’m letting you handle it.”

“That sounds painful for you,” Wes said.

“It is. I’m growing as a person.”

“Try not to overdo it.”

Joel laughed. “Call me if you need anything.”

“I will.”

Wes ended the call and finished his notes. By the time the last trailer came in, most of the crew had already gone. He spoke to the two men still at the barn about starting earlier the next morning and had them move the empty bins where they would be needed first. There was no point waiting until sunrise to discover half of them were on the wrong side of the orchard. He checked the trailer tire himself. The pressure was low, but the rubber looked sound. One more thing for the morning.

His bear stirred. We should go to Bramblewood.

Wes wiped his hands on a rag. We need to speak to Alan.

That is why I said Bramblewood.

His bear made no attempt to hide his satisfaction. Wes put the tools away and crossed the boundary on foot.

The Harlands’ orchard had gone mostly quiet. A tractor stood near the sorting area, and several empty crates had been stacked beneath the overhang beside the shed.

Farther down the rows, Alan was walking back toward the farmhouse with his jacket thrown over one shoulder. He raised a hand when he saw Wes. “I was going to come and find you.”

“That saves me a trip.”

“I’m guessing this is about the weather,” Alan said.

“It is.”

They met beside the shed. Alan had dirt on one knee and looked tired, but not in the overwhelmed way he had during those first few days. There was a difference between being tired because a job was difficult and being tired because you had no idea whether you were doing it right. Alan looked like a man who knew what he had done today and what still waited tomorrow. Wes liked seeing that.

“The forecast moved again,” Wes said. “Rain’s earlier, wind’s stronger. It could still weaken before it reaches us, but I wouldn’t plan on getting the dry time back.”

Alan folded his arms and looked toward the rows. “What are you changing?”

“I’m bringing more fruit forward tomorrow. Mostly the cider block and anything else that’s already close enough that there’s no advantage in leaving it there. I wouldn’t strip your orchard because of one forecast, but I’d take another look at what you’ve got ready tonight and first thing tomorrow.”

Alan nodded slowly. “I was thinking the same after the wind picked up this afternoon. Eileen noticed it before I did.”

“She would.”

“She told me the tops of the trees sounded different.”