Chapter 2

The year I finished college, the whole country was swept up in the rush to go into business for yourself.

I didn't take the government-office path my father wanted for me, and though I made good money, he never stopped grumbling about it.

Later I founded Greenhill Corporation and took every cent of the first year's profit.

I paved a road and leveled the ground for Greenhill Village, and I put up the money to build them their greenhouses.

For a hundred miles in every direction, Greenhill Village earned a second name: the greenhouse village.

It didn't just supply vegetables to the city. Its produce even sold across the state line.

"Eugene's back! Come look at our crop, this year's growth is something else, unbelievable!"

"Come to my place first, look at mine first!"

"Would you listen to yourselves, eyes buried in a fistful of cash. The man's come all this way, at least let him get home and eat first."

The people working the fields in front of me were a new crop themselves, no longer the uncles and elders from back then.

My father planted himself there, waved one big hand, and everyone went quiet.

"Everybody, hear me out. They say the blizzard's coming within three days, but nobody knows which day."

"So starting right now, we pick. Every household sends who they can and pitches in however they can."

"We've got to get every last vegetable hauled out before that blizzard hits. No problem with that?"

"No problem!"

Spirits were high. After one cheer they scattered and ducked into the greenhouses.

I noticed a fair number of unfamiliar faces in the crowd, so I pulled my father aside and asked him.

"Dad, other years you always harvested it yourselves. How come you hired hands this year?"

He glanced at me, fished out a cigarette on his own, and I quickly gave him a light.

"Short on time, heavy on the work. Without a few extra hands, how would we ever get it done?"

I let out a small sigh and frowned.

"A week ago the weather service put out a blue alert. I called you then, and didn't you tell me everyone was already set to harvest?"

"The margin on vegetables is thin as it is. If they're paying hired hands on top of that, what money is left for them to make?"

"Now that's where you don't know."

My father looked at me with that expression of, you've still got things to learn, boy.

"Those people are all from the next village over. They're not taking any wages."

"But here's the thing. I told them if they want to put up greenhouses next year, you'll buy their produce too. That's no problem for you, right?"

"Naturally, the price would be a bit lower than for our own village. I made all that clear to them."

No problem?

That was one enormous problem.

But I had no intention of saying so to my father.

I'd built a company worth hundreds of millions. What hadn't I seen?

The sky darkened. I went home with my father for dinner and even had a few drinks with him.

"Don't come out later. Buying up the crop isn't my first time. I've got it handled."

My father nodded, reassured.

"Leaving it to you, of course I can rest easy."

Antonia walked me out. We'd gone a dozen yards before she lowered her voice.

"The truck fleet's here, but there's a new wrinkle."

"The villagers won't let us load the trucks. They say they have to wait for you. And there are some reporters on-site."

I paused, then quickened my step.

"Reporters, fine, let them come, we've never been short of those. But why won't they let the trucks be loaded?"

Antonia had no answer for that.

The two of us reached the fleet, where the high-powered floodlights were already set up.

Seeing me arrive, the fleet captain came over to air his grievances.

"Mr. Joyce, it's really not that we won't do our job. It's these villagers who won't let us load."

I clapped him on the shoulder and walked toward the villagers.

One of them, a middle-aged man, flicked his cigarette butt away, stood, and thrust out a hand toward me.

I was taken aback, but I still reached out.

The next second he was greeting me with a smile.

"Mr. Joyce, I'm Sam Finch's son, Bartholomew Finch."

"This time everyone's picked me to speak for them. I'd like to talk with you about the price."