Bitter Harvest Read Free Page A

talked about this before. Working out our profit and loss statements may not be much fun, but it is necessary.”
    “I hear you!” Bree snapped. “Look, cut me some slack, will you? I’ve worked hard, and I need a little downtime. I want to spend time with Michael, ’cause he’s just as busy as I am during harvest season. You have a problem with that?”
    “No, not at all. Look, this is still all new to me, and it’s the first set of numbers I’ve run through, with nothing to go on from prior years. I’m anxious about getting all the details right, and I need to know how we came out. We’ve both worked hard this season, and I really want to believe it’s paid off. But I won’t know until I see all the numbers together, you know?”
    “Yeah, yeah,” Bree muttered. “What about that little surprise you and your mother found? You sell that, you’ve got a nice piece of change in the bank.”
    Meg sighed: she’d thought of that, too, more than once. “I don’t feel right, doing that. I’m still thinking about it. But we can’t run a business here if we depend on windfalls to drop on our heads. We need to make this work. How about you get all the pieces together for me by midmonth? And by that, I mean all the invoices and statements and whatever other pieces of paper you’ve got, in some sort of order. Deal?”
    “Whatever,” Bree said, sounding like a sulky teenager, and Meg had to remind herself that Bree at twenty-two wasn’t far past that age. “Listen, you need me for anything else? I thought I’d go over to Amherst to see Michael, maybe spend a night or two.”
    “You tell me. We don’t have to think about pruning or anything until January or February, right?”
    “You were paying attention!” Bree smiled. “Yes, you’re right. Right now, as you keep reminding me over and over, is the time to catch up on record keeping and make some assessments about how we did. We also need to review the trees we’ve got, and what you might want to put in, thinking ahead. Assuming there will be an ‘ahead’?”
    Meg smiled. “Depends on those numbers you give me. Go play with Michael, and have fun. I can keep busy here.”
    “Yes, ma’am.” Good humor restored, Bree bounced out of her chair and snagged a banana from the counter. “I’m going to leave before you change your mind.”
    Ten minutes later she came down the stairs with a bag slung over her shoulder. “Hey, before I forget—they’re talking about a big storm coming. Keep an eye on the news, will you?”
    “Is there something I need to do with the trees?” Meg asked.
    “No, they either make it or they don’t. But a bad storm can really mess things up—like power, and driving anywhere.”
    “Okay, I hear you. But I really think you’re just looking for an excuse to stay over in Amherst a bit longer.”
    Bree gave her a grin. “Maybe. Bye now!” And she slammed out the back door. Meg heard her car start up, and watched from the kitchen window as Bree pulled away. So did Dorcas and Isabel, from their now reinforced pen.
    Meg turned away from the window, feeling lost. She’d been working her tail off since she’d arrived almost a year earlier, first trying to make the house livable—sealing up the worst of the cracks, and even refinishing the kitchen floor. And then she’d been caught up in the demands of the orchard, and her parents’ unexpected visit, and by the time she caught her breath it was December. She still had numbers to crunch, but she’d just given Bree a reprieve. She refilled her coffee mug and sat down, trying to decide what she should do.
    She attempted to picture herself out shopping for some decent furniture, at least for the most visible front rooms, since what she had at the moment had been handed down—and should have been thrown out—by decades of transient tenants. But buying furniture would take money, so scratch that. The home improvement wish list included the roof, storm windows, and somewhere in