Chapter 4

A murmur ran through the crowd, and Old Mrs. Parsons was the first to jump out. "No way! These raspberries grow in our fields. I water them three times a day."

"I take better care of them than I do my own grandson. Why should Edmund skim off that kind of money for nothing?"

Once someone led the charge, the rest piled on behind her.

A jumble of shouting broke loose. "No! I don't agree."

"We're out there baking in the sun all day like dogs, and he swings by the field twice and wants a cut that big?"

"I don't agree either. There was never a contract signed. Who ever said he gets ten percent?"

The moment those words landed, the crowd seemed to find its opening.

One after another, they demanded I produce the contract.

Glen Lambert shot me a smug look. "Edmund, you heard them. Nobody's owning up to it."

"Even if you take this to court, it won't do you any good."

I ignored him and turned to Tyler Glass.

These people were just noise, backup for show. Tyler was the real backbone of Marsh Hollow.

"Mayor Glass, why don't you tell them. Is this really how it is?"

"One town, over nine million in farm output. That's no small feather in your cap, is it?"

"You're standing in the middle playing peacemaker. You think I don't know what you're angling for?"

At that, Tyler shot to his feet, his face dark as a storm cloud.

He snapped at me under his breath. "Edmund, what nonsense are you spouting?"

"There really is no contract for this. Yes, there was a verbal agreement back then."

"But now the town won't own it. You can't go against the will of the people. What am I supposed to do? You want me to set myself against the whole town?"

He strode over to my side and dropped his voice. "Edmund, if you ask me, take the loss. Settle for five percent. How's that?"

"That still works out to nearly five hundred thousand. That's not nothing."

"One man. How are you going to fight this many people?"

He wanted me to swallow it and keep quiet. But I'm no pushover.

"Mayor Glass, why don't you ask them how many are willing to hand over five percent? It's not that I look down on the town. All they see is money. Five percent is flesh off their own bones to them."

Tyler cleared his throat and raised his voice. "Everyone, quiet down! I'll ask on Edmund's behalf, once. If he only takes a five percent cut, are you willing?"

Every head dropped. Not one of them made a sound.

Then someone muttered, "Dream on. Why should he get five percent? He's not my son."

The voice was low, but it carried clear enough.

The whole crowd burst out laughing.

Anger surfaced on my face for the first time. These people wouldn't shed a tear until they saw the coffin.

Fine, then. No need for me to keep worrying about hometown feelings.

I pulled the copy of the pledge from my pocket and unfolded it in front of everyone.

"I never signed a profit-sharing contract with you, true. But this pledge lays it out in black and white."

"All raspberries in Marsh Hollow may not be sold privately to any third party without Edmund's permission. In the event of a breach, Edmund has the right to pursue all costs and related losses."

"Your fingerprints are on it. The town council's official seal is on it. It holds up in law. You want to weasel out? Then be ready to let the fruit rot in the fields."

"Let's see which is harder, you or the law."

The laughing crowd went dead silent in an instant, every mouth hanging open, staring in disbelief at the thing in my hand.