Page 31

"How do you know that?"

"Cole."

I glance across the market. Cole is folding a canopy thirty feet away. He looks up at exactly the wrong moment. I point at him.

"You talk too much."

"I was standing right there!"

"Work faster."

"Yes, sir, Your Majesty."

Jack laughs. I close my eyes. This is my life.

When I open them, Jack is still smiling. Then his expression changes.

"Noah laughed today."

The joke disappears.

"I heard."

That matters. More than Madison. More than vegetables. More than any of this.

"He misses her," I say.

"We all do."

I nod. Jack puts a hand on my shoulder once, then drops it.

"Come on. We've got work."

Finally. Something I understand.

By five thirty, the farm is quiet again. Market days always leave it that way. The morning starts before sunrise with loading trucks, checking lists, making sure somebody remembered the cash box, somebody else remembered the signs, and Cole didn't accidentally load six crates of cucumbers when we needed two. Then comes the market itself. People. Questions. Money. Conversation. By the time we get back, everyone is ready to hear nothing but wind and irrigation lines.

Atlas walks beside me as I head toward the growing fields.

"Easy."

He adjusts without needing another command. The late afternoon sun stretches shadows across the rows. Tomatoes first. Then beans. Squash farther down. Herbs closer to the greenhouse. I check the irrigation gauge, make a note, then crouch beside one of the tomato plants. The soil is still holding moisture. Good. Atlas settles nearby.

I move down the row, checking leaves as I go. One plant has yellowing near the base. I pinch off a leaf and turn it over. Nothing obvious. I'll check it again tomorrow.

"So."

I straighten. Cole is standing at the end of the row with two empty harvest baskets.

"No."

He grins. "I haven't said anything."

"Keep it that way."

"Chef Madison."

I straighten a little more. His grin widens.